This was more than she’d dared hope. Her fingers boldly trailed over his buttocks. She loved the feel of him beneath her fingertips. She knew she was ready to accept him, knew only he could ease the incessant, internal pressure.
She wiggled her hips in frustration, seeking release from the accumulation of sensation. She felt she’d burst if he didn’t do something.
“Easy, chérie.” He reached between them, touching her core.
She moaned. “Ewan, please.” Opening her eyes, she tugged at his shoulders.
“Aye, love, ye are ready.”
Ewan shifted her, pulling her hips beneath his.
She stared at him. At last.
He took her lips in a tender kiss. “I’m sorry, mon amour, there’s no help for it, I’m a large man.” In one swift, powerful movement, he surged forward, penetrating her.
Yvette choked on a cry of pain. For the love of God, why had no one told her of the pain? Was there supposed to be pain?
“Shh, chérie. The pain will ease.”
It seems there was.
Ewan lay still atop her, his elbows bearing most of his weight, except where his hips were locked with hers. Bit-by-bit he moved, pushing deeper into her, before withdrawing part way.
She bit her lip. Lud, what is he doing now?
He moved again.
The stinging discomfort ebbed, replaced by another fluttery feeling. Stretched to the ends of her endurance, she tilted her hips seeking succor. Sharp little darts of pleasure pricked her where he remained fully sheathed.
His strong body joined with hers was beyond anything she had ever imagined. She was awash in sensation. Losing all sense of time, of awareness, their physical union was secondary to the fusing of their souls. All that remained was the two of them in an age-old, glorious communion.
She spiraled, faster and faster, striving toward what she knew not, until she reached the pinnacles and crashed over the top. At her peak, before reality shattered and she plummeted into nothing but pulsating sensation, she cried, “Ewan.”
Her sobs of ecstasy were absorbed in his open mouth. A moment later, she felt him stiffen in her arms. His low growl of fulfillment followed.
Yvette lay in the aftermath of their lovemaking, incapable of moving. Ewan had collapsed atop her, his head buried in her shoulders as potent tremors wracked his body. She had not understood how extraordinary, how powerful their union would be. He had brought her to heaven and back. She lay under him, stunned. Sweet Lord, how wondrous physical joining was.
She almost cried out when he withdrew. He rolled onto his side, carrying her with him. Her head rested on his solid shoulder while his hands strummed a soothing rhythm across her curves.
His embrace tightened. “I love you.”
Smiling, Yvette tilted her head to look into his eyes. Raising her hand, she traced his scar. “I . . . I never imagined it would be like that.”
Why didn’t she tell him she loved him? Why was she still holding back? Fear? Pride?
A shadow darkened his eyes, before his sculpted mouth tilted into a grin and something else entirely glittered in their depths. “Lady McTavish, you need to expand your imagination.”
Sometime later, after he sat her atop him and taught her a new way of cresting the wave, Ewan rose from her bed. Faith, but he had a gorgeous body. He was pure male confidence, not the least embarrassed to stand nude before her.
His gaze swept her and he grinned. “Wait there, amour.”
He disappeared into the bathing chamber, returning moments later with a wet cloth and soft towel. Sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, he stared at her thighs. Her gaze followed his, noting the streaks branding her as his. He moved to wipe the smears from her legs. She closed them, as much against her own self-consciousness, as his probing gaze.
“Petite amie, let me wash you.” He bent and kissed her, effectively diffusing her resistance.
A single knock rattled the door.
Ewan said, “One moment.”
He wrapped his tartan around his nakedness before snatching the bedding from the end of the bed. Yvette grasped the coverlet and yanked it to her chest. She smiled when he tugged the bed curtains closed on the door side. He was protecting her again.
She could not see who was at the door or hear what was said.
He returned to the bed with a large tray laden with food and drink. “I took the liberty of ordering us supper,” he smiled his naughty schoolboy smile and twitched his eyebrows, “in bed.”
“You were sure of your success, my lord? I wasn’t wearing the brooch.” Yvette’s teasing tone belied any real disapproval.
