She sobbed and tried pulling back but Callum wouldn’t allow it. Gently but firmly he held her in place. “Just kisses, my lady, only kisses.”
Dragging her nipple into his mouth, he tugged, he suckled, he pleased. Blessed wetness trickled between her legs. The tingling throttled to full-scale throbbing. He ran his hands, so warm, so strong, so knowing, along her legs from ankle to thigh, carrying the hem of her shift upwards to her waist. Cool air brushed her inner thighs, raising gooseflesh.
Fear shot through her. She was about to break her vow, jeopardize their love, wreak havoc upon their future… With weak arms, she managed to shove against his chest. “My lord, you break your word to me. Only kisses, just kisses, you promised.”
He slipped his hand between her legs and found her with his finger. “There are many kinds of kisses, twelve at least, and each night I mean to show you a different one.”
He was too strong for her, too wickedly persuasive, too skilled in the loving arts. She sagged against him, her hands sliding into the silk of his hair, her thighs trembling with the force of her need.
Gently he worked the furled flesh, spreading her between his big blunt fingers, coaxing her to new levels of desperate, aching desire. Holding her open, he stepped back and stared hungrily at her most private spot.
“Just kisses, only kisses, I swear it to you. Let these be the first of twelve nights of wicked wedding gifts we shall share.”
He knelt on one knee before her, his head level with her splayed thighs. Disappearing between them, he found her with his mouth. Alys moaned. Never before had a man “kissed” her there, not even Alex. Callum must have done this before, though, for he was very, very good. He swirled his tongue in a most wondrous way, unlocking some secret, private part. Time, which had seemed so monumentally important earlier, spiraled to a standstill. It was finally Christmas, their wedding day, and they seemed to have all the time in the world.
Pleasure poured over her, wave upon wave, carrying her higher toward some as yet unknown crest. Thighs aquiver, she anchored her hands to the shelf of Callum’s beautiful shoulders and lifted herself to his plundering mouth.
He brushed his rough cheek along the insides of her thighs and looked up at her with shining eyes. “Your inner lips are a darker, duskier pink than your mouth and your nectar even more juicy sweet. Tomorrow night, I will kiss you thus again only when I do you will straddle my face and ride my mouth and take your pleasure again and again until you can take no more.”
Never before had a man said such deliciously wicked things to her, let alone done them. But as wicked as Callum was, he was even more generous. He wanted to please her, he was determined to please her, and she was coming to see that his own pleasure depended upon hers.
Alys sighed. Whatever suffering she’d endured, it had brought her to this amazing man, and she regretted it not. She was a most fortunate woman, and she meant to stay so.
“Mind your promise, my lord, only kisses—and such wondrous lovely kisses they are, I would have more of them.”
She slid her hand to the back of his head, drawing him closer, drawing him down. He reached her, his mouth spanning her, his tongue sliding along the seam between her nether lips.
Alys gasped. “Sweet, my lord!”
She could feel herself running into his mouth like a river and feel him just as greedily lapping her up. He licked at her labia as though it were a summertime fruit of which he couldn’t possibly get enough and then found the core of her with what must be the very tip of his tongue. Alys gasped again. A raw sob ripped forth from her throat. So much kindness, so much pleasure and all of it focused on her. Never before had she felt so enormously special, so completely and unconditionally loved. How could she possibly bear it?
“Easy, my love.” Callum ran his beard-roughened cheek along her leg, his gaze catching at hers. “I will give you all the kisses you desire and more. Only lean back, my dearling, and give me leave to show you just what a good husband I mean to be.”
She did as he bid, letting the cleansing pleasure wash over her, through her. For now she refused to think of old wives and their warnings, refused to believe that sharing love such as this could be anything other than true and right.
The culmination struck with the fury of a storm at sea. Had she been standing, the force of it would have knocked her to her knees. Like a thunderbolt ripping through a placid summer sky, there was no warning, no time to prepare. Suddenly it was upon her, she was in it, and there was no recourse but to ride out its rage. Pleasure crashed over her, through her. It eddied. It pooled. It rose in cresting waves and dipped in dizzying spirals. Cast adrift upon a tumult-tossed loch, captured in a tiny boat she’d no hope of steering, she could do no more than hold on and pray for calmer waters to once more prevail.
