The meal, what little she ate, was delicious. By the light sheen of perspiration on Declan’s upper lip, he’d reached his limit and the pain had returned.
Seeming to notice at the same time, his father leaned toward Declan and whispered something into his ear. Declan nodded, stood and was escorted out of the room by his brother and Ian, one of the guardsmen.
Although it was only a few moments later, time seemed to stretch until, finally, her and Declan’s mother came forward to escort Cairstine to the wedding bed.
Her mother whispered encouragements and both women smiled broadly when helping her atop the bedding. They instructed her to relax and keep her eyes on the ceiling.
Cairstine had already decided to keep her gaze on Declan the entire time. If he looked about to pass out, she’d be prepared to roll away before he flattened her.
Bang. Bang.
Her heart pounded and she gulped past the sudden dryness in her throat when men opened the door and shuffled in. The first man entering was the laird, followed by her father. Then the clergyman and another man, who she recalled was a member of the Murray council, stepped into the room.
The mothers moved away and stood along the wall beside their husbands as Declan entered and approached the bed.
His gaze moved over her thin chemise, hesitating at her breasts. They were clearly visible through the thin fabric.
Cairstine shifted uncomfortably, keeping her eyes locked on his face. He took her by the hips and pulled her to the edge of the bed then spread her legs.
Swallowing past the thickness that constricted her ability to breathe, Cairstine attempted to relax. It was impossible. Not only was she exposed to Declan, but surely the others in the room as well.
When Declan lifted his tartan and took his sex in hand, she couldn’t help but squeeze her eyes shut.
This was definitely the most humiliating day of her life. Why was the bedding a part of the ceremony? Certainly, it was men’s ideology and not women’s.
The prodding between her legs brought her back to the moment and she gasped when Declan thrust his thick manhood inside her. He was too large. Surely she’d tear in half and bleed to death. How was it possible that some found pleasure in such a thing?
Her breathing hitched as he entered her just a bit more.
Declan’s body trembled and her eyes popped wide open. If he passed out atop her, it would be even more embarrassing.
“Relax,” he mouthed.
How in the world did he expect her to relax at a moment like this? She was spread wide before witnesses. He was attempting to pierce her with a thick, blunt object. Then there was the distinct possibility he’d pass out atop her.
When he dove in fully, a pain tore through her and she let out a loud cry. Cairstine struggled to push away, but he held her in place, holding her arms down until she ceased.
He pulled out, the action almost as uncomfortable and wiped his sex on the sheet next to her.
“Proof of consummation and virginity.” The clergyman stated the obvious. Cairstine couldn’t help but narrow her eyes at the idiot.
The people shuffled out. No one met her gaze as Cairstine remained still, not moving, her legs still spread.
Declan tore his tartan off and settled once again between her legs.
“We must finish this.”
They were finished, weren’t they? Cairstine studied him, unsure of what to say. “What are we finishing?” she finally asked.
Chapter Seven
“I’m sorry lass,” he looked down at her. “I will be gentle. But it’s best we fully join so that ye are aware of what transpires between a man and a woman when there are no witnesses.”
Cairstine felt stupid lying on the bed without moving, but she wasn’t at all sure what was expected.
Declan removed his plaid, letting it fall to the floor. He then lifted his tunic enough to expose the tight binding about his midsection. He leaned over and put both hands on either side of her shoulders.
At a slight curve of his lips Cairstine narrowed her eyes. “This is not funny. ‘Tis quite awkward.”
Without speaking, his mouth took hers. He lowered over her, his body covering hers. Surprisingly, his weight was not uncomfortable in the least.
He tasted of honey mead and whisky. The warmth of his lips over hers was so pleasant that she did not wish him to stop. Cairstine held on to his shoulders and when his tongue teased at the seam of her mouth, she parted her lips.
As the kiss continued, his right hand slipped down her side and cupped her bottom while pressing his hardness into her core.
