by Madison Faye
My Iona.
I’m almost amused at my own disappointment that she’s clothed this time. As if, what, did I imagine she’d answer the doors dressed or rather undressed for the bath again? She’s in a simple but beautiful green outfit—a laced bodice that fits the swell of her full breasts enticingly, in a way that’s almost designed to drive a man to madness, or at least to stare. Her skirts are green as well—a wrap-around kind, and when she shifts and I get a glimpse of the creamy skin of her leg, it takes more than it ought to suppress the growl.
“You didn’t come to supper,” I say quietly, my eyes leveled at hers, fighting the urge to drink in the sight of her plunged neckline and the smooth, supple skin of her young bosom.
“I—no, I—I wasn’t hungry.”
A smirk teases my lips.
“So, it has nothing to do with my bathing chambers earlier.”
Her face goes positively crimson, her bottom lip catching in her teeth as they rake across it. She quickly shakes her head.
“No—no my lord. I just…” she swallows, avoiding my eyes. “I wasn’t hungry.”
After what I heard earlier? Nay, lass. I’m betting you’ve worked up an appetite making that little cunt cum while you moaned my name.
I keep my words to myself though.
“You should eat,” I say instead, handing her the plate of food.
“My lord, I’m not—”
“Eat, Iona.”
She blushes again as a smile spreads across her lips, and she looks up at me with that beauty in her face as she takes the plate.
“I suppose I could eat.”
I chuckle as I follow her into her chambers, closing the door behind me. Iona glances back at me, her lip caught between her teeth again and a faint blush on her cheeks as she sits at the little table by one of the arched windows to her quarters. I follow, making my way to her and sitting across from her as she starts to nibble at the plate of food I’ve brought her. We sit in silence for a minute before I speak.
“You need not be embarrassed.”
Iona blushes instantly, knowing I’m referring to my bathing chambers earlier.
“I—I’m not.”
I grin. “Oh, of course not. Men walk in on you bathing all the time, do they?”
Her eyes dart to mine, a mischief in them that gets my pulse roaring.
“Perhaps.”
She says it flippantly, with a little smirk on her lips and a sparkle in her eye. My jaw clenches, a flash of anger, of possessiveness, burning through me in an instant.
Iona giggles, her grin spreading into a smile.
“No, my lord,” she laughs, taking a bite of her food. “And anyways, I shouldn’t have just been in there. It was my fault.”
“It was.”
She snorts a laugh, instantly blushing again and covering her mouth with a hand as she giggles with a mouth full of food.
“It is a wonderful bath, you know.”
I shrug. “I do know.”
Iona grins. “You know, Cat and I used to—”
“I’m fully aware,” I chuckle. Her jaw drops in surprise.
“Wait, really?”
“Was I aware that two young girls were stealing into my bathing chambers and using my tub? Yes, Iona. A man might notice those things.”
She stares at me with a mix of a smile and a look of disbelief.
“How could you tell?”
I chuckle deeply, reaching across the table, plucking a piece of roasted carrot from her plate, and popping it into my mouth.
“Perfume spritzed in the air? Skin cream left by my basin?” I arch a brow. “Undergarments left on the floor pushed behind the door?”
Iona blushes fiercely. “I’m sure that was Cat, not I.”
“Of course, it was,” I say dryly, grinning at her.
“Well, Darcy must have loved using it.”
I frown. For one, because the mention of that witch’s name while I’m enjoying Iona’s company sours the mood. But for two… does she truly not know?
“You… you’re aware that Darcy and I kept separate quarters, aren’t you?”
Iona looks down at her food, chewing slowly as she shrugs. “Sure, but, not all the time, right?”
I snort. “All the time.”
She looks up, brow arched. “Okay most of the time, but surely not—”
“All the time,” I repeat again, my voice even. “We never once shared quarters, nor a bathing chamber.”
Iona swallows, running her teeth over her bottom lip.
