Oh My Laird!: A Risqué Regency Romance (13 page)

Ian watched Amelia with a combination of nerves and amusement. He had obviously caught her off guard, because her mouth had opened, but not a single word had emerged.

Under other circumstances, he would have chuckled at her stunned expression, but this moment might well define their future together. He couldn’t make light of it, it was too important.

She made an effort to collect herself, drawing in a deep breath as Barclay appeared to bid them welcome.

“Good evening, Sir, Madam. Won’t you come in? I believe there is still a little time before dinner and your rooms have been prepared.”

“Amelia, this is Barclay. He’s been here longer than I have.”

She nodded, an elegant acknowledgement. “Good evening. Thank you for the welcome, Barclay.”

“A pleasure to welcome you to Kilmalochan Keep, my Lady. I understand you have no maid with you, so we shall provide one during your stay.”

“Most thoughtful. And most appreciated.” Amelia smiled.

She had found her feet, realized Ian. The society lady had reasserted herself. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or worried. He reserved judgement. “Come, let’s go and freshen up. I’m hungry.”

She remained silent and followed him up the stairs, saying nothing as they passed the variety of paintings, shields and other assorted decorations that generations of McPhersons had seen fit to hang on their walls.

Kilmalochan Keep had been around for quite a few centuries, but theirs was a family that liked a bit of comfort in their own home. So the massive stone walls had been softened inside, the windows replaced and the fireplaces heated much more efficiently these days. 

It was still not unlike living in a castle, just without the drafts and the freezing cold stone floors.

Ian led her to his rooms, knowing that they would now be ready for him and his wife. Traditionally, when the young Laird wed, he brought his wife home to Kilmalochan. Then she could learn to manage the house from the current Lady, in this case his mother.

“I cannot change for dinner,” said Amelia, walking in behind him and looking around.

“No matter. We shall see to that in time.” He removed his jacket. “I believe you’ll find a dressing room through there.” He nodded at a door on the other side of the room. “We share beds here. It’s warmer.”

He tried a grin, but received a blank look in return. She opened the door, and shut it firmly behind her.

He sighed. He was going to have to work hard on getting her to come around. She would, he was pretty sure. Well, hopeful at least.

He washed and tidied himself, not changing his clothes since he preferred not to add to any embarrassment Amelia might feel.

With his father away, however, dinner was most likely to be informal, so he didn’t give the matter a second thought.

When he judged sufficient time had passed, he tapped lightly on the communicating door. It opened promptly and Amelia stared at him, her face still expressionless. “I’m ready.”

“You’re lovely.” He spoke the words from his heart, knowing she wouldn’t believe them. He would enjoy helping her learn that he always spoke the truth about things that mattered. And she also had to learn that
she
mattered.

He extended his arm and she placed her hand on it, elegant and controlled, ready to take on the world at the evening meal.

Having observed her at every opportunity, Ian knew nothing would be gained by challenging her at this time. He had to wait, judge the correct moment to begin his campaign to win her to his side.

It would be a battle but he was looking forward to it and his mind turned over various scenarios as he led her downstairs to the small salon where Barclay was holding the door.

“Dinner will be served momentarily, my Lord. Your mother is within.”

Ian nodded and led Amelia inside.

*~~*~~*

When the woman rose from her chair beside the fireplace, all became clear.

“Hallo again, Amelia.” Katherine smiled. “I hope you’ll forgive my deception, but I wanted to meet Ian’s wife under informal circumstances.” She paused. “It was wrong of me not to tell you who I was, but that would have meant betraying Ian’s identity. I believed it was up to him to tell you that.”

Amelia nodded. “That is logical, my Lady. I must apologize, however, for anything I said this morning that might have seemed untoward.”

She noticed the uncertain look that Katherine shot at her son. Good, she had them off guard.

“Well, let’s have some food. I’m sure you’re both hungry.” Katherine walked to the small table. “We’re dining in here, just the three of us. Ian’s father is on a hunting trip…he may have told you.”

Amelia allowed a servant to seat her. “He did mention it, yes.”

Ian seated himself. “Is all well, Mama?”

