by Lynsay Sands
Kyla stared at him, charmed by this confession. He had a lovely smile and his eyes were gentle at the moment, crinkled with wry humor. He had a nice face. He was a nice man, and the more time she spent with him, the harder it was for her to remember just why it was exactly that she didn't want to be married to him. Had there really even been a reason? Or had she just resented it because she'd had no say in it? That was probably closer to the truth, she acknowledged to herself. She had no reason to turn this man away, to wish this marriage annulled. In fact, with every passing moment in his presence, Kyla became more certain that she could have a good life with him. A happy life. Ruling at his side. Helping him to tend to the daily troubles of being laird here. Bearing his children...
Lots of children. At the moment, that idea was uppermost in her mind. His face was nice, his hair nice, but he had a beautiful body. Just being close to him like this was building an incredible excitement within her. She wanted to touch him, wanted to press and feel her naked body against him. Have his strong arms close around her and cuddle her close. She wanted him.
Reaching out, she ran her fingers gently over his cheek, feeling the stubble of a day's growth. She saw his eyes widen in surprise at the touch and smiled slightly. If he had expected her to be shy, he had been mistaken. Kyla was nowhere near shy. Her brother had taught her to fight for what she wanted with anything and everything she had at hand. And she now wanted this man.
Lifting herself up on her elbow slightly, she pressed her lips to his, rubbing them curiously back and forth, enjoying the feel of their lips meshing. A smile of triumph curved her mouth as she felt him suddenly growing against her hip where he was nestled. He, too, was finally showing some interest in this endeavor. In the next moment there was no doubting his interest as he took over the kiss, his tongue surging out to part her lips and dive inside her mouth. Kyla tilted her head, her mouth opening wide, her own tongue slipping out to duel with his. She turned slightly, pressing her body to his, wishing her undertunic were not between them as his hands slowly began to move. She felt one hand on her outer leg, then it swept its way upward, riding beneath her gown to her hip, even as he tried to caress her with his other hand. She felt the tips of his fingers brush lightly over the under curve of her right breast and shuddered, but knew that he was hampered by the need for his elbow to remain in place on the bed to hold him up.
When he suddenly made a grunt of frustration in his throat and started to pull himself into a sitting position, she followed automatically rather than give up his lips. She felt him smile against her mouth with his own moment of triumph at that, but didn't care as he began to tug on the collar of her tunic. Reaching up to help him, Kyla pulled the gown to the edges of her shoulders, then wriggled her arms and shoulders helpfully as he tugged it downward. An excited shudder ran through her as she pulled her arms out, and it dropped around her waist, leaving her upper body bare. She quickly pressed herself against him, moaning into his mouth as the hairs on his chest tickled the tips of her nipples. Then she felt one hand slide between their bodies and curve itself over her breast like a second skin.
Tingling under his touch, Kyla arched against him, her breathing becoming rapid as his other hand slid around to cup her buttocks. He kissed her until she was moaning a plea into his mouth. Only then did he grasp her more firmly, urging her upward onto her knees before him. She did as he urged, her head bending down, trying to maintain the kiss, but then he pulled his mouth away and she groaned in disappointment, only to gasp in the next moment as he pressed a kiss between the breasts now before him, then turned his head to catch and lave one nipple.
Clutching at his shoulders for balance, she tilted her head back and arched into the caress, a tortured moan slipping from her lips as his mouth suddenly left her breast, leaving it moist and cold in the open air. But as his lips closed over her other breast, she moaned again with pleasure and peered down on him, finding watching what he was doing even more erotic. His eyes were closed, his lips pursed around her nipple as he suckled.
As if her gaze were a physical thing he was aware of, his eyes suddenly popped open and he met her glance. He let the nipple slip from his lips, and, still watching her face, he slid his tongue out and deliberately laved the erect tip. Kyla felt like a log he had set a torch to. Dropping back onto her haunches, she claimed his mouth again, her own tongue coming out aggressively, demanding attention. She heard him chuckle deep in his throat but found no time for self-consciousness. She wanted his kisses, she wanted him, she wanted it all.
