Shyness washed over her as he removed her gown, but then he drew her into his arms and whispered that he loved her, and she felt safe and confident again.
They kissed, first gently, then deeper and harder. He stroked her bare breasts, taunting them into ripe peaks. As he took her nipple between his lips she cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand.
He glanced up at her, smiling. She laughed at herself. "I promised I would be quiet," she whispered.
He stretched out over her. She moaned with delight and pulled him closer. Her entire body pulsed, ached for the pressure of his body pressed atop hers.
She fumbled with his kilt.
"Ye want me to take it off?" he whispered.
She knew her cheeks colored, but she felt assured enough in his embrace to speak up. "Aye, I want... I want to see all of ye."
"Sassy wench," he teased.
Her eyes grew round and she backed away a little as his hand found the closure of his kilt.
He grinned. "And a sassy wench is just what I like."
His smile was contagious. It had never occurred to her that there could be smiles and laughter between the sheets. The thought delighted her.
Ian shed his kilt and his man's rod sprang up, hot and hard against her bare leg. Again they kissed, and as their kiss deepened she moved closer to him, molding her groin to his. She liked the feel of his hardness against her. She wanted more....
Ian rubbed her bare thigh; first the top, then the inner flesh, and with each stroke the heat in her middle grew hotter. Of their own accord, her legs parted.
She was breathless with anticipation before he ever touched the curls of red hair between her thighs. And as he finally did, she stiffened, her muscles flexing, then relaxing. Glorious. His touch was glorious. How could anything that felt this good inside and out be sinful?
Kara felt dampness between her thighs. She felt her body moving to the rhythm of his, as if it had a life of its own.
She rolled onto her back. "Please," she whispered, panting.
He stretched over her, his hair coming loose from its leather tie to fall to his shoulders, to tease her chin. "I love ye, sweet Kara. Always. Forever."
"Always. Forever." She panted.
"Now what is it ye want?" He ran his fingers through the cascade of red hair that fell on his pillow. "Tell me, lass."
"You." She closed her eyes, moving her hips against his. "I want you."
"And I you," he whispered.
As their mouths met in a lover's dance, he pressed his hips to hers and she felt his stiff rod probe between her thighs. She opened up to him. If she did not have him soon she would burst.
With the aid of his hand, he slipped into her. She arched her back, cried out.
"Are ye all right?" Ian whispered, his face immediately lined with concern.
She lifted her heavy eyelids and smiled. "Ye did not hurt me."
He smiled and kissed her gently. "To be the first to love a woman is a great gift. I thank ye for this gift."
She let her eyes drift shut. Of their own accord her hips lifted, fell, and lifted again.
She felt consumed by him, possessed. And yet the way that her flesh captured his gave her possession as well. He moved slowly inside her.
Kara grew light-headed as their movements became more urgent.
"We have plenty of time," he whispered teasingly in her ear.
She rolled her head back and forth. No. She had waited her whole life for this. For Ian. She would not be delayed now. She was too anxious, too desperate for... for what?
Ian's breath came heavier in her ear. Faster. He pressed his palms to the bed on each side of her and lowered and raised his massive body, taking care not to put his full weight on her.
She felt like a vessel washing closer and closer to a rocky shore, rising and falling with each swell of the sea.
Suddenly she felt a burst of pleasure that ran so deep, it touched her soul. Light flashed behind her eyelids; every fiber of her being felt the surge of pleasure. She was shocked... amazed. It took her breath away.
Ian halted for an instant, then with a groan stroked again. Once, twice and then he, too, cried out. He called her name and then came to rest atop her.
Kara struggled to catch her breath, her eyes still squeezed shut as little aftershocks of pleasure rippled over her. He rolled off her and onto his side. When she opened her eyes he was watching her.
She raised her head to reach out and brush his lips with her fingertips, smiling. She thought she'd be smiling the rest of her born days. "I liked that," she whispered timidly.
He threw back his head and laughed long and hard, and she fell back onto the pillow, laughing with him.
PART II
The trees they grow high, And the leaves they do grow green. Many is the time my true love I've seen. Many an hour I've watched him all alone. He's young but he's daily growing.
At the age of thirteen he was a married man. At the age of fourteen, the father of a son. At the age of fifteen, his grave it was green, And death had put an end to his growing.
Chapter 14
Kara felt Ian stroke her hair and plant a kiss on her temple. He whispered her name softly, in a way no one had ever spoken her name before. She knew he was trying to wake her, but she kept her eyes closed and snuggled against him. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to lie in this limbo between sleep and waking and drift in his warmth, his love.
"Ye must rise, hinny," he murmured. "Dawn will come and ye cannot be here when the castle awakes."
Still she didn't open her eyes. She was too comfortable, too content. Ian held her in his arms, she on her side, he on his back, both naked beneath the woolen blanket. The fire on the hearth had died in the middle of the night and she could feel the chill in the air.
"Kara."
She smiled. "What if I don't want to go? What if I want to stay here with you forever?"
He kissed her forehead. "Would that I were a magician and could make it possible."
Her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed into his dark brown eyes. "Did you sleep?"
"A little. But I didn't want to. I wanted to lie awake and hold you."
