Highland Intrigue (Duncurra Book Book 3) (16 page)

Bodie’s ears perked a moment before she heard the sound of the chamber door opening. Fingal stepped in quietly. She sat up and pulled Bodie onto her lap. “Nay, lass, stay resting. I didn’t mean to wake ye. I heard ye still weren’t feeling well and I just wanted to check on ye.”

“Ye didn’t wake me. I’m fine.”

Fingal crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her. “Does yer head still ache?”

“Ever so slightly, but it is much better.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was worried.”

“I almost never get headaches. I’m sure it was just from the smoke last night.”

“Aye, probably.”

His expression held nothing but genuine concern for her and once again she was struck by how kind and considerate he was to her, even in the face of her obstinacy. She also allowed herself to enjoy how very handsome he was. She reached out to caress the strong line of his jaw, the shadow of his beard coarse against her fingers. Before she knew what she was doing she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, but she poured her heart into it. When she pulled away he looked befuddled by her boldness. Perhaps this is what she looked like to him when he kissed her, and all conscious thought fled. She felt a little surge of feminine power and grinned. Apparently two could play this game.

“Thank ye, Fingal.”

He continued to look confused. “For what?”

She laughed. “Do I need to list everything? For being so very considerate of me, for working so hard to care for this clan, for saving my life, but most of all for this wee beast.” She scratched behind Bodie’s ears.

“I’m glad ye like him.”

“I adore him.” She leaned forward and kissed her husband again. Before he recovered from his surprise she climbed off the bed and smiled sweetly. “It is probably time for the evening meal. Shall we go down?”

Gillian decided she would proceed cautiously. The Easter Triduum was upon them so she focused on the reverent holy days. Besides, she had been so rigid and unyielding that she wanted him to know it was not vulnerability she felt, but rather rising affection. After the feast of Easter, she put her whole heart into convincing Fingal of this. Although she wasn’t quite sure how to do this, over the next few days she tried the same things on him which had left her feeling so unbalanced. She focused her attention on him, touched him casually, inclined her head and spoke softly to him during meals—forcing him to lean close and listen. Although initially her changed attitude seemed to confuse him, he recovered quickly and restarted his own efforts to charm her in return.

She was stunned to realize they were actively wooing each other. For several days the friendly banter and casual show of affection continued, culminating each evening in a chaste good-night kiss before they slept. Each morning they woke in each other’s arms but started their day as they had for weeks now, with nothing more than a friendly “Good morning.”

Initially Gillian found this more than pleasant. She began to welcome the fluttering in her stomach that these interactions stirred. However, after a few days, the fluttering became more of a gnawing need. She wanted more from him; she
needed
something more, but didn’t quite know what it was. Their bedchamber had finally been completely put to rights and they were going to sleep in it again that night. In a way it was a new beginning, so she promised herself she would become his wife in every way.

She wasn’t quite sure what she should do. The whole clan thought they were fully married well over a month ago. She had even suggested to her mother that she might already be carrying a child so she couldn’t very well ask her. Well, Jeanne had guessed the truth but she had also already told Gillian:
It is the simplest thing in the world; just let it happen
.

When they retired to their chamber that evening, Fingal started to remove his belt and plaid as he usually did. Bodie had already curled up to sleep by the hearth as had become his habit.

Gillian unfastened her brooch and belt, removing her plaid. “Do ye mind if we don’t play chess tonight?”

“Nay, of course not. I am a bit tired myself.”

She pulled the kertch from her head, releasing the thick silky mass of hair over her shoulders. “Fingal, could ye help me a moment. I am having trouble untying the ribbons of my
léine
.” She turned her back and lifted her hair out of the way.

“Certainly, my love.” She felt his long warm fingers on the back of her neck as he worked to untie the fastenings. “There ye are.”

Before he removed his hands from her, she turned and slipped her arms around his neck. “Thank ye,” she whispered. Heat smoldered in his eyes. She gave him a quick kiss. With her hands still around his neck she grinned slyly. “I’ll untie yers for ye.”

He grinned back. “Will ye now?” He stroked her back gently as she released the laces of his
léine
. When she was finished he leaned down and kissed her. His kiss was slower and deeper than hers had been. She opened her mouth to him and he explored it greedily. She was breathless by the time he broke the kiss. “Thank ye,” he whispered, just as she had.

She looked into his beautiful green eyes and was lost. “Fingal, I...”

“Gillian, I won’t push ye. I made ye a promise. I said I would wait until ye were ready—until ye asked me to be yer husband.”

Dear God, Gillian wanted this kind, beautiful man to love her. “I know ye did, and now I’m ready. I’m asking. Fingal, please, make me yer wife.”

~ * ~

Fingal knew exactly when it had happened. He knew the moment the tide had turned. It was the evening she had kissed him, thanking him for giving Bodie to her. At that moment she shifted from prey to predator and after he recovered from the shock, it had delighted him. The interplay between them had become increasingly sensual as the days passed and yet every evening, she kissed him chastely and went to sleep beside him. It was becoming almost more than he could bear and he ached with need for her. Still, he had made her a promise and he would not push her.

When she asked him to untie her
léine
he thought it might kill him. The idea of touching her, helping her undress and then turning his back and going to sleep was agonizing. Now she stood with her arms wrapped around him, asking him to make love to her. “Oh, Gillian, lass, I want nothing more.”

He covered her lips with his own, kissing her deeply. She returned his kiss, hesitantly at first but responding more ardently at his coaxing. He pushed the
léine
off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He inched her shift up as he kissed her, breaking the kiss to pull it over her head. He dropped the garment and captured her gaze. She stood before him, her tall willowy frame cloaked only in her silky brown hair, and he soaked in her beauty. She blushed under his gaze and looked away but he cupped her cheek, turning her face back to look at him. “Gillian, ye are magnificent and ye take my breath away.” He kissed her again. She gave a little squeak of surprise and giggled when he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He pulled his own
léine
off, eliciting a shy smile from his beautiful bride, before joining her on the bed.