“Aye, lass, I was sure. No wife does what ye did while I was gone unless she cares for her husband.” The smile on his handsome face skewed wickedly. “I’m most grateful you weren’t wearing the brooch. I prefer what you were wearing.” His gaze traveled across her bare shoulders and lingered on the valley between her breasts.
“Ewan.” Yvette pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. The coverlet slipped down exposing her nipples. She reached for it, but stopped when Ewan leaned across her. His hand closed over one breast, and his mouth capturing hers in a searing kiss. The cover fell to her waist.
Yvette and Ewan nibbled on the light supper. Ewan snuck in kisses between bites. Halfway through their meal, a hunger of another sort began to build in Yvette. She licked her lips, when Ewan’s eyes darkened with sensual promise. He set the tray aside. Her pulse quickened in anticipation.
He pounced on her, rolling her, giggling onto her back. Her laughter died in her throat at the look in his eyes.
“Yvette, I love you. Mere words can ne’er express how much.”
“No? So, show me, my lord.”
Pulling his head lower, Yvette kissed him, pouring her adoration into the single, focused act. Long moments later she convulsed with pleasure. What she had done to deserve this happiness?
As the last shudder rippled through her body, she felt his climax. Arching her hips, she savored the sensation of his release pouring into her intimate depths. She gasped, her loins coiling tighter with each of his hot spurts, hurtling her over the edge once more.
Yvette lay awake after Ewan had fallen asleep, his rhythmic breathing blowing softly on her neck.
Unease taunted her. Today, as she and Seonaid tended the herbs by the wetlands, she’d felt someone staring at her. Her skin had prickled in the same disturbing manner it had, on the dock, at the inn, and at the jeweler’s.
Seonaid had paused in her digging. Dirty spade raised, her eyes had taken on the far-off expression Yvette was now accustomed to. Her brow creased with a frown, Seonaid had climbed to her feet, then murmured two words.
“Danger lurks.”
Chapter 29
The gallery clock chimed noon as Yvette and Ewan left their chamber. It had been dawn before she drifted into an exhausted sleep, a smile of contentment on her face, a prayer of gratitude on her lips.
She’d lost track of the number of times Ewan loved her yesterday afternoon and last night, lost track of the many ways he loved her. She responded eagerly, and she reached degrees of satisfaction she had not dreamed possible.
She flushed in rememberance, fingering the shimmery ruffled overskirt of her scarlet gown. An intricate lace fichu added a degree of modesty to the gown’s low bodice. The Luckenbooth brooch held the fichu in place, its fiery rubies reflecting the dress’s brilliant red. Nessia had dressed her hair in a simple Grecian knot, securing a crimson ribbon across the crown.
Yvette bit her lip in nervous embarrassment at the bottom of the stairs. Tugging at Ewan’s arm, she slowed her pace. “Ewan, does everyone know why we missed supper and stayed abed this late?”
“I do hope so.” He skewed his lips into a mischievous grin. “Only imagine how jealous
they are.”
Yvette gaped at him, scandalized. “Surely you’re not serious?”
“Don’t worry, mon amour, they’ll pretend they don’t.”
Oh, Lord, that’s so much better.
“Come along, wife. I’m hungry.” With a reassuring peck on her forehead, he strode into the Great Hall with her on his arm.
Relieved to find only Giselle, Adaira and Isobel present, Yvette breathed out the breath she held, and relaxed her tense shoulders. Thank goodness. Seated at a smaller, less formal side table, they were enjoying a simple meal.
“Ewan, Yvette, do join us,” Giselle bade, signaling a maid for the necessary place settings.
After pushing in Yvette’s chair, Ewan trailed his fingers across the nape of her neck. She stifled a moan and resisted the urge to arch her neck into his warm hand.
She glanced across the table. Giselle’s eyes twinkled, and she was smiling, her gaze shifting between Yvette and her son. She knows.
Of course she does. She’s been married twice and has five children. Somehow that eased Yvette’s embarrassment.
