Then before she had a chance to protest, Lachlan gathered her up into his arms and began to race across the courtyard toward the keep’s entrance. In a matter of moments, while she took deep calming breaths, he carried her across the entire lower bailey.
Once inside the king’s grand castle, Lachlan strode briskly down the sconce-lined hallway. But instead of entering the great hall, he veered to the right down a corridor foreign to her.
“Where are you taking me La—Husband?” she asked, trying not to let the panic she felt show in her voice.
“To bed, Wife. Where else would we go?”
Rosalyn’s heart started to beat wildly. “To bed?” she screeched, not worrying whether anyone else was privy to their conversation. “You promised we would not consummate the marriage.”
“I did?” he asked innocently, his mischievous grin so close to her lips that he could have begun a seduction right there in the king’s hallway.
“You did, Lachlan. Set me down at once,” she insisted, arching her back and squirming to put distance between their lips.
He laughed at her resistance and to show her he was in command, tossed her over his shoulder like a bag of lumpy potatoes, then swatted her arse hard.
She began to kick her legs in protest, thinking he’d give up the domineering way he was treating her and set her back on her feet, but instead, her resistance fueled the need for him to swat her bottom a few more times as he continued unrelentingly down the corridor.
“You will regret this, Lachlan,” she said in a muffled voice with her lips pressed against his back.
A deep chuckle was the only response he gave. It rumbled through her, making her more aware than ever, that he could force himself upon her. He had the legal right now.
A loud thwacking sound brought Rosalyn out of her dread quickly when she realized Lachlan was kicking the chamber door open with his hands full of her squirming arse.
“Put me down, Lachlan. Put me down. This is not the way you want to start our marriage,” she demanded, struggling even more violently after he’d kicked the door shut. “If you arenae careful it will end before it’s begun.”
And in an instant Rosalyn found herself face down on a fur coverlet.
“Before what’s begun, Wife?”
Furious that she’d been tossed onto the bed as if discarded, she lifted her head so she could speak. “Am I no longer Rosalyn to you?” she asked, trying to hold back tears. “Only property?”
“If I call you ‘Wife’, I am not referring to you as a hog or parcel of land,” he assured her, chuckling.
She couldn’t see what he was doing from her position, but a loud thud echoed behind her that sounded like a boot dropping to the floor. Before she could take in another shaky breath, a second thud confirmed her suspicion.
“La—Husband,” she began, but before she got the rest of her thoughts out, a bare-chested Lachlan leaped onto the mattress beside her.
“Oh, no! Off, off, get off this bed,” she shouted, taking her hands and shoving against his muscular chest. The instant she touched his skin, a jolt of irresponsible passion surged through her body. No, she told herself, she had to fight it and him.
“I have nowhere else to go,” he said with a husky voice, ignoring her pleas and staying put beside her.
She sighed and stopped her attempt to shove him off the bed. “Lachlan, why are we not in the great hall?”
“We will be, my love, after we’ve proven to the king that the marriage is consummated.”
She wanted to start pounding his chest, but instead she bit her lip to keep from shouting out her protests again.
“Come,” he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and turning around on his stomach so he could reach for her.
Awkward in her long wedding dress, she tried to roll farther away from his grasp, but she kept her gaze on him as she moved. Half-expecting he would be angry with her for resisting, she was surprised when his dark eyes sparkled with mischief and his lips curled into a cocky grin.
While he began to strip off more of his clothes, she didn’t stop, but rolled to the other side of the bed, getting to her feet as quickly and efficiently as she could.
Once she was steady, she eyed him up and down, relieved his breeches were still on as they stood at opposite ends of the massive marriage bed. Giving him a little nod, she raced for the door.
“You cannot escape, Rosalyn,” he said softly and calmly. “The door is locked from the outside.”
She ignored him and in moments was at the door, grasping the iron lever, pushing down with all her might. But the handle did not budge.
She let out an exasperated huff. “From the outside?” she gasped, spinning to face him, fists clenched at her side.
He nodded solemnly, but with that mischievous grin still on his face. “This is the marriage chamber. Did your mother not counsel you?”
Rosalyn took a step back and clung to the wooden door as if a cliff jutted out inches before her feet, wondering if other virgins had done the same.
She refused to be intimidated. “Of course, I’ve been counseled, but ours is a marriage of convenience. Do not fool yourself that tis anything otherwise,” she said, finishing with a huff.
But as she pressed her back to the door dreading the outcome, like the railing of a sinking ship, she shuddered when she remembered what she’d been taught on coupling. Where the woman lay on her back and the man shoved his stiff cock between her legs and pushed into her channel with a rocking motion until it hurt.
When Lachlan started a slow stroll toward her, Rosalyn began to move from the door, sliding against the wall away from him. Although there was no escape from the chamber, she wanted to give herself time to think.
“Those in the great hall need proof we have tied the knot, not only in ceremony, but with blood evidence.”