Gillian was tall for a woman and Fingal thought she had the longest, most beautiful legs he had ever seen. He leaned in to kiss her again, allowing his hands to travel down her body, feeling her slim taut waist and the firm muscles of her thighs. On the upward journey he caressed her soft round breasts, her nipples hardening under his touch. She arched against him and the soft moan that escaped her lips told him she enjoyed his caresses.

Emboldened, Gillian began her own exploration of his body. Her hands, as long and slender as the rest of her, roamed over his chest and shoulders. Although tentative and feather-light at first, her touch enflamed his passion. She slipped her hands down his sides and across his belly, brushing the crisp hair that led to his groin. He moaned and grabbed her hands. “Ah, Gillian, my love, I can’t bear it.”

She stilled. “I-I-I’m sorry, Fingal. I didn’t mean to...” She looked embarrassed.

He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Nay, sweetling, ye have done nothing wrong. It is only—I have desired ye for so long and yer touch is heavenly, too wonderful. I need to go slowly for ye tonight, love.” With her hands in his, he captured her lips again, before trailing kisses down the slender column of her throat. With aching slowness, he eventually reached his goal, her full creamy breasts. He enclosed one pert nipple in his mouth and suckled, gently teasing with his tongue. He released her hands, cupping the other breast, massaging it lightly before sliding his hand over her silky belly to the dark curls at the apex of her legs. She stiffened at his intimate touch.

He moved his mouth back to her lips and kissed her, hoping to calm her, but she remained still and tense. “Gillian, my beautiful lass, tell me what troubles ye?”

“N-n-nothing.”

He raised up on an elbow and searched her face. “Yer beautiful, responsive body tells me otherwise. Please, lass.”

“I—well I-I’m a little bit afraid.” Her voice trailed to almost a whisper.

“What are ye afraid of?”

“I guess...well...that is, my mother said, well...that it hurts.”

“Has anything I’ve done hurt ye so far?”

“Nay. But we haven’t—we haven’t...”

“Nay, we haven’t. And sometimes, the first time for a lass can hurt a bit. But if we take our time, ye relax and trust me, ye will hardly notice it.” He began kissing and nuzzling her neck.

She giggled and squirmed. “That tickles.”

“Mmm. I know a few other things that tickle too.” Once again he began his sensual assault, kissing and caressing her body. His hands drifting ever lower until he delicately brushed against her womanly curls. She didn’t tense this time so he continued to lightly stroke her. When she arched against his hand, he began circling the sensitive spot just inside with his thumb, pleased when she writhed against his touch. As her pleasure built, he slipped a finger inside. She appeared lost in sensation. He slowed his movements for a moment, watching her.

She arched against his hand. “Fingal...what...ah, Fingal, please...”

“Sweet Gillian, ye are so very beautiful.” He rained kisses over her neck and breasts and continued to stroke her most private spot as he positioned himself over her.

When she panted, arching her head back and beginning to tremble with her release, he slid into her with one firm thrust. He felt her muscles continue to contract, even as she gave a small cry. As much as he craved his own release, he held very still within her, watching as the tremors of her climax swept through her.

~ * ~

Gillian had never felt anything like that in her life. It was exquisite and overwhelming. As he started to caress her she enjoyed his touch. But at some point, those pleasant sensations became a burning need. Fire licked through her veins. Somehow she knew she had to move to quench it, but moving only seemed to fan the flames. Just when she thought she would surely be consumed it was as if something burst inside her and sent waves of pure pleasure through her body. At that moment, at the peak of her release, Fingal entered her. She cried out, but it wasn’t from pain. Aye, there was some discomfort, but it became so melded with the waves of bliss coursing through her she didn’t care.

She became aware of him kissing her and she had a burning need to kiss him back. She took his face in her hands and pulled him to her lips. She kissed him with abandon, threading her fingers through his dark hair and holding him to her. She felt the need to move again and did.

Fingal groaned, “Lass, I don’t want to hurt ye.”

“Ye aren’t hurting me. I need—I need—oh Fingal, I don’t know what I need but lying still isn’t it.”

He groaned again but began to move very slowly. As he moved, she felt the heat growing in her belly once more. She moved with him, rising to meet him, pushing him to move faster. As the fire coursing through her reached fever pitch she trembled as her body was awash with ecstasy yet again.

She was vaguely aware that Fingal too cried out and she felt the warm rush of his seed within her. “Dear God, Gillian…” His voice trailed off. He panted and lowered his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry. I tried to hold back. Ye are just so...please tell me I didn’t hurt ye too badly.”

Gillian too panted. “Hurt me? Nay Fingal, but that wasn’t at all what I expected.”

Fingal laughed and moved to lie beside her, pulling her close to him. “What did ye expect then?”

“Well...I guess...” She looked up at him with a contented smile. “Honestly, I don’t know—but not that. That was...wonderful.”

He fixed his warm green eyes on her and brushed the hair from her face. “Ah well, my bonny bride, I aim to please.”

Under the heat of his gaze, she became self-conscious until she blushed and looked away. “And what about me, did I—did I—please ye?”

He put a finger under her chin, lifting it until he was looking into her eyes. “Aye, Gillian, my love. Ye please me more than ye can know. Never doubt that.” He kissed her. “Now the thing that would please me is for ye to sleep here in my arms, instead of curling up on the opposite side of the bed.”

“Aye, I think I’d like that too.” She snuggled close to him, filled with a more profound sense of warmth and belonging than she ever thought possible.