Avery traced a finger down her cleavage. He cupped one plump breast in his hand and gently rolled its nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
Lucy felt a bolt of pleasure dart through her body. She shivered.
‘I should ever be grateful that I was left with at least some use in these fingers. As you can feel they come to good use,’ he said. She caught the wicked edge of his words.
At another time perhaps she would be possessed of the wit to reply to his jest, but here and now the words escaped her. With every second, they drew closer to the moment of truth. To that which she thought she would never know with him. She stood on the edge of one existence, poised to take the step into another world.
Outside the wind rattled at the windows. The rain lashed against the glass. Lucy involuntarily shivered at the thought of the freezing gale which was just outside the door. The light through the nearby window was now dimmed as black clouds covered the sun.
It was barely past noon, but outside it was as dark as night. No one would be coming or going to the Key this day.
‘We cannot allow you to get cold,’ Avery murmured. He placed his hands on either side of Lucy’s waist and made an attempt to lift her up. When his damaged hand failed to make a strong purchase, she slipped.
He swore under his breath, but she quickly whispered, ‘Let me help you.’
When he tried to lift her a second time, she jumped. With her legs wrapped around his lower back, he easily lifted her into a carrying position.
‘That’s the second time today we have managed to do something by working together. Let’s see if we can succeed with a third,’ he said.
Inside the bedroom, Avery tumbled Lucy onto the enormous bed. He trapped her beneath him and proceeded to kiss her senseless once more. She forced herself to concentrate on the kiss and not on Avery’s erection, which was pressed hard up against her thigh.
She reached up and touched the soft, black hairs on his chest. She had managed to capture a glimpse of them a few times before, when he didn’t think she was looking.
‘They are beautifully soft,’ she murmured, knowingly.
He chuckled. ‘Yes, I have noted your appreciation of my chest when you kiss me each night. I’m glad you like it.’
A sly grin appeared on his face.
‘How many times were you awake?’ she replied.
A raised eyebrow was all the answer she needed. Her nightly attentions had not gone unnoticed; he had been awake the whole time.
His reluctance to leave her at the last stop before Edinburgh now made a little more sense, but why then had he pressed to go forward with the divorce?
‘I don’t understand,’ she said.
Nothing seemed certain to her mind.
‘To tell the truth, I don’t think I fully understand the situation myself. Which, for someone who claims to know his own mind as often as I do, leaves me facing a bit of a conundrum. What I will say for certain is that we are not getting a divorce. You are my wife and I am prepared to try and make the best of things with you.’
Lying cradled beneath his heated body, Lucy considered Avery’s words. They were not the most romantic she could imagine, but they were honest. If she and Avery were to make something of a future together, it was at least a beginning. And yet the sting of disappointment was ever-present.
She frowned. Lifting her arms, she tried to push him aside and sit up. Avery slid to one side, but as he did, he trapped her legs within his. Lucy was going nowhere.
‘You are doing it again,’ he said.
‘Doing what?’ she asked.
‘Thinking too much. Just let things be and see where they take us. I want you to trust me, Lucy.’
Taking her face in his hands, he covered her lips once more with a scorching kiss. He kissed her softly at first, but it quickly grew into a heated encounter which had Lucy curling her toes. His hand trailed over the curve of her hip and he pulled her hard against him. She kissed him back as the tempo of their engagement edged a notch higher.
Oh!
Her inner voice began to throw words of doubt into her mind.
This is all wrong. You don’t want him this way. Where is the grand declaration of love?
She teetered on the edge of self-destruction. One false step and she would surely topple into the abyss.
Lucy began to pull away, withdrawing from the kiss. Retreating to save her heart. With their lips now barely touching, she heard Avery’s growl. Like that of a wounded lion.
She looked into his eyes, as Lady Alice’s words rang in her ears.
‘Anything of value has to be fought for and won. Do not give in.’
Reaching up, she ran her thumb tentatively along the day-old stubble on his chin. He really was a handsome devil and all she had to do was claim him as her own. Tomorrow and all its problems could wait. Avery would not.
‘I do trust you; it’s me that I doubt,’ she said.
He breathed hot and heavy into her ear, while his fingers resumed their soft dance up and down on her hip. He stopped at her knee, gently pushing her legs open.
She bit her lip, willing herself to remain calm. When Avery’s hand settled on the soft hair at the entrance to her womanhood, he stopped.
The moment of truth had come. He would not proceed without her express permission. No matter how the dance had begun, the next steps were as old as time.
‘Yes,’ she said. Her decisive words dampened down her fears.
Avery slipped a long finger inside her heat and began to stroke. Her body immediately tensed at such an overwhelming intrusion. Never before had someone touched her in this way.
‘We need to relax you more,’ he murmured.
She nodded. ‘How?’
What Avery had in mind became quickly apparent as he nudged her breast into his mouth and began to suckle hard on her nipple. Lucy felt her world shift on its axis.
Oh my sweet . . .
He brushed her nipple against his teeth and she groaned. Her breath grew ragged with every stab of this delightful pain. Never had she thought such pleasure possible. Avery’s finger now moved freely in her moistened heat. Long, luxurious strokes. A second finger joined the first, giving her the added sensation of being stretched. Her hips rocked back and forth with every stroke.
