She giggled. “I tried my best not to let on we’ve already enjoyed some of the pleasures she talked about, but I think she suspected.”
Still chuckling, he took her hand, led her to the door of their chamber and scooped her up. His hackles rose when Munro, Garnet, Giles and Luke came bounding up the stairs.
“Let me get the door for ye, brother,” Munro quipped.
Gray wanted to relish the rite of passage of carrying Faith into their bridal chamber. But his wife’s smile had fled, so he made a valiant attempt not to let his annoyance show. “I might have known ye’d have some shenanigans in mind,” he told the grinning men of his family as he set Faith on her feet. “I willna allow my bride to be embarrassed in any way,” he warned, hoping to reassure her.
“’Tis only ye we plan to torment,” Munro retorted.
Faith’s apprehension faded when the laughing women of the family bustled into the chamber. She was surprised to see her sisters among them.
“Dinna worry, daughter,” Gray’s mother panted. “I slowed everyone down, else we’d have been here at the same time.”
“I’m nay sure…” Faith began.
Jewel took her by the arm. “’Tis customary for the men to taunt Gray on his wedding night, but our job is to prepare ye.”
“Aye,” Garnet agreed. “Ye’ve been sick, Gray, so we’re here to help ye disrobe.”
“Thoughtful of us, do ye nay think?” Munro added.
Gray rolled his eyes, but Faith was glad to see the frown disappear as he held both arms wide. “Do yer worst,” he replied.
Jewel pulled Faith to the boudoir as the antics began. “I ken ’tis disappointing. If ye’re like me, ye probably wanted to help yer new husband take off his clothes.”
Her candor shocked Faith. “How did ye ken…”
“Let the men have their fun,” Sarah said. “You’ll have the rest of your lives together to undress each other.”
Esther, Rachel and Maggie all giggled, but it struck Faith full force that she was no longer a lass. She was a wife—and wives shared thoughts and feelings unwed lasses could know nothing of.
What’s more, she was a Pendray wife—a member of a close-knit and supportive group of honest women who loved and respected their husbands.
She was momentarily tempted to ask her sisters if they thought their parents had ever been in love, but suspected she knew the answer.
Thoughts of her childhood in Edinburgh fled when Jewel opened the armoire and took out an exquisitely embroidered nightgown of fine silk.
“We all contributed to the sewing,” Esther boasted with a broad smile.
“Even me,” Maggie declared.
“’Tis our gift to the bride,” Jewel explained, tears welling. “Now, let’s get ye ready.”
Faith closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, determined to store away every detail of the most important night of her life. She smiled at the male laughter coming from the chamber and imagined Gray’s face reddening as they teased him about being unable to find his bed-robe.
With the back fastenings undone, her gown slipped to the floor with a rich sigh. She grew warm imagining her husband standing naked, arms folded, patiently bearing the ribald remarks about his male parts.
Soon…
Once all the wedding finery had been removed and her body cleansed and perfumed, Faith was shivering as she stretched out her arms for the nightgown Jewel held. She fingered the beautifully embroidered yoke as the women eyed her up and down.
The countess kissed her cheek. “Gray will take good care of ye.”
She nodded. “I ken.”
“I’m happy for my brother,” Jewel whispered. “He’s a lucky mon.”
Gray willing accepted the ribbing. He was fortunate to have kin who cared about him present at his wedding. He’d expected Munro to instigate some sort of ritual teasing, especially since his older brother had missed out on having family attend his wedding.
His nakedness didn’t embarrass him—indeed an inner devil wished Faith would appear and see him—all of him. However, girlish giggling heralded Esther, Rachel and Maggie, who hurried by, hands held like blinkers to shield their eyes. He hastily cupped his own hands over his manhood, tempted to remove them when Jewel and his mother led Faith back into the chamber.
They tucked her up in bed, but not before he’d feasted his eyes on the silky nightrail that clung to every shapely curve. His arousal hardened further.
Sarah avoided looking at him as she took her husband’s arm. “You’ve had your fun, Munro. Leave them be now.”