Rosalyn’s breathing became shallow and she closed her eyes, praying something or someone would come to her aid. Mayhap Bishop Passarelli with a kind word or prayer. But before she even began to think that was possible, his lips were on hers in a moist ambush of passion. What little air she had left in her lungs was unable to make it to her head as she swooned slightly.
In response, Lachlan released her lips only to grab her arse and draw her into his chest. Without time to protest, he lifted her up into his arms again and carried her back to the marriage bed.
“Wife, you are not going to kick and scream again, are you now?” he asked, eyes glowing soft as he gazed upon her, his lips slightly reddened from his kissing.
She bit her tongue and shook her head no. It would be in her best interest to play along until she figured out another way to stay a virgin.
He stopped short of the foot of the bed and set her gently back on her feet. “That is better. I know you did not promise to obey me, but at least give me some cooperation.”
Rosalyn nodded.
“Good. Now let’s take a look at you,” he said, gently, tossing her veil aside and brushing her hair off her shoulders till it hung down her back. Then he reached forward as if to kiss her, but his grin moved past her lips to nip her earlobe. In slow, soft pecks he made his way down her neck, stopping at her shoulder, then his hands moved around her back and began unlacing her crisscross ties. When the bodice began to give way, her heart began to pound as if it wanted to be released from an iron cage.
Reaching the nape of her neck, Lachlan moved down to the swell of her breasts, propped high and proud. With his teeth, he tugged the ivory, silk fabric off one shoulder while she held her breath. And before his ministrations started up again, the bodice of her wedding dress drooped so low that her breasts spilled out.
Lachlan groaned and began sucking on one nipple that hardened like a traitor under his seduction. Her groin reacted with minute spasms and her throat went dry. This was
not in the counsel her mother had given. “Wife, you are more enchanting than I could have ever dreamed,” Lachlan admitted, as if surprised, gazing up at her after releasing her nipple, but continuing the seduction as he rubbed his thumb there.
What was Lachlan up to? Why was he toying with her like a wench? For if his aim was to take her virginity, should he dally with all of Scotland waiting?
But just as she was about to protest, his gaze met hers, revealing the passion trapped inside begging to be released. With his other hand, he shoved the remaining silk strap off her shoulder and let the wedding gown fall to her feet. She was totally exposed to her new husband’s whims. Nothing covered her but her own passion.
“You are so beautiful,” he gushed like a lad with a new shiny object. “I would savor you like a feast, but the guests and the king await.” As he held her gaze, he gathered her into his arms and gently laid her back on the bed.
Even though he had every right to take her, and he’d ignited a passion storm inside her, she was not ready to give up her virginity just because a king wanted her to. So when Lachlan turned away from her and began to loosen his belt, Rosalyn swiftly and silently stole his dagger from its sheath.
Now, would she have the courage to use it?
Chapter 22
Lachlan was relieved to find Rosalyn feisty, but not combative. Judging from the other moments they’d had together, she’d been more like a wildcat hellion when she didn’t get her way. No doubt the vows of marriage had challenged the boundaries she’d set, for tasting her now was more exhilarating than he’d ever imagined.
Sliding his embroidered breeches off proved more difficult than he expected. His manhood was so ready, it made his wedding attire difficult to remove. This amused him despite his frustration.
When he was finally free, Lachlan turned and took a wide stance with his hand on his hips, knowing it would make an impression.
And as he expected, Rosalyn’s gaze shifted to his groin and her eyes widened. In just a few heart beats, a pink flush covered her, inciting his passion even more.
She was perfect in so many ways, and if he treated her like a queen, perhaps she would let him be her king and he’d conqueror any doubts she had about his intention to make their arrangement beneficial for the both of them. For now, his shaft was commanding the room and both their attention.
As he approached her with a confident swagger, he watched the rapid rise and fall of her full breasts with their wicked tips beckoning him to touch her again. Yes, this was his wife, not a tavern wench, but he did not care which she was. He needed satisfaction. He needed to release his seed. He needed to be inside her.
Almost leaping onto the bed, he straddled her on his hands and knees, his shaft licking her belly. She groaned when he began to rub it against her soft stomach. And as if to tame him, she grabbed it hard like the handle of a whip and cupped his ballocks with the other.
“Aye, Wife, this is how a marriage should start.” He looked down on her approvingly. “Holding your husband by the balls.”
She giggled too, relaxing her face and her body.
He leaned down to nip her ear, then whispered, “This shall hurt just a little. Ere we’ve done it once, ‘twill be easier and easier the second and third,” he said soothingly.
She gazed up at him, but her expression changed after those words. “Nay, Lachlan, you do make my passion burn, but I shan’t give you my virginity. I don’t love you and I must have that.” Her voice trailed off as she said the words and she looked away.
“You will lead me this far, my vixen, and then leave me?” he growled, his voice revealing his disappointment.
But his words brought her gaze back to him. “Nay, Husband, I will not leave you.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You may hate me before the day is done, but I will always be compassionate. If can relieve you of any pain, let me do it now.”
He grinned. Yes, he thought, she was a healer, and if he was in pain or sick, she would be by his side or at least answer his needs.