Kyla had become so engrossed in devouring his mouth and arching her body into his that she didn't at first notice when he began to urge her backward onto the bed. She merely tightened her arms fiercely around his neck, keeping him where she wanted as she arched into him. In fact, she didn't notice until he caught her hands in his and drew them relentlessly away from him, forcing them down onto the bed on either side of her head. Then he tore his mouth away.
Panting as if she had been running, Kyla glared at him briefly, then gasped and moaned as his lips dipped down to one ear and began to explore there. She had never noticed her ears being especially sensitive before, but now nerves there were screaming with excitement, making her almost mindless.
She stood it as long as she could, her hands clenching beneath his where he held them down, her toes curling. She cried out and stretched her neck, wanting to evade and prolong the sensation at the same time. But he was already moving on, his lips skimming her throat, her collarbone, cresting her breast. He stopped for another lick there, then dipped further, sliding provocatively over her stomach and setting it quivering in reaction as he continued downward, pushing her tunic before him.
He had released her hands by now, but she wasn't really aware of it. Her fingers were now clenched into the linens on the bed, her nails digging into and through them right into her palm. She noticed neither, though, as her senses followed his trail down over one hip. He raised himself up slightly, quickly and efficiently slid the gown the rest of the way off, and knelt between her legs. He paused then to glance toward her face, and Kyla held her breath, her own gaze meeting his before dropping boldly to the evidence of his arousal, and there was no mistaking his interest now. Her eyes were still fixed there when he shifted backward a bit on the bed, dropped to his stomach, urged her legs further apart, and suddenly lowered his face between her thighs.
Kyla nearly bucked right off the bed, her body going tense, arching upward as he did things she had never imagined anyone doing. Good Lord, she wasn't even positive what he was doing, but she liked it.... It felt so good.
That was her last coherent thought as she rode the wave he set her on, her body arching and tightening and quivering until she suddenly cried out, her shoulders rising up off the bed as her body convulsed with such intense pleasure that she could have sobbed from it.
Consumed by the sensations overwhelming her, Kyla wasn't really aware of his moving until he was on top of her. Her arms moved automatically around his neck, her mouth pressing against the salty skin of his shoulder as she felt something nudge against her still spasming flesh. Then he surged into her with an abrupt thrust that made her gasp.
Freezing fully inside her, Galen dropped his head to her chest and they both lay as still as granite for a moment. Then he lifted his head and peered at her cautiously. "I'm sorry," he shifted slightly, testing their fit and shook his head slightly. "Damn, yer tight. Are ye all right?"
"Aye," she breathed, shifting carefully to wrap her legs around his hips in an effort to ease the discomfort she was experiencing.
Galen caught the wince that flashed across her face as she moved and narrowed his eyes in concern. "Yer not all right."
"It isn't what you think, I--" She sighed unhappily. "'Tis my back. The salve has worn off. But 'tis not so very bad," she added pleadingly, then held her breath as he continued to simply frown at her. That breath slid out on a sigh of disappointment when he withdrew himself and ordered her onto her stomach. D
oing as he asked, Kyla turned on the bed, thinking he meant to tend to her back, ending this sweet torment. Confusion filled her when, rather than removing her bandages, he ran a hand lightly over her rounded buttocks.
"We must be careful," he announced and Kyla nodded jerkily, her attention focused on the hand caressing her, teasing her briefly before slipping between her legs to find the spot that had so aroused her earlier.
Kyla bit the bunched up bedclothes beneath her face, her legs easing apart to offer him better access as he continued his caress.
"That's it, sweetling," he murmured as she wriggled against his touch, then frowned as his gaze slid to her scar. He had thought to spare her back by positioning her like this, but was now afraid of hurting her with his own weight. He considered the problem for a moment, then slid his other hand beneath her stomach and pressed upward.