“Merry Christmas, wife.”
Alys opened her eyes. She looked down into her soon-to-be bridegroom’s stark gaze and dazzling smile. His forehead was damp from the exertion of loving her, his lips shiny and ever so slightly swollen. Like fitting together a tavern puzzle, she pieced together the sights and sensations to form the full picture of where she was and exactly what she’d just allowed. Her shift rode her waist. Her bare legs were open. Her pubis was exposed, her womanhood pulsing with the ghost of an unholy heat. Liquid warmth leaked along one inner thigh. The scent and heat of her satisfaction rose between them like a spiral of steam. Nor was she alone affected. The swollen ridge tenting the front of Callum’s kilt told her he was heavily aroused, swollen to bursting with unsatisfied need, and yet he made no move to press for more. Only kisses, he’d sworn to her, and even those he’d selflessly given, taking nothing for himself. Whatever fears she’d held on to that he might be marrying her for less than love, she released now. He wanted her, he lusted for her, but beyond that, he loved her, loved her true. Emotion overcame her. Tears touched her lashes, her cheeks, and then slid down to her jaw. She was weeping on Christmas Day, her wedding day, and she couldn’t seem to find the will to stop.
Gently, very gently, Callum pulled down her shift. “Sweetheart, I meant to make you smile, not cry.”
“I know. And I am smiling, albeit on the inside.” She shook her head, dashing away the wetness. “’Tis only I’d nay notion…kissing could be so wondrous.”
In her innocence, she’d thought Alex a tender and generous lover, but she understood she’d never before been on the receiving end of a man’s selfless generosity, his unbridled tenderness. Not only had she never before reached the pinnacle of pleasure, but ere tonight, she’d no notion that such a summit even existed. She wished she might be as clever with words as she was with her sewing needle so that she might give voice to the feelings flooding her heart. But eloquence was the gift of her friend, Brianna. Alys was but a simple maid.
And so she settled on the only two words that came to mind, simple words and yet she hoped her gaze and touch would suffice to send them soaring. “Thank you.” She ran her hands over his chest, the coarse matting of dark hair showing through the saffron linen, and laid fervent kisses along his muscle-corded neck.
He exhaled heavily and stood. Even though they’d broken contact, she could still feel the tension bunching his muscles. It was costing him a great deal to keep his word and walk away, and yet she’d no doubt that walk away he would. Not because loving her had made him a good man or a better man or indeed had changed him in any appreciable way, but because he loved her, he truly loved her. For Alys, that wasn’t simply good enough. It was everything.
“That was but a taste of forbidden fruit. Tomorrow night, once our vows are said and our guests well met, I mean to devour the dish entire.”
The passion she’d just experienced had stripped her bare, rubbed her raw. There was no more room for dissembling. From here on, she could give him nothing but the absolute truth, no matter how ugly and disastrous that truth might prove.
“There is something more you should know about me.” The admission sapped what little courage she had manag
ed to muster.
She tried ducking away, but Callum would have none of it. He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her face to look up at him. “What is it, love? What troubles weigh so heavy upon these slight shoulders? Tell me, Alys, so that I can make whatever it is disappear.”
Even now, the force of his love humbled her. These seven months he had sworn to be a better man for her, but it was she who must strive to be better for him. “You have already been so good to us, Alasdair and me. You have given us so much, too much, I think.”
“To give you too much would be impossible.” His deep blue gaze locked upon hers and he shook his head. Mayhap it was a trick of the flickering light but his eyes looked damp. “For you, lady, I would slay dragons.”
Shamed by his steadfastness, she dropped her gaze, cursing herself for her cowardice all these many months. “When Alasdair was born, there were…difficulties. I am…small and he was big even as a newborn. The midwife warned I might not be able to conceive another child.” The secret, her last, had weighed heavy upon her since she’d accepted his suit but never more so than this moment.
His falling face confirmed he hadn’t expected that. “I see.”