“Aye, Wife. Stroke me as you’ve done before,” he insisted, then rolled over to his back beside her and closed his eyes. “If you do not need pleasure, I will not deny it of myself, especially when it pains me.” He popped open one eye to gauge her reaction. “Perhaps after you see the passion it brings me, you’ll reconsider.”
She’d turned to her side, taking most of the coverlet with her and hiding all of her gorgeous curves. Not that they would stop him from reaching underneath. Feeling was better than looking.
“Come, Rosalyn, take me in both hands,” he coaxed.
She let out a shaky breath and instead of staying cocooned beneath the covers, she threw them aside and in one graceful bound, straddled him. Taking his manhood in both hands, she gazed at it as if it were a prize, making his cock swell and heart pound.
With the skill she always approached her healing, she put the same effort into pleasing him. Asking him how he felt, if she was holding him the right way to give him the most pleasure, involved in all ways of wanting to satisfy him except for the act that would the most.
While he was reaching his climax, Lachlan gazed up at her tight bouncing breasts, wondering how she could give and not receive. And then he remembered something one of the mature ladies of the court had told him. She’d said just as men did not need to be inside a woman to rise to full passion, neither did a woman.
And with that in mind, even though he was almost in pain from his throbbing shaft, Lachlan decided not to take his release yet and gently reached inside Rosalyn’s channel and began to swirl his two fingers there.
Her once-serene face transformed into a hellion on fire. She cried his name and pounded his chest with her fists.
“What is this, Husband?” she asked, gasping and straightening up, fisting her hair as if would alleviate the fire burning inside her.
When her hands splayed across his chest again, the red fiery tresses were in total disarray, shooting in all directions. And instead of pounding his chest again, she clawed her nails through the curls.
“Husband, you have bewitched me,” she accused. “You must have covered yourself with an herb that would make me react this way. This is not natural,” she said, shaking her head.
If he wasn’t so ready to come, he’d have laughed. But it was no longer time for play, it was time to finish it for the both of them.
“Come, Wife, do what feels right,” he choked out, his throat so tight with passion.
With no more than that instruction, she placed her mouth on his shaft and did what most women would never do. She brought his to climax with her sweet, seductive tongue. And at the same time, he did not abandon her. No, he slid his two fingers into her channel, this time from behind her tight little arse, and circled them around rhythmically while she brought him out of his need.
With a complete squeal of delight, she collapsed beside him.
“What was that, Husband?”
“Marriage benefits. But now there’s the business of answering to the king.”
She smiled at him. And then out of nowhere a dagger rose over her head. His immediate instinct was to knock if from her hand, but in his satiated state, he had little coordination or speed and before he knew what had happened, there was blood on the sheet between them.
“What? Wife?” he said, inspecting his arms and limbs. No, he was not bleeding. Then his gaze traveled to the lovely, but disheveled creature across from him. As he scanned her quickly, he was relieved to find only a narrow cut on her thigh.
“Tis my dagger,” he said, not realizing his voice was shaking until the words were out.
“Aye, Husband. You must watch your back at all times around me.” She leveled her gaze.
“Little minx. You could have killed me.”
“Aye, Husband, I had the opportunity,
but I chose not to,” she said with a wicked, sly smile, her eyes sparkling like a sorcerous.
“Mayhap ‘twas you who bewitched me, Rose.”
She bristled at the namesake.
“For now, I’ll allow you to call me, Wife,” she said, tossing her disheveled hair behind her back.
“Well, I’m grateful you did not become both a bride and a widow on the same day and your cleverness or lack of commitment has solved the problem for the king,” he said with a hit of sarcasm.
He tsked and touched her thigh, pleased though the cut had dried already. “If I had thought of this, it would have been my blood,” he said sincerely.
“Do not doubt the resources of a king. I am sure he has a healer or advisor who can easily tell the difference between a man’s blood and a woman’s. I can.”
He snorted at that, but gave her a grateful smile. “Well, then, ready yourself for the great hall.” He nodded to the tall wardrobe in the corner. “‘Tis filled with dresses and everything you’ll need to become a lady once more. I can help you with lacing your dresses, but you’ll need a lady’s maid to do something with that hair.”
Naked, Rosalyn strolled over to the tall oval looking glass in the corner and burst out laughing. “Aye, Lockie, I may need a whole team of ladies’ maids to right this.”
Although he didn’t want to leave her now, he was certain one of the servants would be knocking at the door shortly for the evidence, so he quickly dressed back in his wedding attire as Rosalyn attended to her wound. After she’d wrapped it in a clean cloth, she turned to him. It was just a brief moment before he was across the room, gathering her into his arms again.
“I know you do not love me, Wife,” he said with such sincerity that it was comical enough to make Rosalyn burst out laughing.
“Aye, I do not love you, but you have not said that you love me either.” She waited for a response and when nothing came from him, she snorted. “I assumed as much.”
The Golden Rose of Scotland (The Ladies of Lore Book 2) Page 14