“But, as man and wife, you…” she frowns, making a face a she shakes her pretty heat. “Forgive me, that’s none of my—”
“It is, though.”
She shakes her head again. “My lord, I truly don’t need to know about—”
“Darcy and I never shared a bed, Iona.”
Her eyes snap to mine, a pink flooding into her cheeks.
“What?”
I shrug, shaking my head as I sit back in my chair. “Not once. And believe me, nor was there ever the desire.”
Her brow furrows as she shakes her head once more. “My lord, I don’t want to hear about—”
“Yes, you do.”
The room goes quiet, and she sets her fork down, her hands knitting together on the table in front of her.
“And you should know,” I growl. “I don’t mean for our marriage—”
She blushes furiously.
“Our marriage,” I continue. “Should not and will not be tainted or marred with the past. Iona, it’s how I was able to have the marriage annulled entirely. We never once consummated it, and I am quite okay with that.”
She looks down, her lip caught in her teeth again. But it’s not enough.
…It’s not enough to hide the small smile that crosses her sweet mouth from my eyes.
“And you?” I grin, though inside a storm brews as I consider the possible answer.
“What about me?” She says quietly.
“You in Paris, with all those pretty French boys,” I growl.
Her face goes red, her eyes going wide as she realizes what I’m asking.
“No!”
The word squeaks out, and she only blushes deeper as she shakes her head and forces a lighter smile to her face.
“No, my lord,” she mumbles, cheeks blushing. “I—never.”
She looks up and when our eyes meet, there’s a flame that sparks between us.
“Never,” Iona says quietly. “Because…” she shakes her head, looking away.
“Tell me,” I growl.
She smiles through tight lips, her eyes shining as she looks back at me.
“Because back here…” she groans, bright red as she buries her face in her hands.
I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.
“Ahh, some boy back here, aye?”
She swallows, still blushing as her eyes dart to mine quickly before they look away.
“I—no.”
She’s quiet, and when she chances another look at me, I hold her gaze with mine, and I watch her squirm slightly.
“Not a boy, my lord,” she says quietly. So, so quietly.
My pulse thunders, a heat blazing into my eyes as our gazes lock. I don’t know what exactly changes, but something does. The air in the room gets a little warmer, and thicker. The walls seem to get closer. The sweet floral scent of her skin permeates my senses, and my eyes follow the soft curve of her lips, to her jaw, to her neck, and the thudding pulse there in the shallow of it.
“Not a boy,” I growl.
She swallows, shaking her head.
“There’s a man, my lord,” she all but whispers, her eyes locked on mine, full of heat as her bottom lip trembles.
I hold back the groan in my throat, saying nothing. Hardly daring to move.
Iona’s bosom rises and falls heavily with her breath, and she blinks quickly as she holds my fierce gaze.
“One I couldn’t ever get out of my head, my lord,” she says quietly. �
�One I’ve never been able to get out of my head.”
And suddenly, like she’s taken a sip of courage from the gods themselves, her hand slides across the table. I growl, pulling mine back as the sudden reality of what I’m even doing here in her room hits me. My eyes are fierce as I look up into hers, my jaw tight and grinding.
“Careful, lass,” I growl quietly.
Iona swallows, heat blooming through her face.
“I—I don’t want to be careful,” she whispers. “You asked me to marry you, my lord. And earlier, in the bath—”
“I asked you for a political reason,” I rumble out, fire blazing in my veins as I hold her eyes with mine. “You know that, Iona. Whatever else you may think—”
She shakes her head, her breath coming fast and shallow.
“Just for political reasons? That’s all?”
My jaw hardens, my mouth a tight line. And suddenly, the boldness just floods out of her, and Iona deflates a little as her eyes drop to the table.
“I—I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t even know what I’m saying.” She frowns, looking down as she shakes her head. “I think I’m just tired and trying to figure out…” she shrugs. “The marriage, all of it.”