She sighed with contentment as she ran her hand over his bare chest. She liked the feel of his muscular frame under her palm; she liked the tickle of his crisp, dark hair that was so different from her own. "Ye should have wakened me and we could have done something else."
He chuckled. "Who would have thought my sweet Kara would be so brazen?"
She lifted her lashes. "Not brazen. Honest. We have no time for anything but honesty between us, Ian."
"Truer words could not be spoken." He patted her bare bottom, his hand cupping one cheek. "Now, come, rise and dress and I'll escort you upstairs."
With a moan of resolve she sat up in his bed. "Nae. It's safer if I go alone." She frowned. "What time is it?" It was still dark in the room, with only the glow of light from embers on the hearth. After she had fallen asleep Ian must have risen and extinguished the candles.
"Near four, I think." He slid out of bed.
She sat on her knees, the tartan blanket drawn around her. She watched as he strode across the room to stoke the fire and add another log.
Ian's naked body was a magnificent sculpture, massive and muscular. She could see the outline of muscles and sinew down his legs, his arms, across the wide expanse of his chest and back. They flexed and rippled when he walked.
She watched as he lit several tallow candles. Her gaze drifted below his navel, and heat suffused her cheeks. His manly part fascinated her. Just thinking about it sent ripples of pleasure through her. She had heard women in kitchens and around the sewing table remark what an ugly abomination the thing was, but she disagreed. Not ugly, only different from her anatomy, and certainly intriguing in its own way.
Ian wrapped his kilt around his middle and reached for last night's discarded shirt, which lay crumpled on the floor. Half-dressed, he retrieved her gown and slippers and
brought them to her. "Come, hinny, if you do not dress I will not be able to stop myself from making you mine again."
She accepted her gown and dropped it over her head. "And this would be bad, why?"
He chuckled. "Out of my bed, wench, and to your own."
She climbed out and faced him, the gown falling down her back until the hem brushed her calves. "All right, I'll go," she conceded. "But I will be back."
He kissed her full on the mouth. "Promise?" he whispered.
"Promise." She kissed him again and reached for her slippers on the edge of the bed.
He watched her. "Ye know, Kara, we will have to be very careful, you and I."
"I know."
"To cuckold a man in his own household is dangerous."
She turned to him, running her fingers through her unbound waist-length hair, attempting to put it in some order, knowing it was impossible. "I understand the seriousness of the sin I have committed."
"Nae, nae, not a sin," he hushed, taking her into his arms again. "The sin was in marrying you off to a boy who could never be a husband to you."
She studied his worried frown. She wanted to believe what he said. She wanted to feel absolved, but right now she didn't. She traced the worry lines across his forehead with her fingertip.
"Ye know, I would have married ye, had ye been free," he said.
She smiled sadly. She would not think of would-haves or could-haves right now. It would only make her realize how unfair her lot in life was.
"The first time I laid eyes upon ye in that great hall, I knew I would never love anyone but ye."
She looked at him doubtfully. "Ye mean to tell me you were a virgin as well?" she teased.
"I mean to say I have never loved anyone but you and will never love another. Remember that when you must sit at my little brother's right hand."
The mention of Harry sobered her. "I don't know how I will do it." She broke from his embrace and went to the fireplace to lace the ribbon of her gown.
"You will do it as you do every task: with grace, confidence, determination."
She stared at the flames in the hearth. "I just don't want to hurt him. I am very fond of him."
"I know." He came up behind her and snaked his arms around her waist. She leaned against him and closed her eyes.
"I would not hurt him either," he said. "Unfortunately, he is not old enough to understand affairs of the heart."
"As if any of us do." She breathed deeply, her eyes still closed. She wished she didn't have to go, but she knew she must.
Ian rested his cheek against her head. "Last night I said I would not share you. That was unfair. Harry is your husband. Should you become with child—"
"We will cross over that stile when we come to it," she interrupted. She turned in his arms. She didn't want to talk about this, not now. Maybe not ever. She didn't want to think about it. To become pregnant would surely be a calamity. "Now kiss me and I'll be on my way." She turned up the corner of her mouth. "I'll be on my way before I toss you onto that bed and have my way with you."
He kissed her again, this time as a husband kisses a wife. Then he lowered her cloak to her shoulders and let her out his door.
Kara returned to her chamber and her empty bed.
* * *
"Kara, are you awake?"
She rolled over in her bed and opened her eyes. It was barely daylight. "I am now," she answered sleepily.
Harry perched on the edge of her feather tick. He was already dressed in his new kilt and wearing a bonnet adorned with the Gordon cockade. Isla had had it stitched for him as a birthday gift. "Today is my birthday," he announced, as if she didn't realize the fact. As if she had not been preparing for today for the last month.
She blinked the sleep from her eyes and shifted to sit up a little higher against her pillows. "Good wishes."
He slid closer to her, his hand behind his back. "And... and I know it's my birthday, so people will be giving me gifts," he said hesitantly, "but I wanted to give you something."
"A gift for me?" He had taken her completely by surprise.
"I have one for Mother, too." He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "You know, because she gave birth to me." He offered the small object from behind his back. "It's nothing big or costly, but I made it myself."