She smiled at him. “Yes indeed. And may I say how happy I am that you’re here. It’s been nearly a year I believe since our son was home.” She addressed that comment to Amelia. “So you can imagine we’re glad to see him.”

“Indeed.” Amelia addressed her meal and made some complimentary comment about the soup.

Thus the meal progressed, with the conversation superficial and her comments perfectly appropriate to the occasion.

She had dined at tables with a hundred and in small rooms like this with a more intimate gathering. To her, born and raised in Society, such evenings were quite normal. What wasn’t normal was the roiling mess that had previously been her brain.

Katherine was kind and friendly, and a little worried. Ian was calm, clearly loved his mother, and undisturbed by her lack of participation. She wondered what was going on in
his
mind, and if he was as uncertain as she.

Thankfully, the meal was short, since informality usually meant less than the twelve to fifteen courses sometimes offered at the most elevated of occasions.

Ian addressed Katherine at the end of the meal. “I refuse to withdraw, Mama, so don’t suggest it.”

“I wasn’t going to. But I would like tea. So if you want a brandy, ask Barclay to bring one in with the tea tray?”

Amelia swallowed. She would love a brandy herself, but it would be inappropriate to suggest it.

“Barclay, could you bring two brandies with the tea tray for her Ladyship?”

“Of course sir.”

Ian looked at Amelia. “I think one would do you good. You’ve done a lot of riding recently and probably need to ease those muscles.”

“Thank you. That was most thoughtful of you.”
Damn you.

How could a woman stay angry at a man who knew one so well? She unbent a little. “Tell me, my Lady. Ian says he is the Laird of Kilmalochan, and yet his father is hale and hearty. I’m not sure I understand…?”

Katherine nodded. “That puzzled me as well when I arrived as a bride many years ago. My father-in-law was still alive, so I understand the confusion.”

Ian nodded his thanks to Barclay, who was setting tea things next to Lady Katherine. There were two glasses of brandy on the table as well.

He took one and passed it to Amelia. “’T’is quite simple. My father is the Laird, the head of our house. But since running Kilmalochan is not a simple task, it was felt many years ago that the teaching of such a task would better be done if the next Laird could actually do some of the running, rather than hearing about it after his father’s passing.”

She sipped her drink, enjoying the smooth heat of the fine liquor as she considered Ian’s words.

“Ian spent ten years working alongside his father,” said Katherine, over her teacup. “He’ll be able to step right in when that sad time arrives.”

“Which will not be for many years, I’m sure,” Amelia commented.

“One can only hope,” sighed Katherine. “That’s not for us to know. But we can at least ensure that Kilmalochan, the sacred trust held by the McPhersons, will continue unabated.”

“That’s a lovely way of looking at it.” Amelia sipped again. “The notion that you hold the present safe…for the future.”

“I like that.” Ian rested his hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “You put words to the idea. We should find out what that is in Latin.” He grinned at his mother. “You’d like to embroider that in Latin for our household motto, wouldn’t you?”

The snort Katherine gave in return made Amelia want to laugh, but she maintained her demeanor.

“And the ruby, Ian. You found Amelia’s ruby, you said?” his mother inquired.

“I did.” Ian nodded. “It was offered on auction by a disreputable chap in Colblair. My visit to his house showed me not only some quite nice jewelry, but also an assortment of paintings and other fine art that I believe does not properly belong to this gentleman.”

“Really?” Amelia blinked at this news. “What does one do in that situation?”

“I did what I went to do. Secure your gem if he had it, and he did. I saw it.”

Katherine frowned. “You bid on a stolen necklace?”

“Aye,” answered Ian. “And I won, as I knew I would. The ruby should be here tomorrow, lass.” He leaned toward Amelia. “You’ll be glad to see it back, I’m sure.”

This was true, but Amelia knew she could never repay him for it. It would be a crushing debt.

As if he read her thoughts yet again, he touched her shoulder once more. “Dinna worry about it. We’ll sort it out.”

“But you’re not going to let them get away with this, are you?” His mother stared at him.

Amelia agreed. And at this moment, with a good meal and a large brandy settling nicely, she’d have been quite ready to take a pistol and shoot that man herself.