Confused, Kyla shifted onto her hands and knees on the bed and glanced over her shoulder curiously, her eyes turning round as her husband knelt behind her. Catching her expression, he grinned, and slid into her from behind with no more ado than a light grasping of her hips.
Fingers digging into the bedclothes beneath her, Kyla experienced the sensation of him filling her, then gasped again and stiffened as his hand slid back down and past her stomach to find the core of her once more. Still holding her by the hip with one hand, he began to urge her back into him and away with that hand while the other continued fondling her in a way that had her gasping and crying out. Within moments, her body was shuddering, her muscles convulsing around him.
Galen waited until she had stilled, his aroused flesh buried deep within hers, then began to fondle her again as he eased himself out. Kyla shuddered violently under his touch, shaking her head in denial, then moaning as he eased back into her, amazed to find a fire she had thought dead bursting back to life.
"Is it not done?" she gasped in surprise.
"Do you want it to be?" he gasped from behind her, and Kyla shook her head violently. Nay, she didn't want it to be over. At that moment, she never wanted it to end.
And it didn't until she found release again. This time, he arrived there with her.
Chapter Ten
"What?" Kyla gaped at Morag where she sat doing needlework by the fire, hardly able to grasp what the woman was saying.
"Ye heard me. He's out."
Kyla sank weakly into the chair across from her old nurse, oblivious to the waiting stares of the few people in the hall. Morag's friend Guin was silent and still, as were the two servant women who had been scrubbing diligently away at the trestle tables when she'd come below. The only other person present was Robbie, her guard for the day.
Robbie stood a few feet away, leaning against the hearth and peering into it as if lost in thought. In truth his ears were cocked and awaiting her reaction. He had no idea what it might be, but suspected it would not be good. New brides tended to expect attention from their husbands the day after consummating a marriage, and judging by his laird's wide smile that morn, he had got more than strife from his wife yestereve--despite the inauspicious beginning to the evening at supper. No doubt, Lady Kyla would take exception to his leaving her to her own devices today. Besides, his morning had been fairly lousy so far; he could hardly expect the pattern to change now.
Actually, things had been going that way since the day before when he had returned to his small cottage to find his wee wife in a foul temper and slamming things about. It seemed she had taken exception to their laird's behavior on the beach, thinking he had intended on seducing that poor innocent Iseabal she had met--"and him married and all."
Robbie had had quite a time getting her to be silent long enough to tell her that the lass she had befriended on the beach was none other than their laird's bride. Aelfread had been flummoxed by that information, and in truth she had not accepted it well. Staring at him as though he had suddenly sprouted another head and dropping into the nearest seat with amazement, she'd begun raving about the sneaky ways of the English and fie on that Sassenach wench for fooling her that way. By the time she was done and he had been able to drag her--protesting all the way--to the keep, their laird and lady had retired to their room.
He and Aelfread had had to hear secondhand of what had happened when Galen had toasted the marriage. Much to Robbie's surprise, where only moments before his wife had been cursing the Englishwoman, on learning that the lass had had no idea of the marriage--Robbie had forgot to mention that bit to his wife--Aelfread had changed allegiance at once.
In truth, he had avoided saying anything about the lass, since any mention of the woman who had given him the wound in his chest had sent his wife into fits. That being the case, Aelfread had had no idea that Kyla had been so ill at the time of the marriage that she had not even recalled it upon awaking. Upon learning that, Aelfread had then concluded that her sickness had likely induced her attack of Robbie as well; Kyla was forgiven. It all seemed clear, she said. Everything was Galen's fault.
Where before she had cursed their laird's new bride as a foolish Sassenach who knew not when to be grateful for such an honorable man's interference, she had turned to denouncing Galen for mishandling the whole situation. She now sympathized vociferously with Kyla's dismay and outrage.
Robbie shook his head now at the very memory. Women were a daft breed and impossible to understand at the best of times. Any man who thought differently was a fool. The moment you reckoned you had them figured out, you may as well cock up your toes in preparation for burial, for your very arrogance was sure to get you killed.