Ewan asked, “Where are the others?”
Passing Yvette a bowl of strawberries, Giselle laughed. “All working in the village, except Seonaid and Lilias. Seonaid is doctoring a dog that injured its shoulder yesterday. Poor Lilias is napping. Bethia fussed most of the night.”
Yvette was ravenous, having eaten little the day before and nothing today. She helped herself to a generous portion, and began eating with gusto.
Ewan’s grinning countenance gave her pause. Bending, he whispered in her ear, “Built-up an appetite did ye, chérie?”
She felt her face coloring, the heat rising inch by inch to her brow. She retorted, “I find invigorating physical exercise always increases my hunger.”
She suppressed a smile at Ewan’s discomfort when he at last became aware of his sisters’ eyes traveling between him and her, puzzlement in their naive depths. She did grin when Giselle’s amused, knowing smile had him flushing and pulling at his neckcloth.
Taking a bite of her chicken pie, Yvette’s gaze fell on Adaira. She’d not said a word other than hello since she and Ewan had arrived. Adaira was not her usual vivacious self. She picked at the pie on her plate.
Yvette eyed her. “Addy, is everything well with you?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, everything’s fine.” Her gaze flicked to Yvette’s before darting away. “I’m simply trying to behave with a bit more decorum. I need to be an example for my sisters. I know I’ve been a hellion, uncouth and all that. I’ve not demonstrated the behavior one would expect of a lady of quality.”
Yvette’s brow creased. Adaira sounded like she repeated an often heard lecture.
Isobel snorted, the first unladylike behavior Yvette ever observed in her. “And a zebra can change its stripes to spots.”
Adaira lifted a shoulder and continued to pick at her food. Her lack of reaction alarmed Yvette even more. Evidently the same was true of Isobel who probed her sister with a searching look.
“I think I shall take my luncheon with me, if you don’t mind, Mother,” Adaira said as she began gathering bits of food. “I’ve an idea for the woolen mill I’d like to ask father about.”
Giselle waved her away. “Go, dear, but do be careful. With the construction in town, there are an unusual number of wagons and carts on the roads, not to mention strangers hereabout.”
“I shall, Mother.”
No one said a word about the large amount of food Adaira piled on her napkin, though Ewan quirked a brow in askance. Excusing herself, she left the room munching on a hard crust of bread. A frown marring her smooth brow, Isobel’s serious gaze never left her sister until she disappeared from sight.
Ewan scooted from the table a short time later. “Evvy, Hugh promised me a thorough tour and detailed accounting of your projects. You wife,” he tapped her on the nose with his forefinger, “have been most industrious in my absence.” He helped her to her feet. “Would you care to accompany me? I’d be grateful for your input.”
Yvette wasn’t sure she would be able to sit a horse. That region was most tender. She smiled. Not that she was complaining mind you. “Would you mind terribly if I cried off? I need to respond to a letter from my solicitor, and Rory wrote two weeks ago asking to visit.”
She turned to Giselle. “Would it be an inconvenience to have the earl underfoot for a few days? I’ve not seen him in three years.” And it was past time to tell him Edgar had poisoned their parents.
“Cher, you needn’t ask me. You’re the lady of the keep, though I appreciate the consideration you’ve given me. By all means, write the Earl of Clarendon, and ask him to pay us an extended visit.”
“Thank you.” Yvette bent and hugged Giselle, before moving to take her husband’s arm.
“There is one thing I’d ask of you, Yvette.”
Smiling, Yvette turned halfway around. “Yes?”
“It would please me no end if you’d call me La Mére, or if you prefer, Mother.”
Yvette blinked against the tears surging to her eyes. She embraced Giselle again. “I’d like that too, La Mére.”
Ewan bestowed a kiss on his mother’s cheek. “Thank you, Mother.” He reached for Yvette’s hand. “See me to the door, will you, bien amour?”
