Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens (8 page)

“Would ye please tell me
why
ye’re in such a hurry to find the priest?”

Judging from his perplexed expression and raised brow, he thought it a most daft question. “To marry us.”

She had expected as much, but considering how angry he seemed, she thought it best to ask for clarification. “And ye mean to do that now? With ye half naked and no boots? And besides, ye have no’ even asked fer me hand yet!”

“Of course I have!” he exclaimed.

“Nay,” she said, giving a slow and thoughtful shake of her head. “Ye broke our troth, remember? And now ye’re draggin’ me to find a priest. Do no’ look at me as if I’ve lost me mind, Ian. Ye be the one who keeps changin’
his
!”

Cocking his head to one side, he asked, “Do ye wish to marry me or no’?”

She took a deep, cleansing breath before answering. “That depends.”

His scowl increased, forming tight lines around his eyes. “Depends on what?”

“Do ye plan on always bein’ so temperamental? Do ye always plan on changin’ yer mind as quickly as the weather?” Considering the events of the last few weeks, she thought it a most reasonable inquiry. “Besides, ye’ve yet to ask me proper.”

It was not her intent to vex him or instigate another argument betwixt them. However, she thought it important to set matters straight before they reached the priest.

“Again, I ask ye, do ye wish to marry me?” The slight tic in his jaw increased in time with the beating of her heart.

“Will ye always be this temperamental? Will ye always be this pig-headed and obstinate?”

“Aye, I will,” he replied. “Because I fear
ye
will vex me to the point of madness each and every day of our lives. But I find I love ye enough to live with that flaw.”

’Twas her turn to be angry. “Flaw?” she asked with much exasperation. “If ye find me so flawed, why are ye in such a hurry to marry?”

“Because for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, I love ye. When ye’re no’ vexin’ me to the point of madness, I find ye sweet, bonny, and generous. Ye have the ability to amuse me
while
ye’re vexin’ me. And I do no’ wish to spend the rest of me days without ye, wonderin’ what might have been betwixt us.”

Tears flooded her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. ’Twas most refreshing to hear him say those sweet words while sober. With the sleeve of her dress, she swiped away her tears and smiled up at him. “Ye vex me as well, ye handsome lummox.”

A broad, much relieved smile formed on his lips, making his eyes twinkle in the sunlight. “So ye’ll marry me then?”

“Aye,” she replied with a sniffle. “I’ll marry ye on one condition.”

His smile faded. “What condition?”

“Ye will at least put on yer boots?”

“
W
hat about the banns
?” Father MacBrodie asked, aghast at the notion of marrying anyone without following proper procedure. They were standing in the courtyard, he and Ian and Rose. Ian was determined to marry Rose immediately. Father MacBrodie was just as determined to see that rules were followed according to the law.

Appearing as round as he was short, he had to lean his head back in order to look into Ian’s eyes. Though he was as pious as the day was long, he was not afraid of putting a Mackintosh in their place when the occasion called for it.

“We do no’ need banns posted,” Ian assured him. “I have me family’s blessin’.”

Father MacBrodie cast a glance at Rose. “What about
her
family?”

Rose smiled thoughtfully. “The Macktinoshes
are
me family.”

The older man eyed her suspiciously, staring into her eyes as if he could sense a lie from a thousand paces.

Her smile faded. “Both me parents be dead, ye ken. I’ve no brothers nor sisters, save fer Aggie. Though we share no blood, we share a bond just the same.”

Unimpressed, the priest asked, “How long have ye known this man?”

“More than a year now,” Rose answered. She was growing more and more uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

“Are ye aware of his reputation, lass?” he asked before turning to stare Ian down. “As a scoundrel? A man who has no compunction in ruinin’ an innocent lass’s reputation? As a womanizer of near biblical proportions?”

He may have meant it as an insult, or a simple statement of fact. Ian took it as a compliment and smiled proudly. A deep blush came to Rose’s cheeks. Aye, she was well aware of Ian’s past, but she was confident he would no longer chase women after they were married. “I ken what he was, Father.”

“Are ye no’ worried he’ll break yer heart, lass?”

Smiling cheekily, she said, “Nay, fer he kens I’ll kill him while he sleeps if he even thinks to.”

Somewhat satisfied with her answer, he offered the closest thing to a smile he ever volunteered. Then he glared at Ian, “Be there a reason why ye’re in such a hurry? Have ye by chance already endangered this young woman’s soul by taking her to yer bed outside the bonds of marriage?”