“No, they won’t get away with it, Mama, I can assure you.” Ian smiled. “I have to let this ruby auction business finish up, with no suspicions of anything other than a man who bought his wife a very pricey bauble. Then a wee bird will be on its way to Bow Street. I can safely say that there will be no more auctions north of the border, and quite a few members of London’s society will be happily reunited with their lost property.”

“That would be a very good thing, Ian.” Amelia commented. “But you didn’t learn who was behind the theft?”

“No.” He frowned. “And that still bothers me. I’m hoping that once the sale is concluded, one or two of the people I suspect might show some financial improvements. Flash around a bit more money than they should have. Those people are already being watched. I didn’t waste
all
my time in London after learning of your loss.” He grinned down at Amelia.

God, he was amazing when he smiled at her like that. And the brandy must have been stronger than she realized, or else she was very tired. Because she felt tears sting the back of her eyes at the thought of giving him up.

Which she knew she would have to do.

“I think it’s time we retired. It’s been a long day for all of us.” Katherine rose. “I hope you have everything you need, children. Amelia, I’ve asked a maid to lay out a few things for you tonight and tomorrow we’ll see about settling you in properly. But for tonight, it’s rest.”

She moved to Ian and hugged him, dropping a kiss on both cheeks. “It is very good to have you home, my son.”

Amelia rose as Katherine came to her side. “And I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to finally have a daughter. Ian has chosen well.” She kissed Amelia in turn. “As have you.” With a huge grin, she left the room trailing “Good night” behind her.

Amelia looked at Ian.

He held out his hand. “Time to talk, love. Let’s go to our room.”

Our room
. Those words sent a shiver up her spine. But yes, they had to talk. Their futures were hanging in the balance at this moment and she didn’t know which way they would turn.

Or if she would ever hold his hand again after this night.

So she took it, warm and strong, and let him lead her from the room.

Ian was developing a strong awareness of what was going through Amelia’s mind, even though most of the time her face was impassive perfection. Right now he knew she was apprehensive, unsettled and unhappy about what lay ahead.

Which meant either she didn’t want to be his wife or she wanted to be his wife but had persuaded herself it was impossible.

He wondered why it all had to be so complicated for women. Then smiled inwardly, knowing he wouldn’t have them any other way.

She walked beside him in silence, her hand in his, her step steady and a match for his. He led her into their rooms and shut the door tightly.

“Now then. Let’s have it. Something has been worrying at your brain for the last few hours. Time to let it out.”

He sat down on the bed, shrugged out of his jacket, and waved her to the chair beside a small table.

She hesitated. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation?”

“We must, Amelia. If we’re to go on and find our way, we have to talk honestly.”

She sighed and sat. “Very well.” Raising her chin, she stared at him, her brilliant eyes steady. “I cannot be your wife.”

“Ah.” Ian kept his answer simple. “And why not?”

She frowned. “Do you need to ask that?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t.”

“But…” she seemed uncertain of how to continue. “I am not the right wife for the Laird of Kilmalochan. I’m not sure I’m the right wife for anybody, come to think of it.”

“I see. And what, in your opinion, constitutes the right wife?”

“Not I.”

“Is that correct?”

“Sorry. Not
me
.” She apologized.

“I wasn’t referring to your grammar, sweetheart.”

“Ah—oh, I see.”

Ian sighed. “Spit it out, woman, or we’ll be here a fortnight before you get to the damn point.”

Her chin snapped up again. “If you’d make yourself clear then perhaps things would go more quickly.”

He glared. “Right then. Any more dithering and you’ll find yourself over my knee.”

“You wouldn’t
dare
…”

And that was all it took. He was on her in the blink of an eye, sweeping her up from the chair, back over to the bed and depositing her over his lap before she had chance to do more than squawk his name.

He flipped up her skirts over her head, muffling her yelps and curses, and was presented with her magnificent bottom.

Full, creamy globes topped firm thighs, and her white stockings were gartered by a red ribbon just above her knees.

His cock hardened and his heart thundered, even as he lifted his arm and placed a solid smack on those beautiful cheeks.

She jumped, yelled and struggled, the point of her outcries quite clear even if the words were indistinct.

“I warned you,” he said. Another slap brought a rosy glow to the soft skin—and he gave up fighting his desperate need.