I nod, my pulse still thundering in my ears.
“I—you don’t have to sit with me,” she says quietly in a way that twists my heart and breaks it slightly. “You can go,” she whispers in my continued silence.
I take a breath and stand, taking two steps towards the door before I pause and turn back to her.
“Iona,” I growl quietly.
She looks up, sadness still in her eyes even as she smiles.
“Put those thoughts out of your head, lass,” I say lowly, my gaze burning into her.
“My lord, I—”
“Like I have.”
Time stops as the words leave my mouth. She shivers, and instantly, I know I’ve crossed the line. Like the unexplainable moment earlier where I could just tell that something had shifted in the air, this time too, I just know. We’ve stepped over a line, crossed through a doorway. And instantly, when our eyes lock and the fire burns hot behind both hers and mine, I know there’s no going back.
“My lord…”
Iona stands, swallowing, smoothing her dress down as she bites her lip and looks up at me. She takes a step towards me—moving like she’s floating to me, and I can feel the fire igniting through me. My muscles clenched, my pulse quickens, and gods help me, my cock begins to thicken and harden beneath my kilt.
“Damnit, Iona,” I growl, an edge of warning in my voice. She takes another step towards me, and this time, both my hands dart to her wrists, gripping them firmly, like I can’t decide if I’m trying to push her away or yank her against me.
“This isn’t right, Iona,” I hiss, the world blurring around me until all I see is her. “You’re far too young.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” she whispers heatedly, swallowing, her face glowing pink and her eyes roaring with fire.
“Trust that I’ve noticed,” I growl back.
Iona’s tongue darts out, wetting her lips as she takes a shaky breath.
“I’m nineteen, you know.”
I bark out a brittle laugh. “Aye, a woman are you then, eh?”
“Yes.” I can feel her damned pulse beating beneath my fingers in the soft skin of her wrists, and my cock just grows harder, and my desire becomes all consuming.
“You don’t see me as one?” she asks gently, almost nervously.
“I…”
I close my eyes, gritting my teeth, but already knowing I’m going to break.
“I can’t,” I groan softly.
“Why not?”
“You know why not.”
She’s quiet a second, and when I slowly open my eyes, she’s looking down at the floor, her brow knitted.
“I—I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “I—I feel so foolish, this was… I don’t know what I was thinking. I know it’s for political reasons. I know it’s not because you want me—”
“Is that what you believe?” I groan. My grip tightens on her wrists, hard enough to make her gasp. The war is still raging in my head—push her away, draw her close. Push her away, draw her close.
But when she looks up, and those big blue eyes lock with mine, and when I see those sensual, womanly lips part ever so slightly as her tongue wets them, I know I’m finished. I know right then that even if I am a Lord, and a ruler, and a good man as best as I can be, I’m still but a man.
…And a man can only resist a temptation like her for so long before he breaks.
“You think I don’t want you,” I growl. I pull, tugging her closer. The war is lost.
Iona gasps quietly, her breath coming quickly. I reach up with one hand, the knuckles brushing her chin and tilting her head up as the roar of desire becomes thunder in my ears.
“You think I don’t want you?” I groan.
“My lord, I—”
“You’re all that I fucking want,” I hiss. And just like that, the final brick tumbles, and the wall I’ve tried so hard to build to hold back what I feel for her comes crashing down.
And I break.
I pull, and she falls right into me, gasping as her hands land on my firm chest, my fingers on her chin slide to her jaw, cupping it gently but possessively, savoring this one moment before the drop.
“You, lass,” I growl quietly. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My lips crush to hers, stealing the breath from her lungs and searing my words against her soul as I kiss her with every single drop of the passion and fire I’ve bottled up.
And then, I just keep on kissing her.
Hard.