Alys hugged herself hard. Why, oh why, was she destined to disappoint the men who loved her? First her father and then Alex and now Callum—and Callum’s disappointment was the hardest to bear of all because she loved him the most. Her heart, which only minutes ago had soared like an eagle, fell to the floor like a bird on the receiving end of a hunter’s arrow.
She reached out and laid a hand on his forearm, steely strong like the rest of him. “I would have told you ere now, only I couldna bear to think of losing you. But it isna too late. Let us be handfast wed instead. If after a year and a day, I havena conceived, you can cast me off and wed a lady worthy of you.”
Callum’s eyes widened. If he’d seemed shocked a moment ago, he appeared doubly so now. “Cast you off! I’d sooner sever my arm than lose you.”
Alys sighed. He was so very dear to her, so very good and true for all his former roguish ways. “You say that now, my lord, but you may feel differently in time. I have a child already. I have Alasdair. If need be, he will be enough. He is enough. But you, my dearest lord, have no child. You canna ken the great joy you’d be forsaking if we’re no blessed with children.”
His expression softened. His gaze melted. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, his glancing touch gentle beyond words, even simple ones. “I willna lie to you, sweetheart. If we do not have bairns, I will be disappointed, saddened even. But if I do not have you, I will be lost.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes, tears of relief and gratitude. Not many men would be willing to take a possibly barren wife to their bosom. “You are resolved, then?”
He nodded fiercely. “Come what may, I dinna desire to marry you for a year and a day but for the rest of our earthly lives.”
“Oh, Callum, you truly are so verra good to me.”
He wrapped his arms about her and tucked her head beneath his chin. “I am nay good by nature but you make me want to be good, Alys, or at least as good as I may be.”
“Oh, Callum, you are good, the very best of men.” She hugged him back, drawing strength from his solid warmth, his unwavering love. Unlike her first husband, Callum wasn’t going to leave her, not for a whim, not for any reason.
He stepped back. Smiling, he shook his head. “So ’tis true, then. Love really is blind.”
She smacked his shoulder. “My eyes are in fine working order, and I tell you that you, Callum Fraser, are a good man.”
Callum was such a wondrous lovely man. It hurt her heart sometimes to see what a poor opinion he had of himself, how he turned a blind eye to his own fine qualities. He seemed to forgive everyone’s faults but his. Frequently he compared himself to his twin, Ewan, and just as frequently, he found himself failing. Brianna’s husband was a fine man, and he loved her friend with the whole of his heart. Still, in Alys’s experience, sinners tended to be far more tolerant than saints. She doubted Lord Ewan would have been as accepting of her past as was her soon-to-be lord.
She reached up and traced the sharp blade of his cheekbone with a single finger. “You’re no saint, I’ll grant you that. But then, who’s to say the saints themselves were all so verra saintly? I can’t help but think they must have had their failings, too. You, at least, own yours honestly.”
The smile he beamed would have stolen her heart had he not owned it already. “Small wonder I want to be a better man for you. How could I not, when you always see the verra best in me.” He leaned in. Anticipating his kiss, Alys let her eyes drift closed.
“Och!”
Callum’s deep grunt, of pain not pleasure, had her opening her eyes. She reached for him but too late. He staggered and fell back, striking the floor.
2
SQUINTING THROUGH the canopy of shooting stars, Callum made out Milread standing over him, broom held high. “Have you gone soft in the head, Callum Fraser, to come to your bride’s chamber on the eve of your wedding and disport yourself as though you were wedded already? You’re nay supposed to so much as set eyes upon her let alone do—” she waved a clawlike hand to indicate the overturned trencher, goblets and scattered cutlery “—that!”
Holding a hand to his pounding skull, Callum clamored to his feet. To find himself felled by a wee witch woman who scarcely came up to his waist would be a mighty blow to any man’s pride—but before his bride, no less!
He wheeled on her. “A curse on you, crone. I would have your head on a pike were you not my sister-in-law’s creature.”