He caressed her buttocks, soothing the sting of his palm and stroking over and around, loving the feel of them beneath his hand.

She had stilled, relaxing into his touch as he worshipped her backside. He let his fingers drift to her thighs, rubbing gently, stroking the skin he found there as well.

She moaned softly and wriggled, spreading her legs, an invitation he couldn’t resist. When he touched her sex, he found her wet, slick with her excitement. He was in pain from his.

“Ah, Amelia.” He pulled her skirts down and helped her stand. “Undress for me, love. I would lie with my wife.”

Her face was flushed and he could see the pulse at the base of her neck as it throbbed. But she reached for her buttons and obeyed him, slipping from her clothes and standing before him in her chemise.

He shed his shirt and breeches in record time, even managing to remove his own boots.

“That too,” he flicked his fingers at her thin garment. “I want to see you naked. To know you’re mine.”

Boldly she slid the ribbons from her shoulders and let the silk drop to the floor where it puddled around her feet. “Is this what you want, Ian? A woman who has used her body in the past with other men? Who isn’t a virgin and hasn’t been for far too long? I’m damaged goods, Ian. How can you possibly expect me to understand why you want me as your wife?”

She stepped nearer, her breasts just grazing his chest. She was tall enough that she didn’t have to look up very much to meet his gaze. “If you want to lie with me, fuck me, I’ll do that. I like that. Especially with you. But you don’t have to marry me to get your cock inside me, Ian. I’m not right for you and we both know it. But we can still enjoy each other…” Her hand found his cock and stroked it with firm certainty.

He bit down on the flare of anger that her words had elicited. Then he reached down and clasped her by the wrist, making her release his cock. He captured her other hand the same way.

“I think you should stop talking for a wee bit.”

“Why?” She stared at his mouth and licked her lips. “I like being naked with you. I like it more than I have with anyone else.”

He reached behind to where his clothes were piled on the bed. He found what he wanted and brought his cravat to where he held her hands in one of his. “I am tired of your babbling about things that don’t matter, Amelia. You have been belittling yourself since you found out we were wed. And this makes me very cross. Very cross indeed.”  He had her hands tied securely now, her wrists bound by loops of his cravat. It wasn’t hurting her but she could not free herself.

She looked at the knots with a puzzled frown. “Well, I’ve been banished from town and now it appears I’ve been captured in a Scottish castle. What an interesting life I seem to lead.”

He repressed a grin. “Yes, you are now my prisoner. It’s time I taught you a lesson, lass.”

And on those words, he seized the loose ends of the cravat and lifted them, raising her arms above her head. Then he tied her to the tester rail of the four poster bed.

“
Ian…
” She almost hung there, but her height worked to her advantage and kept her feet on the floor. She was stretched though. Beautifully, sensually stretched before him.

He stepped back, noting her slightly uncertain expression.  “Well now. Let’s talk about your being fit to be the Lady of Kilmalochan.” He moved to the chair and sat down, staring at her. “You’re certainly lovely enough.”

She huffed out a snort. “Should I thank you?”

“Probably. I’m the only one who knows of your situation. Therefore, it would be sensible to be nice to me if you want to be untied before dawn.”

“Ah.” She eyed him with a heaping amount of scorn.

“As I was saying, you’re certainly good-looking enough to be the Lady. Strong legs for walking the dales. Strong arms for carrying lambs in the spring, or helping with the harvest in the autumn. And yes, we do that here.” He smiled at the thought, distracted for a few moments at the memories. But then she made a slight sound and he caught the scent of her arousal.

Good. It was working.

“Nice breasts. A matched pair with nipples the likes of which Shakespeare would have written odes to if he’d seen ‘em.”

“Thank you.” She spat out the words.

“I like sucking your nipples, darlin’. I like the way they harden in my mouth.”

She took a breath and the nipples under discussion rose and fell quite quickly.

“And then there’s your womanly parts. They’re slick now, aren’t they? Getting wet at the thought of me and my amazing cock inside you, sliding in and out while I make sure all kinds of other places receive just the right amount of stimulation…”

“
God
…” She choked out the word, her body flushing, her dark tight curls of hair dewing with her excitement as her thighs moved restlessly.

It might be working well for her, but it was damn near killing him.