Realizing that the silence had dragged on quite awhile, Robbie glanced over his shoulder to see Lady Kyla still staring rather blankly into space. Frowning slightly at her reaction to a situation he had felt sure would infuriate her, he glanced toward her maid and cocked an eye in question. Morag shrugged.
"Lass?" Kyla peered up forlornly at Morag when her raspy voice caught her ear. "Be ye all right?"
Sinking back in her chair, she forced a nod. In truth, she was far from all right, but had no intention of letting that be known. The people here already thought her a silly fool incapable of looking after herself. She did not wish them to know just how foolish she really was. And she was coming to the conclusion that she was most definitely a fool of the first order.
Last night had been...Well, for her it had been a beautiful, exciting, eye-opening experience. She had come alive in the MacDonald's arms, experiencing heights she had never imagined possible as he had loved her throughout the night. She had gone to sleep lying on her stomach upon his chest, her head cushioned in the crook of his shoulder, her mind lulled by the feel of his hands gently caressing her arms. She had dreamed of a joyful life filled with laughter, children, and her husband.
She had awoken to an empty bed in a chill room, thinking at first that her night of passion had been imagined. But the bedclothes had been in a tumble and her body had borne enough aches and pains to assure her it had not been a dream.
Still, unable to keep back the smile that had been bursting over her face, she had washed herself at the basin by the bed, her mind drifting to memories of the night before. She had remembered her dreams, as well, of the long life and happiness she felt sure she could find with the gentle lover of the night before. Surely someone so gentle in their bedchamber would be equally caring and considerate outside it. She'd enjoyed a shiver of anticipation for the life ahead of her. Everything would be different now. She had a partner to travel through life with, a mate to bear and raise children with, a people to belong to...
It wasn't until then that she had realized how lonely and out of place her brother's marriage had made her feel. Until Catriona, Forsythe had been her home, its people her own. She had run the manor for Johnny when he was away, which had been most of the time. The people she had grown up with had accepted her word without question...until Catriona had arrived. As Johnny's bride, she became mistress there, taking over all the little chores that had been Kyla's domain until then. She h
ad tried to pretend that she did not mind stepping aside, but every time someone had approached and made an enquiry of the new Lady Forsythe, Kyla had felt a part of herself cringe from the reality that was so hard to face. Forsythe was no longer her home.
Somehow, the exchange of a few vows between Catriona and Johnny had changed everything for Kyla. She had gone from being lady of the manor to being the master's sister, a burden, until she could be married off and had a home to call her own. It had seemed patently unfair to Kyla, despite her knowing that it was natural, and her heart had ached at the loss of what she had always thought of as her family. Oh, the servants and villagers had not been cruel about it, nor had Johnny, nor even, in truth, Catriona. Her new sister-in-law had been neither overly cruel nor overly kind and considerate regarding the takeover, merely matter-of-fact.
Everyone else, however, had been exceedingly kind in all their dealings with her...and that had been the worst of it. Where she had once felt kindness and even affection from these people, she had suddenly sensed vague apologies and pity as they had glanced at her uncomfortably before turning to Catriona. Last night and this morning on arising, Kyla had thought that all changed. She had a home now thanks to this marriage. A home and people.
In a burst of enthusiasm, she had hurriedly dressed and rushed below stairs with some vague idea that her husband would be sitting at the table. He would glance up at her arrival, smile sweetly, kiss her gently, and wish her a good morrow, then urge her to sit with him and discuss her plans on this the first day of her role as Lady MacDonald, mistress of the manor. Such had not been the case.
She had realized before she had reached the bottom of the stairs that she had misjudged the time, that it was far later than she had thought. That had been her first disappointment, but she had rallied, thinking her husband would be about the keep somewhere and would be pleased upon her arrival wherever he was. Only that did not appear to be likely, since the man was off with his men in a boat, seeking lobsters or some such thing.