He felt perfect, hard, masculine and all male. Although the thought of joining with him gave her pause, tingles of something akin to pleasure traveled through her.
When he lowered the neckline of the chemise and took the tip of her breast into his mouth, she gasped. Not only did his suckling at the tip make her moan, but it also stoked the heat that pooled between her legs until she lifted her hips.
“I can’t be as thorough as I would like, but I will make ye feel good,” he spoke while moving lower.
Unsure what he was doing, Cairstine watched him descend. “What are ye doing?”
Declan lifted her legs and pushed them apart. He then took the hem of his tunic and wiped her.
The blood. He was cleaning her. Cairstine wondered if that was part of what was required.
The coarseness of the fabric being rubbed against her core brought a jolt and she gasped at the tingles down her legs.
She released a loud “Aw!” when his mouth covered her sex and then she floated.
Every movement of his tongue sent Cairstine flying higher and higher. He laved at her sex until she shook. Every single nerve in her body was strung so tight, she feared fainting. Her legs went straight as heightened sensations traveled down her limbs. At once, she climbed and yet fell, the wondrous floating competing with the strumming of her heart.
Finally, she cried out as stars exploded behind her eyelids. Declan entered her, this time sliding in with ease as her body welcomed the much needed feel of him.
He moved continuously, in and out, his large body over hers and yet not crushing. She took him by the hips and held him in place as she lost the battle to think coherently.
The wonderful sensations grew stronger, every sense was heightened by the awareness of what fully joining as one truly meant.
Her eyelids fluttered as once again she lost all control. Cairstine called out his name. At the same time, Declan shuddered, plunging deep into her with a hoarse cry.
He lay motionless next to her. His face was pale and in a grimace.
“I’ll get ye something.” Pulling his tartan around her, she went to a small table where someone had thoughtfully left a decanter of wine and a platter with food.
After pouring a generous amount of wine with herbs to help with pain, she went to Declan. “Drink this. Ye look about to pass out.”
He’d pushed his still injured body too far. Although Cairstine enjoyed very much what had transpired between them, now she worried about the consequences.
“I’m fine. Ye should sleep,” he said while following her movements. “I just need to sleep a bit.”
“Drink,” she said putting the cup to his lips. “All of it.”
He did and fell back onto the pillow, his face much too flushed.
When she placed the wet, cool cloth on his forehead, he closed his eyes and sighed. It was nice to be free to study him so close. Declan was her dream come true and now that she was married to him, he’d always be a part of her life. As much as she wanted to revel in the fact, a part of her knew it was not going to be exactly as she had daydreamed for years.
Being forced into marriage, Declan would no doubt find ways to rebel against it. When he took a lover, she wasn’t sure in how many ways it would tear her apart. Many a man, whether in an arranged marriage or by choice, often took lovers. It was an accepted practice that most wives found revolting and insulting. And yet. I
t was a man’s world and, for the most part, they ruled.
“Thank ye.” Declan yawned. “I don't expect ye to nurse me. I can call someone.”
She wondered whom he’d call and was close to asking. However, it was late and it could wait until the next day.
“If ye need a healer I can fetch someone.” She studied him for a long moment, noting his color was returning.
“Nay. I need to sleep.”
Once she disposed of the cloth and cup, Cairstine looked down at her husband. “Do ye wish to remove the tunic?”
“I think it would be best if I left it on.” He let out a long sigh. “It’s quite painful to raise my arms.”
She pulled a thick bed covering over Declan. Then she rounded the bed and slid in on the opposite side. Ensuring to keep enough distance that they did not touch, Cairstine lay back and stared into the dark.
“Declan?”
“Are ye in pain?”
“A bit, but it cannot be helped.”
“I’m sorry ye had to marry me.”
“Don’t be.”
There was a long silence. Just when she thought he had fallen asleep, he reached for her hand and held it across his chest.
“Sleep well, Wife.”
A soft curve on her lips, she let out a soft sigh. “Ye as well, Husband.”