Kara stared at the small bundle he placed in her hand. It was wrapped in a brocade fabric scrap and tied with a pretty green ribbon. She didn't know what to say.
Guilt washed over her. In the last fortnight she had gone to Ian's private chamber five times. She had wanted to go more often, but had not dared. She had gone to make love to him, to betray Harry, who now sat beside her and offered a gift.
"Open it," he urged with a shy smile.
She tugged on the ribbon and the cloth fell open. Inside was a small wooden box. Inside the box was a wooden cross. It was half the length of her index finger, made of rosewood and polished with some type of wax.
Across the intersecting pieces of wood, Harry had carved the leaves of a vine. It was simple, yet utterly beautiful.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed, fingering the delicate charm. It smelled faintly of freshly carved wood. "It's beautiful."
He beamed. "You like it?"
She hoped he did not see the single tear that gathered in the corner of her eye. These last weeks she had felt so torn. So happy and yet so dreadfully unhappy. "I love it."
"I thought you could put it on this." He picked up the ribbon he had tied the gift with. "Green to match the gown Isla said you were wearing today."
She studied him in wonder. "You asked Isla what I was wearing today?"
He slid off her bed, obviously pleased with himself. "Aye, well, I know how important it is to you ladies to have everything, you know, match."
She stared at the cross in her palm. It truly was beautiful, and what was even more beautiful was that it was obviously a gift from Harry's heart.
What a cold, ruthless woman she must be to cuckold the husband who would carve a cross for his wife with his own hands.
She slid out of bed, dressed in only a thin gown. "I will wear it today proudly," she told him. "And treasure it always." She leaned to kiss Harry, who had grown taller since they had wed.
He took her by surprise by turning his head at the very instant she was to press her lips to his cheek. Her mouth met his. She drew back, startled. He looked into her eyes, making no attempt to step back.
He had done it on purpose; she knew he had.
Kara lowered her gaze and turned away. Instinctively she raised her fingertips to her mouth. She did not want Harry's mouth touching hers. She wanted to share no such intimacy with anyone but Ian. She didn't care if Harry was her husband or not.
"Well, um, I guess I'll go down to the hall to break the fast with my men," he said awkwardly. "Guests will be arriving soon."
"Aye, yes," she stammered. "I suppose you should go. If you don't mind, I'll just have a little bite here and finish my preparations for the day. I still have to speak to the cook, and the man with the monkeys is nowhere to be found."
"Very well, then." Harry halted in the open door to his chamber and rested his hand in the doorway the way she had seen Ian do so many times. Harry had most definitely grown taller in the last two months. He still didn't look like a man, but he didn't look like a boy anymore either. "I'll be going. I... I'm glad you like your gift."
She didn't look at him. She heard him pause in the doorway, and then he was gone.
Kara let out an exasperated sigh of relief.
"Looks to me like you might be in trouble," Isla said from her doorway.
She must have seen Kara and Harry's exchange, or at least heard part of it.
Kara groaned and held up the cross. She had not told Isla that she and Ian were lovers, but she knew Isla knew. She didn't know how; maybe she had woken and realized Kara was gone one night and figured out where she was. Maybe it was just women's intuition. "He gave me a gift. This cross." Kara held it up. "He...
he kissed me."
Isla smirked.
"It's not funny!"
Isla came into the chamber, her belly entering before the rest of her. "I know it's not. But the boy is only spreading his wings, becoming a man like we all want him to."
Kara left the cross on the end of her bed and walked to her window. Her own room was smaller than the one she had shared with Harry, but she liked it. It was cozy, the furniture simple, the bed linens and draperies less impressive. It reminded her of Ian's room. "First a kiss, next he'll be wanting to... to..."
"Exercise his husband's rights?" Isla offered. She walked to the fireplace and picked up a poker to stir the embers.
"And then what will I do?"
"What will ye do, or what should ye do?"
Kara turned to face the serving woman who had become her friend. "What should I do?"
"Ye're asking me?" She gestured with the iron poker.
"Aye." Kara crossed her arms over her chest. The thought that she might become pregnant weighed heavy on her mind.
"Ye should seduce the boy. Give him his rights, regularly, once a month, whether he needs it or not. Then go about yer business."
Kara knew her business meant Ian. She could tell by the look on the girl's face. Kara groaned and turned away. "I don't know if I can do that. Harry... he... he's still just a boy."
"Ye asked me what would be the smartest thing to do. What's smart ain't always what we do, mistress. Had I been smart, I'd have laid out my stepfather with a poker the first time he slipped under my sheets." She swung the iron rod to demonstrate. "I wouldn't be lookin' like the cow that I am now, if I had."
Kara studied the girl with sympathy. "Has life always been this difficult for women?"
"Always." Isla set down the poker. "Since Eve ate that apple. We got to fight for every lick of fairness and every bit of happiness we can get." She started back toward her small chamber. "I'll dress and get your gown directly. 'Twill be a long day. I already sent for a food tray." She waggled her finger. "Now ye be sure you eat. Won't nobody have time today to be carryin' you up these stairs if ye fall out from hunger."
Highland Bride Page 14