“Aye,” Jewel said to Garnet. “’Tis time for Gray to join his wife in their marriage bed.”
Giles laughed. “’Twill be more comfortable than sleeping together in the tent.”
His face reddened when every head turned to him. “Er…I mean…”
Faith’s frown convinced Gray it was time to intervene. He didn’t want anyone thinking his bride was not an innocent. “What he means is, the three of us were obliged to share a small canvas shelter in the Isles, but Giles was always betwixt Faith and me.”
“And Gray was a perfect gentleman,” Faith declared.
“We never had any doubt,” his mother replied. “About either of ye. Now, everybody out.”
At Last
Faith threw back the linens and perched on the edge of the mattress.
Gray turned away from the door as it closed, the bed-robe Munro had finally thrust at him clutched in one hand.
He gave the garment a momentary glance before tossing it aside. Nostrils flared, he walked to the bed.
Staring at the magnificent male creature she’d promised to love for the rest of her life, Faith was tempted to fall to her knees in thanksgiving for such a gift. The scar on his thigh only enhanced his fierce beauty.
She stood, reached her arms around his neck and molded her body to his heat.
He lifted her into his embrace and they clung together for long minutes. “I love the feel of this silky garment,” he whispered. “But it has to go.”
He helped peel the nightgown off, then stepped back to study her.
The certainty Gray liked what he saw chased away the old inhibitions about her body. For the first time in her life, she was grateful for full breasts—so grateful she cupped them and arched her back. “Suckle me again, husband,” she breathed.
He licked his lips. “Temptress,” he murmured as he lowered his head and feasted like a hungry bairn.
Abandoning herself to a world of rampant desires, she loosened the black ribbon of his queue and ran her fingers through his long hair. Vaguely aware of being lifted onto the bed, she whimpered for the suckling to resume when cool air assailed her wet nipples.
He fulfilled the need, nigh on sending her over the edge when he cupped her mons. “Gray,” she growled.
“Aye, Faith,” he rasped. “Ye’re already wet for me. Tell me what ye want.”
“Touch me,” she whispered, spreading her legs. “Like before.”
“Here?” he teased, pressing a finger to the exact spot she craved.
Desire turned her into a wanton. “Aye, play with me.”
She writhed, pleasure upon pleasure flooding her senses as his finger worked its magic.
Then, suddenly, he was kneeling between her legs, lifting her hips.
Their eyes met. Faith saw the hunger of an aroused male in his gaze, but it brought elation, not fear. Gray truly loved and needed her.
His mouth descended on her most intimate part, his finger moving in and out of her opening as he suckled.
The euphoria was indescribable, almost unbearable, yet, if he stopped, she would die.
Her nipples screamed for attention, so she squeezed the rigid buds, crying out when her body was freed from the climb and carried into an ecstatic world. Bright colors flooded her vision; heavenly sensations rippled from her toes to the top of her head, and back.
“Beautiful,” Gray whispered. “Hold on.”
If there was pai
n as he seated his manhood and thrust inside her, it was nothing compared to the joy of feeling the friction of his length massaging the still-pulsating muscles of her sheath.
Legs clamped around his hips, she pressed her palms to his chest, brushing his male nipples with her thumbs as he withdrew, then plunged in again, then withdrew.
She matched his rhythm, sensing he too was building to a climax. “I love ye,” she whispered.
Faster and deeper he plunged, struggling for breath, until he lifted his gaze to the rafters, the muscles of his neck straining as his seed erupted into her body. “Mine,” he exclaimed with one last thrust before collapsing on top of her.
She clung to him, tracing fingertips through the sheen of sweat on his back, deliriously happy to bear his weight and feel the pulsing of his manhood deep inside her.
Gray wanted to stay inside Faith forever but, inevitably, his cock eventually softened and curled up in the damp nest of the curls at her mons.
Held in the thrall of sexual ecstasy, he hadn’t given a thought to his wounded thigh, but a deep ache reminded him he wasn’t fully healed.