“And my dear friend, as well,” Alys chimed in, stepping swiftly between them. She leaned into Callum and peered up at him. “How fares your head, my lord? You seem a wee bit flushed.”
“I’m fine!” he snapped, though judging from the throbbing, the assault had raised a goodly sized knot.
Milread rolled her crooked shoulders and spat upon his boot tops. “Fie, he’s a Fraser, isna he? They come with verra hard heads.”
“Why you—”
Callum’s code of conduct wouldn’t permit him to strike a woman, no matter how irritating that woman might be. So he did the next best thing, raising his fist high and punching air instead.
Alys moved to block Milread with her body. She wasn’t a tall woman but still she topped the crone by a full head. “Pray let us not argue and on Christmas, nay less.” She cast Callum a pointed look. “She means only to guard us against ill-luck.”
He peered around her to look at Milread, the devil’s own grin splitting her wrinkled face. “Guard us, that one! She’ll lead us straight to Hell more like. She’s no guardian angel but one of Beelzebub’s fiends.”
Milread ducked beneath Alys’s raised arm. “Mayhap I am, for ’tis fiendish delight I take in sending you off with that mighty pike in your pants.” She poked her stick at the bulge still throbbing between his thighs.
Cupping himself, Callum backed up lest a knot on his noggin be the least of the Christmas “gifts” the crone gave him. “Why, I’d as soon shove a pike down your gullet as—”
“Soft now, my lad, that great staff of yours shall find relief soon enough.” Aiming her weapon, Milread advanced. “For now, away with you and leave my lady to her rest.”
Alys blew him a kiss as he backed toward the door. Reaching behind him, he found the handle and turned it. “I will do as you bid, witch, but mind your mistress sleeps well, for she’ll have little enough rest tomorrow night or the other eleven to follow.”
CALLUM SLAMMED the door behind him, sending the candles sputtering in their sconces.
Alys turned back to Milread and sighed. “Milread, truly, that was very bad of you.”
The crone answered her with a dismissive wave. “Och, ’tis his pride that’s hurting more than his head. To think all my safekeeping’s been undone by that one’s selfishness. I will offer up a sacrifice to Lord Odin first thing on the morrow.” Broom in hand, she shuffled thr
ough the rushes to where the scattered supper lay.
Contrite, Alys followed her. “Let me do that.”
Scowling, Milread shooed her away. “To bed with you.”
Lest she give further offense, Alys obeyed.
Sweeping the spillage into a pile, Milread chortled. “Your lord’s head isna the only part of him that’s hard.” Leaning folded hands atop the broom handle, she turned toward her charge and cackled. “Randy as a bull your bridegroom is.”
Alys climbed into bed. “Aye, he is.” If tonight’s “kissing” was any sign, their wedding night promised to be merry and memorable indeed.
Wishing she were inclined to sleep, she sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed, idly stroking the beard burn branding her cheek. Minded of all the ways her lord had loved her—kisses, only kisses—had her womanhood beating like a tiny heart.
“How did you find Alasdair?” Guiltily she realized that she’d been too caught up with Callum and her own pleasure to spare her son so much as a thought.
Milread looked up from the pile she was creating and beamed. She was very fond of babies, but Alasdair especially. “Sleeping like a wee lamb, snuggled up to that stray you found for him.”
Alys smiled, too. The past summer she’d saved Cat from drowning at the hands of Callum’s cook—former cook. His “crime” had been to lick a joint of beef that had been left sitting out. Alys well remembered her “hungry days” in the months bracketing Alasdair’s birth, as well as what it felt like to bear the brunt of injustice. She’d scooped up the tabby and taken him under her care. Cat and Alasdair had become fast friends. Upon introducing the two, she’d shown her son how to approach and stroke Cat so that the animal would not be spooked nor Alasdair scratched. Even though he was a baby still, Alasdair was very gentle and Cat responded in kind.
Thinking of how adorable they were together, Alys felt her smile broadening. “I’d say Cat is stray nay more. Alasdair loves him dearly and even Callum tolerates him.” She’d even caught him feeding the cat scraps a time or two when he thought no one was watching.
Blaze Historicals Bundle II Page 20