Ian’s lips curved into a devilish grin as he leaned in to whisper into Father MacBrodie’s ear. “Nay yet. But married or no, I intend to take her to me bed before this day is out.” He righted himself before adding, “Ye can either marry us this day, or ye will be the one to blame if her soul is endangered.”

* * *

A
fter they exchanged their vows
, a loud cheer exploded from the crowd.

There had been no time to prepare a celebratory feast, for which Ian was ecstatically grateful. He’d been waiting for more than a year to take Rose to his bed. They could observe their union with the clan on the morrow. But for now, for tonight, he wanted her all to himself.

Scooping her into his arms, he carried her into the keep and above stairs to his — nay, ’twas their’s now — chamber. Pausing at the door, he offered her a tender kiss and his most devilish smile.

“Ye seem to be in a hurry,” Rose teased.

Laughing, he pushed open the door with his booted foot and carried her inside. “I’ve been waitin’ a very long time fer this night.”

“And ye be certain ye ken what ye’re doin’?” she asked playfully.

Shutting the door with his foot, he carried her to the bed, and in a frolicsome fashion, he tossed her onto it. “I think I have the way of it,” he said as he began shedding his clothes.

Rose, no naive lass, happily watched as he removed first his plaid, then his boots, which were quickly followed by his tunic and trews. What sprouted forth surprised her. Not only was he more than amply endowed, the endowment appeared quite ready, willing and able to bestow itself upon her.

Past experience — though she knew ’twas not nearly as much as Ian possessed — told her that she should probably hurry and remove her clothing before ’twas too late. Many times, her late husband had found his own release before she had a chance to warm to the idea. Mercifully he had explained ’twas an affliction all men suffered from, especially when loving a woman as beautiful as she. Rose could not begin to fault Almer, for he was such a dear, sweet man.

Quickly, she began to unlace her dress whilst she pulled her woolens off with her toes.

“Wait,” Ian said as he climbed onto the foot of the bed like a wolf about to devour its prey. His blue eyes were dark with a smoldering desire that nearly stole her breath away.

He lay beside her and hooked one finger under the laces. “I’ve been dreamin’ of slowly relievin’ ye of yer clothes fer an age, wife.” Ever so slowly, he tugged at the lace, slowly, methodically pulling it free from the first grommet. “Though I must admit there were many a time where I could have simply lifted yer skirts and taken ye in an instant.” He looped his finger around the lace again and tugged ever so slowly. “But tonight? Tonight I wish us to take our time.”

She too had been thinking of this moment for an age. Almer’s words echoed in her mind…
Ye’re too beautiful, Rose, and that be why at times I can no’ hold onto me seed fer more than a few heartbeats and leave ye behind.
Determined not to be left behind
this
day, she felt it necessary to voice her worry. “Are ye certain?”

“Certain of what?” he asked, as he pulled the lacing through another grommet, paying no real attention to what she was asking.

How does one broach this subject without insultin’ a man’s pride?
She hadn’t a clue. Being blunt and honest had served her well over the years and she prayed it would serve her now.

“Ye ken I be no’ an innocent lass who does no’ ken the way of lovin’,” she began.

Ian’s finger paused for a brief moment. “I ken ye have been married,” he replied rather abruptly. This was his wedding day and he would prefer that Rose not bring up any old memories of past lovers. She was his now and that was all that mattered.

Clearing her throat once, she pushed forward, broaching what she knew would be a difficult topic. “I ken there be times when a man can no’ hold himself back. He can get far too excited far too quickly.”

With his brow furrowed, he finally turned his attention to her face.

“I want ye to ken that I understand that. However, I also need ye to understand I’d prefer no’ to be left behind. This be
me
weddin’ day and I, too, have been lookin’ forward to it for a verra long while now.”

From the expression on his face, she could see he was confused.

“I was married once before, Ian,” she told him. She felt her face grow warm with embarrassment, but refused to back away from the topic. “I would like to ken aforehand, well, I be wonderin’, when ye, well, I—” Pausing for a moment, searching for the right words, she began to feel less confident. Especially when he was looking at her with such a confused expression. “If ye finish before me, how long do ye think ’twill be before ye can do it again?”

Understanding settled in quickly and his eyes grew wide with a blend of horror and insult. “Are ye inferrin’ that I’ll find me own pleasure before ye find yers?” He found the thought repulsive.