Faith tried to hold on to him as he rolled to lie at her side. He drew the linen over her nakedness. “Just for a while,” he promised. “My leg.”
She curled into him. “I’m sorry. I forgot about it.”
He chuckled, putting his arm around her so her head nestled on his chest. “So did I. We were busy.”
She inhaled. “Ye smell of lavender.”
“I think it rubbed off ye,” he replied. “The perfume filled my senses.”
“Sarah mentioned men like the scent.”
“So, minx, ye thought to seduce me with it, did ye?” he quipped.
“Aye, ye’re mine now,” she retorted. “I’ve bewitched ye.”
“I’ve always been yours,” he admitted. “I was too dimwitted to realize it until I came back from Edinburgh.”
“I kent one day ye’d belong to me.”
“Ye kept the faith.”
They both laughed at the double meaning.
He kissed the top of her head. “Let’s sleep for a while, then we can make love again. If ye want to, that is.”
She feigned a punch to his ribs. “Of course I want to. We can do it now, if yer leg isna too painful.”
Yawning, he put her hand on his sated manhood. “’Tisna my leg needs time to recoup from breaching yer maidenhead.”
“Oh,” she replied with an innocence that stirred renewed interest in his balls.
Despite the excitement of a long day and the euphoria of surrendering her virginity to the man she adored, Faith fought off sleep, content to lie listening to Gray’s breathing.
During the mission to the Isles, she’d often lain awake in frustration listening to the same sound. Now, her heart rejoiced with every rise and fall of his chest.
No one had mentioned a man needed time to recoup and she wondered how long she would have to wait before his manhood filled her again.
She clenched her inner muscles, remembering the thickness, the feeling of fullness, of being possessed.
When the candles guttered, she worried about his leg. He claimed it hadn’t bothered him, but perhaps the strenuous movements had torn open the wound, or aggravated it in some way.
She carefully slipped the linens from his body, awed again by his masculine beauty. In the glow of the banked fire, he looked like a bronzed god in repose, the livid scar his only imperfection.
His shaft looked different now, asleep amid the dark curls. Her mother-by-marriage had explained the mechanics of the male body, but it was curious nonetheless.
Her curiosity about what might cause a peaceful appendage to swell to heart-stopping proportions was satisfied when she leaned over and feathered light kisses the length of his scar. She looked up and saw he was staring at her, his eyes bright in the firelight.
“Dinna stop,” he whispered.
She came to her knees and licked his wound, elated when his manhood became bigger still.
“Put yer hand on me,” he growled.
She decided to exceed his expectations. Moving to between his legs, she kissed his manhood, then took him into her mouth.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as she moved up and down on him, tasting his growing desire.
The reason for her existence became clear—she’d been born to bring pleasure to a good man who loved her. She’d grown up in a household ruled by the power of fear. As Gray’s wife, she wielded a more powerful weapon—love.
The skin of his thighs grew warm against her breasts. He meshed his fingers in her hair and lifted her head. “My shaft has recovered sufficiently now,” he teased. “But my leg still pains me. Ye’ll have to do the work.”
She thought to resume the ministrations with her mouth but he cupped her face with one hand. “Straddle me, Faith.”
He held her hands as she lowered herself slowly. She gasped with delight, arching her back when his manhood touched her womb. The sensation of union was different from before. More complete. A true joining. “I feel like we’re one forever,” she said.
“We are,” he replied. “Now, ride me to heaven.”
Glorious Revolution
December 20th 1688 Kilmer, Ayrshire
On all fours, Gray romped along the carpeted floor of Kilmer’s gallery, neighing and tossing his head like a spirited pony. Perched on his back, his daughter clung to his hair, giggling as only a two-year-old lass can.
“Ye’ll aggravate yer leg,” his mother warned, hefting a sulking Patience from his back when he stopped for breath.
The ache in his thigh did tend to worsen as winter took hold, but Gray couldn’t refuse when Sage demanded her turn next. “On ye get,” he agreed as she climbed up with her grandfather’s help.
