Margaret Mallory - The Guardian

What was he doing sleeping in a cold bed every night—next to Alex, for God’s sake. Sìleas was his wife, wasn’t she? She was sleeping in his room—in his bed, no less.

They’d said vows before a priest. Surely that meant something? True, he’d been ready to give Sìleas up, but that was before he’d returned to find her all grown up.

Lord help him, Sìleas had grown up fine.

He thought of her full breasts, the mesmerizing swish of her skirts as she climbed the stairs, the sparkle in her green eyes, the creamy skin that showed at her throat above her gown.

His cup was empty, so he took a long pull straight from the jug.

He wanted to see more of that creamy skin. To smell it. To run his tongue over every inch of it. And there was no reason he shouldn’t. Sìleas belonged to him. The church had joined them.

Damn it, he shouldn’t have hesitated. That was where the problem lay. All he needed to do now was show her he wanted to be a husband to her.

But was he ready to give up other women? Was he ready to say she would be the last woman he bedded? He thought about it for a moment.

Hell, yes.

He would show her just how much he wanted her. Sìl was a fiery thing, always was. She’d be everything he wanted in bed, he knew it without a doubt. And he’d be everything she wanted. She damned well wouldn’t look twice at that Gòrdan Graumach again.

He slammed his cup down on the table. It was time. His decision was made. By God, he was ready to commit himself.

It was going to be a night to remember.

CHAPTER 9

Ian took off his boots and stepped quietly up the stairs. No need to let the entire household know his intentions. He lifted the latch to Sìleas’s bedchamber door— their bedchamber door—and slipped inside. Blackness enveloped him as he eased the door shut behind him.

He felt for the bar and slid it across. He wanted no early-morning interruptions. Someone else would have to do the morning chores; he intended to keep Sìleas in bed late. Perhaps they wouldn’t get up at all tomorrow.

He stood near the door, every muscle taunt with anticipation, and waited for his eyes to adjust. His cock was painfully hard already. In the stillness, he heard her breathing, soft as sighs.

Gradually, he could make out her form on the bed. She lay on her back, with one arm flung up, framing her head on the pillow. He swallowed. He would carry this image of her from their first night together with him for the rest of his life. A wave of tenderness swelled in his chest. This woman was his to protect. His wife.

He was ready for the responsibility.

His throbbing cock reminded him he was more than ready for the pleasure. His breathing came in short, shallow breaths as he stepped to the edge of the bed.

Lying with her would not be like lying with other women. This was his wife. This was Sìleas.

The muscles of his stomach were tight, and his throat dry. He couldn’t wait to touch her. To remove her nightshift and run his hands over that creamy white skin for the first time. To sink his fingers into her mass of red hair as he kissed and caressed her.

They would be naked. Aye, definitely naked. Skin to skin, with the smell of heather in his nose.

He unwound his plaid and pulled his shirt over his head, letting them both drop to the floor at his feet. She gave a sigh as he lifted the covers and slipped beneath the blankets. With his heart thundering in his ears, he reached for her.

He caught the edge of her nightshift, the cloth stiff beneath his fingertips, as she rolled away from him with another sigh. He moved closer and rested his hand on the curve of her waist.

Lust roared through him like a wild beast. For God’s sake, she was a virgin. He told himself he must go slowly, but it was not going to be easy.

He pulled her against him and bit his lip against the surge of desire that swamped his senses and tested his will. He made himself take in slow, deep breaths. He meant to savor every part of this first time: holding his wife in bed, the smell of her hair in his face, the warmth of her body next to his.

He pushed her heavy hair to the side and kissed her neck.

“Mmmmm.” The sound came from deep in her throat.

He smiled against her skin as he breathed her in. He thought he might have to persuade her, but she had been waiting for him to come to her.

“Sìl,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m going to take your nightshift off now.”

When he nuzzled her neck, she made that low “Mmmmm” sound again, which set a fire deep in his belly. Then the breath went out of him in a rush as she pressed against him, making his cock throb against the crevice between her buttocks.

He worked her nightshift up, anticipating the feel of bare skin. Slowly, he eased it over her hip— ahhhh. Her skin was even softer than he imagined. One more tug on the shift and his shaft rested against her bare buttocks.

“Ye can’t know how good that feels,” he said in a choked whisper. So good, he nearly bit her shoulder. But this was going better than he expected, and he didn’t want to frighten her. So he kissed her shoulder softly, instead, and forced himself not to move against her. She drew in a deep breath that sounded so contented he wondered if he was worrying too much.

He wished he had lit a candle. He wanted to see her, but nothing could get him out of this bed now. It was pleasurable torture to run his hand slowly up and down the curve of her hip. Of its own volition, his hand moved to cup her breast.

Oh Jesu! The heavy softness of her full breast felt glorious in his hand. The nipple hardened and pressed against his palm—and he was a lost man. Blood pounded in his ears. His hunger was urgent, demanding. Now. He needed her under him now.

His resolution to go slow was a lost ship in the raging storm of his lust. All he wanted in this world was to be buried inside her. In an instant, he had her on her back. His hands were on her breasts under her nightgown, and his cock pressed against the inside of her thigh while he kissed her throat.

“Ian! What are ye doing?”

Ach, what was he doing? He dragged himself back from the edge. A virgin. She’s a virgin.

A virgin shouldn’t feel this good beneath him. He took her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. Her kiss was so innocent, it shook him.

“Aw, Sìl, ye are a wonder to me,” he said.

He ran his tongue across her bottom lip and heard her draw in her breath. At first she seemed to resist his kisses, but gradually she softened. When he urged her mouth open, she jerked back, startled, but in another moment she softened for him again. When her tongue moved against his he saw a glimpse of the heaven to come. Soon he was drowning in her kisses.

It was all perfect. She was perfect.

He clutched his hands in her hair.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll be careful. It won’t hurt much,” he whispered in her ear as he inched forward. He gasped when the head of his cock found its goal and touched her sweet center.

“Get off me!” Sìleas shouted, and started pounding her fists against his shoulders and chest.

“What? What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer, but she was clawing at him and squirming like a fish, so he rolled off her. “Sìl, what did I do?”

She threw off the covers and leaped out of the bed. He caught a glimpse of long legs in the moonlight from the window before she jerked her shift down.

She lit the candle and turned furious eyes on him. “What are ye doing in my bed, Ian MacDonald?”

“It’s my bed, too,” he said, trying to get his brain to work. His cock was so hard it hurt him. He had been so close…

“How dare ye come in here when I’m fast asleep and think ye can have your way with me.”