‘Is that good?’ he said.
Lucy, lying back in Avery’s arms, found herself beyond speech. She touched his arm and squeezed. Don’t stop, whatever you do, don’t stop, her fingers implored.
His thumb found the nub at the top of her entrance and slowly circled. With each rotation, her heartbeat increased. How on earth was she going to survive such sweet torture?
Of one thing she was certain: if he stopped she would go mad.
‘Open your eyes, Lucy,’ Avery said.
When she did, she saw his face was a picture of rapture. Giving her pleasure was increasing his own ardour.
‘Touch me,’ he said.
She reached out and touched his chest once more. When he let out a snort of frustration, Lucy quickly realised he was asking for quid pro quo. Virgin that she still was, now was not the time to play innocent with his needs.
He groaned as she took him firmly in hand. She stroked the length of his manhood, putting her study of the Kama Sutra to good use. When he closed his eyes on a second groan, she knew she had the rhythm just right.
He slowed his strokes and gently removed his fingers from her body. He untangled his legs from hers and rose over her.
‘Look at me. I want to see your face when I truly make you my wife,’ he commanded.
His hard erection parted the lips of her entrance and pressed in. She tensed, waiting for the oft-reported spear of pain, but it never came. Only a slight stretch and Avery was fully seated within her body. They were finally one.
His lips met hers in a deep kiss. Tongues thrust together in time, soon joined in rhythm by their hips. Avery rode her with deep penetrating thrusts. Lucy exulted in the sensation of feeling the length of him ca
ressing her. Pleasure coursed through her veins.
‘Give me your hands,’ he ordered.
Taking both her hands, he forced her arms above her head, leaving her completely open to him. With the rocking motion of their joined bodies, her breasts bobbed about.
Avery chuckled. ‘I think these need to be brought under my command.’
He sat back on his haunches and draped Lucy’s legs over his hips. Thrusting once more deep into her, he took both breasts under his hands and gave each nipple a hard squeeze.
When Lucy cried out, he did it a second time. Leaning forward, he took her right nipple in his mouth and gave it a gentle nip. She whimpered as the pain heightened her sexual arousal.
The tempo of their union grew to a frenzy. Avery penetrated Lucy harder and faster with every stroke. His ravishing of her breasts took her to the limit of her endurance. She sobbed under his masterful lovemaking.
When she finally climaxed, it was with a sudden explosion of light in her brain. Pleasure crashed through her core, leaving her gasping for air. Avery slowed his thrusts but kept his hips angled. His hard erection continued to rub against her throbbing nub as her heartbeat slowed and she returned to the now.
Avery released Lucy’s breasts from their torture. Looking up, she saw a satisfied smile on his lips. His virgin wife had been successfully bedded. Since she was now completely his, she accepted that he could afford to gloat just a little.
He withdrew from her body, the glint of desire in his eyes telling her they were far from done.
‘Roll onto your side,’ he said.
She moved to her left side, and Avery swung her right leg over his hip. When he entered her for a second time, she immediately understood the advantage the position gave him. With her moist entrance more open at this angle, he was able to achieve a deeper penetration than before.
Skilful hands gripped her hips as he drove into her willing body. At first it was long and deep strokes, which rocked the bed. Then the length and pace of his claiming of her changed. He roared and, gripping her hips tightly, frantically increased his thrusts.
‘No other man will know you. No other man will . . .’
Avery’s climax cut short his words. He screwed his eyes shut as his sweat-drenched head dropped toward his chest.
Lucy lay her hand over his where it still gripped her hip.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes.
‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. Tomorrow morning might be a different story. More than likely there would be bruises and twinges in various private places. At this moment she felt the bone-deep pleasure which came from her body having been well loved by her husband. Added to that was the knowledge that Avery had reached his own sexual climax with her. Lucy was more than all right.
He withdrew from her body and rolled over. They lay in the bed and faced one another. ‘Thank you,’ she said. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and kissed her lips. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in close.
‘You coped a lot better than I thought you might. I’m glad you trusted me. And yourself,’ he replied.
They slept on and off for most of the afternoon, while the storm continued to rage unabated outside.
When they eventually rose, they shared the task of gutting and cleaning the fish before baking it in the oven. Lucy stepped into the kitchen, carrying a bottle of her father’s best wine from the cellar. She stood for a moment, admiring Avery’s kitchen skills as he took the fish out of the oven and spooned some oil and herbs over it.
‘You’re a skilled hand at cooking fish. I take it you did a lot of fishing when you were a young boy,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘Not as much as I would have liked. I learnt to properly land a fish when I served in the army. It was either that or starve.’
‘But you must have received rations when you were out in the field?’ she replied.
‘If you call a dry piece of beef washed down with bitter, feeble coffee food fit for a soldier, then yes, we were occasionally fed by His Majesty’s army. The rest of the time, we were left to fend for ourselves.’ Avery took down some plates and assorted cutlery from a nearby shelf and set them out on the kitchen table. Lucy opened the bottle of wine and poured them both a glass. As she handed Avery a glass, they exchanged a grin.