Chapter 6
Iona
He kisses me, and the moment his lips touch mine, it’s like the whole world explodes. Kissing him unleashes everything. It’s like years of buildup, and silly fantasies, and gasping late-night dreams come pouring out as I kiss him back with everything I have inside of me. It’s like the lock on the door I’ve kept shut for ages finally giving under the weight of my desires that I’ve kept bottled up inside.
Lachlan growls into me, making me whimper and shiver as he positively claims my mouth, kissing me fiercely like a starving man. I gasp as he pushes me back, both of us stumbling until my back hits the wall, and his big, hard body crushes against mine, pinning me there as his mouth devours mine.
His hands slide from my wrists all the way up my arms until they drift onto my body. I tremble, moaning into the kiss and losing my mind as his big hands tease down my torso, his fingers running over every bump and curve until they settle on my waist. God, I’m so small compared to him, and he’s so big and those hands are so big that they practically touch as they encircle me.
I whimper louder, an urge for more, and Lachlan reads it like an open book. His tongue dances with mine, his deep, masculine growls sending shivers of heat through my body and making my toes curl. One of his hands drifts lower and behind me, and when I feel him cup my ass through my skirts and grip it tight, I moan into the kiss.
Lachlan grinds against me—nothing held back, and nothing restrained, like he’s an animal broken free of its pen, and God help me, it’s everything I want. His hands yank at my skirts, pulling them high up my legs as he spreads them with his thigh. I moan eagerly, rolling my hips against him and absolutely drowning in this moment as I kiss him fiercely.
“My lord—”
It’s a cry for more, but Lachlan freezes before suddenly, he pulls back. My brow caves, and I try and pull him back to my lips, but he resists, a look of conflict on his face.
“We should stop,” he groans, though his hands stay where they are on me.
“I don’t think we should,” I whisper back, my fingers sliding over his tunic and gripping it tightly.
“This is wrong, Iona.”
“Then why do you feel so right?” I whimper.
Lachlan growls, and suddenly, he’s on me again making
me moan as his mouth claims mine all over again. I gasp as his lips slide lower, kissing my jawline as his hands grab my waist again. I cry out as he moves lower to the sensitive skin of my neck—biting and licking as I undulate against him, wanting more.
Needing more.
The wicked, sinful heat between my thighs pulses and throbs, and as Lachlan grinds against me and spreads my legs with his, I moan as I suddenly feel it.
Him.
All of him.
And when I do feel that thick, throbbing, hard part of him pressing against me through my skirt and his kilt, it’s like the fire inside of me roars even louder and fiercer. Because for the first time, I’m feeling a man pressed against me—every part of him.
He grinds against me as he kisses my neck, his, what feels like a very big cock—though I’ve nothing to compare it to—throbbing right against my pussy, and driving me wild. His lips trail lower, nipping and sucking at the swell of my breasts, before suddenly, Lachlan drops to his knees.
I gasp, my pulse racing as his hands slide up my legs, pushing my skirt up again with them as my whole world spins around me.
“Lachlan—”
He keeps pushing though, bunching my skirt up higher and higher, until he gets to the thin, small underskirt covering me. His eyes drag up to mine, and he holds my gaze as his hands slip up under my skirts to grip the edge of my underskirt. He tugs, peeling it down and off of me beneath my skirt, until it drops to my knees. And slowly, his hands being to slide up my legs again, pushing my skirt up with them.
And this time, he’s going to see all of me.
His big hands shove my skirts up high to my waist, and when the air hits my bare pussy, I blush furiously. But Lachlan just holds my gaze, his face inches away from the heat between my thighs but looking right into my eyes. His jaw tightens, the fire roars in his face, and I can almost see him trembling, like he’s trying to hold back as long as he possibly can before seeing all of me. Like he’s trying to savor the moment.
And then finally, he cracks, and his eyes drop right to my pussy.
…And he growls.
It’s a savage, primal, fierce growl too, and I swear I somehow become even wetter for him. I gasp quietly, my little cunt pulsing with need and desire as I feel his hot breath on my bare thighs.