“Ye need no’ shout at me, Ian,” she told him. “I
was
married afore ye. And Almer explained the way of it to me and I’ll no’ fault ye fer somethin’ all men are afflicted with.”

He shook his head once, as if it would help him gain some clarity.
Affliction? Fault?
Not wanting to argue with his beautiful wife on their wedding day, he decided to practice some patience and not jump to any conclusions. “Please, pray tell, me love, what exactly did Almer explain to ye? To what
affliction
are ye referrin’?”

She did not for a moment believe he was as calm as he was trying to appear. Male pride, especially when it came to matters of loving, was not something any woman wanted to injure or insult. But he was at least making the attempt to have a civil conversation, so that had to count for something. “There were many times when Almer found his own pleasure before I was even under the covers. He explained ’twas an affliction that most men suffer from. He was very kind about it, ye ken, in helpin’ me to understand ’twas because he found me so beautiful that sometimes all he had to do was look at me and …” she let her words trail off to give Ian a moment to mull it over. “Now while I understood it and could no’ rightly blame him, ye see, I was still often left wantin’ a wee bit more if ye get me meanin’. Verra often afterwards, he would say ‘
let me catch me breath lass and we’ll try again’.
But then he’d fall asleep and ‘twould be days before we
tried again
.”

It took every ounce of strength and kindness he owned not to break down and laugh his fool head off. He knew that Rose had been all of fifteen when she married the much older Almer Gray. In truth, there had been a few times over the past year where Ian himself could very well have spilled his own seed just by looking at her. However, he was neither a young lad nor an auld man. Never in all his years had he ever left a woman
wantin’ a wee bit more.

Not wanting to impugn her dead husband or tarnish the fond memories he knew she held for the man, Ian took a far more tactful approach. “As ye said, no’ all men suffer from that affliction,” he pointed out as he turned his attention back to the leather laces that stood between him and paradise. “I be no’ one of them. I can promise ye, that ye’ll
never
be left wantin’ a wee bit more.”

Rose quirked a brow and studied him for a moment. “Ye sound quite sure of yerself.”

“I am,” he said as he pulled the lace through the last grommet. “And I’ll be more than happy to prove it to ye.”

* * *

I
ntently
, Ian slipped his hand through the opening of her dress, brushing his palm over her chemise and the taught peak of her breast. At which Rose sucked in a deep breath that in turn made him smile. Slowly, ever so slowly, he continued the sweet ministration as he stared at her face. She had closed her eyes, her lips formed a sensual, pouty ‘o’ as she lay on her back with her arms at her sides. When he ran the pad of his thumb over the bud, she arched her back and sucked in another deep breath.

Pressing his lips to her neck, nibbling the tender spot, he turned his attention to her other breast, showing it just as much attention as the first. When Rose tried to sit up, he tossed one leg over hers. “Wheest, wife. I am enjoyin’ meself.”

Short of breath, as if she’d just run across the entirety of Scotland, she said, “Let me get out of me dress.”

“No’ yet,” he whispered against her neck.

Slowly, he moved his hand down her stomach before returning to her plump breasts. All the while, he trailed kisses from her ear to that very soft and tender spot at the base of her throat.

While she could certainly appreciate his attempts at
warming her
to the idea of joining, she would have much preferred to be done with the warming part and get straight to the joining part. All thoughts of hurrying, however, fell to the wayside when he took her breast into his mouth.

Had Almer ever paid such attention to her breasts? Nay, she was quite certain he hadn’t, at least not in the manner in which Ian was. Wickedly, he licked and twirled and flicked his tongue across the peak wondrously. Her stomach felt warm, her legs as sturdy as water, all the while her heart pounded against her chest.

With her attention focused on what he was doing to her breast, she hadn’t realized he had taken his leg away from hers, allowing his free hand to make it’s way under her dress and chemise until she felt his fingertips caress her inner thigh as softly as a butterfly against her cheek. Tenderly, he drew his fingers up and down her thigh, all the while he suckled at her breast.

’Twas torture, to be certain. But wickedly delightful torture.

He found the nub at the apex of her legs and ’twas all she could do not to fly from the bed. Nay, Almer had never done
that.

Ian chuckled against her skin and whispered something. She couldn’t hear him over the pounding of her heart or her own heavy breathing. Filled with that all too familiar aching need, she was soon begging him not to stop.