Holding his hand, Yvette strolled to the castle’s entry. Iona was attempting to dust the vast area, though from the myriad of particles floating about pell-mell, her success was dubious at best. She bobbed an unsteady curtsy to Ewan, then Yvette.
“How’s your kitten?” Yvette asked her.
Face splitting into an adorable grin, the child exclaimed excitedly, “She already catched a moussy in the storeroom, me lady. Sorcha be pleased.”
“Wonderful, dear. Perhaps you and Peadar can show his lordship your kittens after supper tonight.”
“Aye. I will go tell Peadar.” The moppet skipped from the foyer.
“Kittens?”
“Oh, Ewan, the poor dears have nothing of their own. Iona wanted a kitten. Isobel knew of a litter in the hamlet, and I took two. One for Iona and one for her brother. I hoped they’d be mousers in the kitchen. And Ewan, they sleep in a storeroom. I’d like to move them to a chamber.”
She paused, biting her lower lip, Yvette raised reluctant eyes to his. “Have I overstep . . .”
She was cut off when he wrapped her in his arms and hugged her to his chest, lifting her feet off the floor. “You amaze me, wife.”
“You’re not angry?”
“Because you care for others? Nae, anger’s not what I’m feeling.” Ewan looked pointedly at his pantaloons where a revealing bulge was most evident.
She giggled, peering around the grand entrance. “Ewan!”
“Now give your husband a proper kiss good-bye, wife.”
Yvette was happy to oblige. Ewan left her with a kiss which made her weak in the knees and eager for the day to be over. Nessia descended the stairs as she turned from shutting the door.
“Nessia, I’d like to wear the pink and white muslin tonight. Can you see that it is aired and pressed if need be?”
“Ye mean the one with the double row of lace and pink and blue roses?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Aye, I will see to it.” Nessia dipped a curtsy and continued on her way.
Humming, Yvette headed for the library, a grin on her face. Ewan’s homecoming was everything she’d hoped it would be and more. Settling herself at her tidy desk, she penned an invitation to Rory. She had no sooner set the seal, and addressed Mr. Dehring’s letter, when Aubry barged into the room.
Panting, she gasped, “Seonaid’s hurt. Come quickly. She’s asking for you.”
Dear God, no.
Dropping her quill, Yvett
e jumped from her chair. Dizziness engulfed her for a moment, no doubt from standing suddenly. Yanking her spectacles from her face, she dropped them on the desk, and dashed to the door. “What happened? How seriously injured is she?”
“I don’t know,” Aubry said shaking her head. “Aunt Giselle didn’t say. She and Isobel ran to the lower levels where the tunnels are because ‘tis the quickest way to reach Seonaid.”
“Who brought word?” Yvette asked.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Aubry looked puzzled. “One of gardeners perhaps? I’m only fetching you like Aunt Giselle asked me to.”
Hurrying through the seldom used hallway at the rear of the Keep, Yvette worried. Did Seonaid need a stretcher? A doctor? Good Lord, she didn’t even know if there was a doctor nearby. “Shouldn’t we notify the others? Gregor will be needed.”
“Help has already been sent for,” Aubry said, forging ahead of Yvette. “Aunt Giselle said you were in the library and to take you to Seonaid at once.”
Yvette lifted her skirts to keep up with Aubry. “Where is she?”
“She was tending her herbs.” Aubry peered over her shoulder. “Hurry, there’s a tunnel below which exits almost where she lies.”
A heavy wooden door stood cracked, no doubt from Giselle and Isobel’s hasty passage. “Here.” Aubry handed Yvette a lantern. Making quick work of lighting it, she took it, and stood at the threshold. Urgency in her voice, Aubry coaxed, “Come along then, quickly.”
Yvette stepped onto the landing, peering below at the steep steps wending their way into the bowels of the castle. “You’re sure ‘tis the quickest way?”
“Aye, otherwise we have to exit the gatehouse and go through the bailey,” She made a sweeping arc with her free hand. “The wetlands are on the other side of the Keep. We would have to go halfway around the castle again. This route’s much faster.”
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