Rapping at the door woke Cairstine and she looked to see Declan continued in a deep slumber. He’d had a restless night and she’d gotten up several times to tend to him.
Rather than wait for the knocks to wake him, she dashed to the door and cracked it open. An older woman from the kitchen stood there with a younger maid behind her. “Lady Cairstine, I am Peige and she is Fia. Beg yer pardon. I came to tend to his wound. Need to ensure it didn’t tear open.”
“Please call me Cairstine.” She moved back when Peige stepped forward.
The pair rushed in. The younger one entered with a pot of hot water. She immediately placed it on a hook in the hearth.
The older woman shuffled to the bed and placed her hand over Declan’s brow. “Wake, dear one.”
By the way she cooed and spoke in caring tones, it was obvious the woman had cared for the family for many years.
“Open yer eyes.” She tapped the side of his face with her palm and, still, Declan did not wake.
Alarm filled her. How could she have slept next to him and not noticed he’d lost consciousness. Cairstine rushed to the bedside. “What is happening?”
“He’ll be fine. I just need to wake him up. A slight fever...” the woman mumbled while jostling Declan.
A grimace marred his handsome face. But, at the moment, it was the best expression she’d seen. Her heart hammered and she clutched the tartan she’d thrown about her while waiting.
Finally, his eyes opened and he blinked in an attempt to see clearly. “Peige.” His raspy voice remained groggy. “Did ye bring me sweet cakes?”
“Nay. Ye cannot eat just yet. I need to tend to yer wounds first.” The woman turned to the maid who remained by the hearth. “Come and help me remove this tunic.” She glanced at Cairstine. “Why is he half-dressed?”
“He didn’t want to remove the tunic. It hurts him to lift his arms.”
“Someone should’ve called me.”
The young maid climbed on the bed. While Peige pulled him up to sit, the maid took hold of Declan’s shoulders ensuring he remained upright. He only grimaced a bit.
Lifting one arm and then the other, Peige removed the tunic smoothly, not seeming to hurt Declan in the least. She followed by unwrapping the bloody binding.
“Ye may want to look away.”
“Nay, I wish to know how to care for him.” Cairstine moved closer, feeling silly at being completely nude and wrapped in a tartan.
The wound was ghastly and she almost gagged when the woman poked at the reddened flesh.
Declan groaned. “Must ye be so rough?”
“I’ve seen ye walk about with a broken bone without a care. ‘Tis nothing like that now. Ye’re weakened by remaining abed so long.”
With a wet cloth, the blood was wiped away and his midsection was once again bound. Peige studied Declan. “Ye should go outside. ‘Tis cold, but the sun is out today. It will do ye some good.”
“Aye, I agree.” Declan seemed to notice Cairstine for the first time. His gaze moved over the tartan she clutched and his lips curved.
Instantly, her face heated and she tore her eyes from his to look to the older woman. “Should I do something later today?”
The woman shrugged. “If ye can keep him from ye, he needs a few more days before...”
“Thank ye, Peige,” Declan interrupted the woman who huffed and shook her head.
“Yer belongings have been moved to the chamber next to this one,” Peige informed Cairstine. “Would ye like a bath?”
Her cheeks flamed at the woman knowing that she’d need to bathe. Hopefully, the constant reminders of her wedding night would end soon. Of course, there was still the midday meal where people would gather.
“Aye, thank ye. That would be lovely.” Cairstine looked to Declan who studied her with half-closed eyes.
When the women left, she was at a loss as to what to say to her husband. Sorcha looked about the room for something to wear. Her chemise was somewhere in the bed and her gown was much too cumbersome to don at the moment.
“I’ll take yer tartan and return it once I get dressed.” She decided on the best course of action.
A frown marred his forehead. “Can ye fetch me a clean tunic and that plaid there?” He pointed to a trunk against the wall.
“I do not think it is a good idea for ye to get up just yet.”