He stood, carefully, and walked to her. Then without a word he took a breast in his hand and cupped it, weighing it, squeezing it—and then sucking the nipple hard.

She gasped, and thrust herself toward him, mutely telling him that she wanted his mouth on her every bit as much as he wanted her taste on his tongue.

He obliged, repeating the process on the other breast, but keeping his thumb on the now-wet nipple and circling it, flicking it, teasing it until the gasp became a whimper.

“Ian, please.”

“What, Amelia? Are you ready to accept that you’re my wife?”

“I cannot…I cannot let you ruin Kilmalochan…” she shook her head in despair.

He reached around her and slapped her buttocks once more. “Don’t deny
us
, Amelia. Embrace us.”

“I—“

He stopped her with a savage kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and plastering one hand over her buttocks. It drove his cock hard against her and she instinctively struggled to get him where she wanted him.

“Ian, fuck me…” She groaned out the plea as soon as his lips left hers. “I want you so damn much…”

“I want to fuck my wife, Amelia. Be my wife…”

“I can’t…”

Slap.

“Why can’t you see that, Ian? What is wrong with you?”

Slap.

“Oh sweet God above.” She moaned as he rubbed his cock through her juices.

“Say it, Amelia. Say you’ll be my wife.”

“Ian, don’t make me. You’ll end up hating me, I know it…” Her voice broke as she fought tears, even while her body slithered against his.

“I canna hate you, darlin’. I tried, and I failed.” He put both hands on her buttocks and squeezed, pulling slightly, knowing that the tension he was creating added fuel to her erotic fires.

“How could you fail? I’m not worth it…”

The tears fell as she made her final admission, and Ian lifted her at that moment, putting their bodies into perfect alignment.

Her legs rose either side of his hips and clasped him, holding him tight as he positioned himself.

“I failed for one reason, Amelia. The most important reason of all. I love you, dear woman. Everything else is unimportant.”

She froze. “What?”

“You’re deaf now, are you?” He chuckled although it was more of a groan since his control was down to a tiny thread. “I love you, Amelia. And you’re my wife. You’d better get used to it because I’m not
ever
letting you go.”

With that, the Laird of Kilmalochan gave a mighty push and sank his cock up to his balls in his wife’s body.

Wet, hot and ready for him, she cried out—but this time with pleasure at the sensation.

He nearly screamed himself. She was on fire, her muscles pulling at him, urging him deeper inside her. When their bodies met, her breasts were flattened against his chest and his mouth was on hers.

He swallowed her whimpers and gave her his breath as he started to move, fucking her slowly at first and then more strongly as she hung from the bed rail, locked to his body.

It was mad, savage and sensual, the ultimate joining and the ultimate surrender.

She could do nothing but ride the wave of astounding pleasure and he had uttered the words he’d never thought he would ever say.

“I love you.” He buried himself deep, knowing his release was seconds away.

“Ian…oh
Ian
…” It was a whispered sob. “I think I might love you too.”

“You
think
?”

He needed no further encouragement. He released his cravings for her, hammering into her, giving no quarter until he felt her grow taut in his arms. Her muscles hardened, her head fell back and the cords in her neck stood out as she closed her eyes and lost herself in her orgasm.

“Ian…” She screamed his name as she exploded around him, her body writhing, her legs clamped around him like a crab’s claw.

He let go and followed her, his seed pouring from him into her fire, fueled by the spasms he could feel inside her, milking him, claiming him, holding him right where he was.

The world disappeared in those moments, swallowed up by a vortex of stars, lightning and madness.

Finally, the room righted itself and Ian realized that Amelia was now truly hanging from the tester. He quickly released her and she fell into his arms, limp, damp and holding him close to her.

He eased them both into the bed. “Are you all right, love?” He stroked the dark hair back from her face.

“You said you loved me.” She stared at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Did you really mean that?”

“Aye, lass. I did. The Lairds of Kilmalochan never lie to those they love.”

She absorbed that comment, then reached out and touched his chest. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of loving you. I don’t know how to love someone. I never have.”

“I’ll teach you, darlin’. We’ve a lifetime together to learn about loving. And I’m thinking it’ll come easy to us.”

“You’re sure?”