Gray set off again, somewhat relieved this excursion the length of the gallery would be easier. His daughters were twins, but they had almost nothing in common. Dark-haired, blue-eyed Patience was solid and strong; Sage was delicate with her mother’s chestnut hair and amber eyes. Patience was rambunctious, Sage quiet and gentle.
Folks often remarked Sage suited her name, whereas Patience…
Faith usually retorted everyone should have anticipated her personality when she came into the world, screaming loudly, ten minutes before her twin.
Anxious as always to imitate his uncle, Blair was serving as pony to his sister, Gemma, while their mother nursed baby Pearl.
Hands clasped behind his back, Marten stood ramrod straight, observing the antics like a stern-faced tutor watching naughty bairns. He refused his father’s offer to carry him piggyback as part of the fun. “It’s hardly the way to celebrate the fourth Sunday of Advent,” he protested.
“I dinna ken where my son gets these ideas,” Munro lamented. “True enough ’tis the season of Advent, but our family has never observed the Popish rituals. Rather ’tis a joyous time to anticipate Christ’s birth.”
Unable to coax her overly-serious brother into acting as her steed, Mary Ward rode atop Giles Raincourt, recently arrived home from university for the Yuletide season.
According to Faith, whatever Giles had said to Esther the day he left for Glasgow seemed to quickly cool her ardor. Since his return, they’d barely exchanged a word. Esther had apparently been seen keeping company with James Madison’s son.
Sarah made no secret of her relief Faith’s sister no longer hung on Giles’ every word. She’d been heard to whisper Esther wasn’t suited to being a surgeon’s wife.
Sage lost interest in her pony as soon as maidservants entered with trays of sweetmeats and marchpane. Gray helped her slide off his back, filled with a heartwarming sense of family as he stood up straight and watched all the bairns hurry to the sweets. Even Marten wandered over to the table.
“My son’s Achilles heel,” Sarah confided to Faith as Gray plopped down between them on the sofa. “He can’t resist pastries.”
Gray inhaled deeply when Faith put her hand on his thigh. �
�Does it pain ye?” she asked.
After three years of marriage, her touch never failed to stir interest at the base of his spine. He moved her hand closer to his groin than was appropriate, but they were among family. “Aye, but I’m sure ye’ll kiss all my aches better later.”
Sitting on Faith’s lap, nineteen-month-old Ambrose tapped a partially healed scrape on his knee. “Kiss for me too, Mammy,” he murmured.
Faith obliged her son with a soothing peck.
Chuckling, Sarah rose from the sofa. “Out of the mouths of babes…”
Watching his sister-by-marriage make her way to the table of sweets, Gray leaned over to whisper to his wife. “I wonder why Munro and his wife havna sired more bairns after Marten and Mary Ward.”
“They’ve never said anything directly,” Faith replied. “But I sense Sarah was abused by her first husband. Perhaps that has something to do with it.”
Gray gritted his teeth. He couldn’t abide men who abused women, and her comment resurrected the bitter memories of Faith’s narrow escape in Edinburgh. “I put it down to Munro’s frequent prolonged absences as a member of the Scottish parliament.”
Faith shook her head. “Garnet always accompanies him to the capital, yet he and Jewel now have three bairns with another on the way.”
“Well, there’s nay doot Munro’s frustrated by the lack of progress with his campaign for reform. Since his return home for Yuletide he’s complained constantly about Parliament’s preoccupation with the events of the so-called Glorious Revolution.”
“Personally,” Faith replied, “I believe the school ye founded here has more chance of changing things in the long run. ’Twas a brilliant idea.”
Gray was tremendously proud of the small school they’d established at Kilmer to teach reading and writing to local bairns who had no access to learning. It had taken patient persuasion to convince tenant farmers to allow their offspring to spend time away from their duties. However, after a couple of years, some of the lads who could now read, write and do sums had procured clerical positions in Kilmarnock’s coal mines and whisky distilleries. Their families were proud of their achievements and benefitted financially. Now, folks from further afield were seeking to enroll their bairns.
Highland Rising (The House of Pendray Book 4) Page 18