It was nearly impossible to hold the tartan about her while pulling out clothes but, somehow, she managed. Throughout the process, Declan remained quiet, his gaze following her to and fro. She found the necessary items and returned to him. “Rest a bit. Once I dress, I will help ye.”
Cairstine hoped to sound normal, feeling unsettled at the thought of dressing him.
“I can manage,” he replied, already sliding from the bed. He stood before her, fully nude except for the binding.
Cairstine looked everywhere except at him. From a chair to the window and then to the bed. “Are ye stable?” Not that she could be much help as she needed her hands to hold the tartan.
“Aye, I’m fine. There’s no need to coddle me.”
This spoken from the man who’d just been cooed at by Peige.
At least he seemed stable enough as he walked to the water basin. He took a cloth, dipped it in the water and washed his face. After he scrubbed his face, he reached between his legs with the cloth.
Her gaze hesitated on his bottom. She admired how the broadness of his back tapered to a slender waist, a strong arse and thick, muscular thighs.
When she looked back up, he’d turned to look at her. “I like that ye admire my body.
“Aye, well, just ensuring ye are steady. I will go see about dressing and such.” With that, she dashed from the room, unable to keep from taking one last look over her shoulder before exiting the chamber.
Perhaps the sound just as the door closed behind her was a chuckle. She couldn’t be sure.
Chapter Eight
Peige was right. Being outdoors did make Declan feel better. Even the cold stone wall, which he placed a hand on, made him take a deeper breath. Up until a few days earlier, he’d wondered if death awaited him.
Although the boar had gored him on the left side, and obviously missed any vital innards, it had still been a horrible recovery.
Even now, there was discomfort.
“’Tis nice to see ye about,” Arabella said as she neared. Her red hair shone bright in the sunlight. He had to admit the woman was attractive, but she did not compare to his wife.
“Aye, I feel better.”
She wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. “Ye should go where ye can sit and rest. It’s smelly out here by the moat.” It was an obvious
attempt to get him further from the keep entrance to the garden. The woman had been very forward in her flirtations since arriving. Now that he was married, it seemed strange that she continued. However, it was flattering and a part of him enjoyed the game.
“’Tis too shady there, don’t ye think?” He lifted a brow and gave her a pointed look.
“Not at all.” Arabella touched his forearm. “It would be a good spot to...talk without being seen.”
He’d not follow through, of course. However, the rogue in him considered indeed going to the shaded portion of the garden. At considering it, his mind immediately went to the vows he’d pronounced just the night before.
“Ye know I made a vow to be true to my wife.” He leaned closer to her ear. “No matter how enticing the offers I may receive are.”
Arabella laughed, but the mirth did not reach her eyes. She cupped his jaw. “’Tis a shame then.”
The feel of her touch was like cold water and he moved back. “Do not press, lass.”
She pouted and smiled widely. “I won’t. My purpose has been served.” With those cryptic words, she strolled away, hips swaying a bit more than usual.
Cairstine stood at the doorway, her hand over her mouth as she stumbled backward.
“Come here, Wife.” Declan kept his voice even and stern. If there were to be any misunderstandings between them, it would not be because of the actions of a scorned woman.
Unlike the other lass, Cairstine’s movements were stiff. By the firm line of her lips, the lass was not pleased one bit.
“I came to see if ye were well enough, but I see ye are.” Her stilted words made him want to take her in his arms and assure her that he’d not been interested in Arabella in the least.
“Thank ye. I am.” Unsure how to explain, he studied her face for a moment. Nothing about Cairstine was harsh. From the pert nose to the pouty lips, she was softness and femininity. Her large, green eyes were framed with thick lashes. And when she smiled, dimples formed in both cheeks.
He wished to kiss the small mole above her lip, his gaze lingered just there.
“Did ye wish something? Ye called me out here.”
Declan cleared his throat. “I am nay interested in Arabella. She flirts, but that is all. I vowed to be faithful to ye and I will be, always.”
Declan's Bride: A Highland Romp Page 5