When the fish was finally ready, Lucy took the sharp cook’s knife and cut the fish into two portions. She served them up on two plates and carried them to the table. She and Avery exchanged a shy smile as she took a seat. Later, when the time felt right, she would propose that they stay on at the Key for the rest of the week. Any supplies they needed could come up from the castle.
‘So which is mine?’ he asked, nodding at the plates.
Lucy stabbed her fork into the biggest piece of fish and laughed.
‘The smaller one,’ she said as she stuffed a sizable chunk into her mouth.
The glittering ballrooms of London were many hundreds of miles away; no one was going to critique her table manners in the wilds of Scotland. After the events of the afternoon, she was in a playful mood.
Avery sat back in the chair and studied her.
‘You really are a conundrum, Lucy. When first I met you, I thought you were the epitome of an upper-class miss.’
‘As well as a cunning wench?’ she teased.
He frowned.
‘I don’t know. Just when I think I can put a label on you, you do something which makes me question everything I thought I knew. For instance, I would never have picked you for someone who went fishing in a Highland lake.
She chuckled.
‘And caught a magnificent wild brown trout.’
Their gazes met momentarily. Lucy felt the familiar flush of red burn on her cheeks and she quickly looked down at her plate. Would there ever be a day when she would feel completely comfortable in Avery’s presence?
‘I’m proud of you, Lucy.’
She nodded her head, keeping her eyes fixed on her meal. He reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
One step at a time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Avery woke late the next morning. The pale light from the Scottish autumn morning filtered through the rough glass of the window and weakly lit the bedroom.
He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. The stone roof had been painted a pale cream colour, one of the few concessions to modern decoration in the rustic interior.
Out in the main room, he could hear Lucy moving quietly about the room. He wondered how late it had been when she finally slept.
A second bout of lovemaking late the previous night had drawn him into a deep and restful slumber. With Lucy curled up, her back pressed against his chest, he had fallen asleep to the sound of his wife’s soft breathing.
His wife. She really was that now. Lucy Fox was wedded and had most certainly been bedded.
He sat up in bed and stared at the slightly ajar bedroom door, listening. Lucy had got under his skin last night and awoken something within. Making love to her had felt the most natural thing he had ever done. She held nothing of herself back from him. A generous and willing lover.
In that aspect of their relationship he hoped they would find perfection. As to the rest, he prayed Lucy had not set her sights too high. Love was something he couldn’t see himself ever feeling for anyone. Having never known it in his life, there was every chance he would not recognise it even if it did happen.
He moved off the edge of the bed and crossed to the window. The storm had finally calmed to a steady, light drizzle in the early hours of the morning. Lying in the warmth of the blankets, his arm draped over Lucy’s hip, he had thanked his luck that he was not out in such a terrible tempest.
‘You’ve gone soft, Fox,’ he chided himself.
Lucy began to sing. Avery immediately recognised it from the night of the bonfire at the castle. The staff had sung it over and over until late into the night. Lucy had explained it was a Robert Burns song,
one which many considered the true Scottish national anthem.
‘Scots who have with Wallace bled,
Scots, whom Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed.’
Avery shook his head. What a charming early-morning tune for his bride to be singing. He had spent a lifetime in the army listening to battle-hardened veterans singing sweet love ballads first thing most days. Soldiers in the field had little appetite for songs of battle.
The door of the lodge opened and a cold wind blew in, slamming the bedroom door shut. Lucy’s cheerful tune disappeared outside.
Outside he could see Lucy, rugged up in her fur-trimmed cloak and hat, slowly making her way toward the rocky pass which led out of the Key. In her hand she held a small bag.
She was leaving.
‘What the devil are you doing?’ Avery bellowed at the glass.
In a panicked rush, he quickly rummaged around, searching for his trousers and shirt. He attempted to pull on his boots, swearing when he couldn’t stuff his feet into them fast enough. Finally, he gave up and ran barefoot from the room.
He raced to the front door, stopping only for an instant to quickly grab hold of his coat. He pulled the door of the hunting lodge open and ran outside.
‘Lucy!’ he roared, fear rising with every step. The sharp stones dug painfully into his feet, but he forced himself on.
At the sound of her name, she stopped and turned. The sheepish look on her face said it all. She had hoped to be long gone from the lodge before he woke.
‘I thought you were still asleep,’ she replied, as he reached her side.
He took hold of her arms and gripped them tightly while his gaze frantically searched her face. ‘Where are you going? You can’t leave! Not now. I won’t let you!’
Realisation dawned on her face and she shyly smiled. ‘After what happened last night, do you really think I would leave?’ she replied.
Relief flooded his mind. He loosened his grip on her arms. He pulled her roughly into his embrace, holding her tightly. ‘Of course not, I’m sorry. I was still half-asleep when you left the lodge. What are you doing out here?’ You should be in our bed. In my arms. He felt a sting of surprising emotion as he uttered the words. He had bedded plenty of other girls over the years; why should it feel any different with Lucy? Because you know it should.
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