The Adventurer (29 page)

“I know.” The duke turned back to the table. “Well then, what’s all this about Lord Belcourt’s missing ledgers?”

Calum and the others spent the next hour telling the duke, Douglas, and Alec about the plans to rescue Uilliam Bain.

“This Uilliam Bain must be a special man,” said the duke when they’d finished.

“He’s as fine a father as a lad could ever ask for,” answered Fergus, lifting his whisky glass in a gesture of salute to his father.

Douglas looked at Calum. “When do you leave?”

“On the morrow’s evening tide. I expect it will take us two, perhaps three days’ sailing to Carlisle. Depending on whether we are pursued, another three to return.”

“Well, Douglas,” said the duke. “I’m thinking there’s only one thing to be done.”

“Aye, sir,” Douglas agreed.

“What is that, your grace?” Calum asked.

“Well, I certainly cannot let my daughter become a widow so quickly after getting wed. So Douglas and I are going with you.”

“Father, no!”

The duke turned to her. “Hush, Bella.”

“Your grace, Isabella’s right. You canna—”

“Do not even think to refuse us, Mackay. As of about five minutes ago, we are now family. And
my
family looks after its own.”

Calum looked at Douglas.

“Don’t even try to fight him,” Douglas said. “ ’Tis a losing a battle.”

Calum blinked, at a loss for a response. He simply said, “Thank you.”

“It is done.” The duke nodded. “Now, I’ve a mind to partake of a bottle of your excellent Scottish whisky. And you—I would suggest you not waste any more of your wedding night, son. A man only has one wedding night. ’Tis a good idea to make the most of it.”

“Father!” Isabella was mortified.

The duke grinned. “I know what I speak of, Bella girl. A man doesn’t get himself five daughters by sleeping alone, you know.”

“Yes, but ...” She colored red to the tip of her nose, but only for a moment before Calum was sweeping her up and into his arms, and carrying her from the room with the calls and cheers of his men resounding behind them.

He carried her up every flight of stairs, stopping once, twice along the way to kiss her long and slow. Isabella couldn’t believe that she was suddenly a wife, and to the man who had stolen her heart.

It was a true dream come true.

Calum kicked the door to his bedchamber open, carried her inside, and then locked the door behind them.

Nothing was going to disturb them this night.

He turned to face her. “Hello, my wife.”

Bella looked at him. “Are we really wed? Everything happened so quickly. I feel like I should need to catch my breath.”

He took her in his arms. “Are you regretting it?”

“No. Never.”

He looked at her deeply, his expression suddenly turning serious. “I swear to you, on my honor, I will do everything within my power to assure that you never will regret becoming my wife.”

Calum lowered his head and kissed her until Isabella was giddy and breathless.

He breathed into her hair. “I find myself anxious to see you. All of you.”

Isabella felt herself begin to blush, but smiled shyly and closed her eyes as Calum nuzzled her neck. “That may take you some time,” she whispered. “There are, after all, quite a lot of layers to contend with.”

Calum lifted his head, his eyes sparking with a devilish light. “Is that a challenge, my lady?”

Isabella knew a delightful shiver when he looked at her. She smiled coyly. “Nay, my lord. It is an invitation.”

The heat in his eyes took flame. He stared at her, unspeaking.

“Does my new husband not know where to begin? You could start with my stockings, I suppose ...” She lifted a foot.

“Och, nae, my lady,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “The stockings will be the verra last thing to go. You see I’ve this secret fancy to see you wearing your stockings ... and naething else.”

“Oh ...” Isabella felt a tingle. “Oh.”

“Now then,” he said, stepping back, circling her slowly, his eyes taking in every inch of her. He stopped behind her. “I think that I will begin with this bit of muslin you have tucked around your lovely neck.”

Isabella gasped when she suddenly felt the heat of his mouth descend upon the curve of her neck. She felt gooseflesh rise along her nape and closed her eyes, giving herself over to the most delicious of sensations. Calum’s hand slipped slowly over her shoulder, tugging gently on the wispy kerchief, pulling it from where it was tucked inside the bodice of her gown. The soft muslin caressed her skin as it slid tantalizingly slowly over her breasts and neck, all while Calum continued to nuzzle her at her neck, shoulders, and behind her ear.

Isabella took a deep breath when he pulled away, and with it, took the kerchief.

“Now about that gown ...”

He came around to the front of her, crossed one arm over the front of him to support his elbow while the other hand supported his chin. “I’ve ne’er seen a gown with that ... what is it called?”

“A stomacher,” she whispered, wondering if she could possibly melt from the heat in his eyes.

“Ah, yes. It appears somehow to be held in place by this row of pretty bows ...”

He reached out and pulled on the first bow. It loosened, fell open. “Yes, that did seem to do the trick.” He proceeded to untie the other four, plucking them one at a time, very slowly.

When he was finished, the robe of her gown fell open. Calum came to her, standing before her very closely, and slid his hands underneath the silk robe, pushing it back, off and over her shoulders, until it dropped on the floor behind her.

Isabella looked up at him, and waited.

She wore a quilted underskirt over a hooped petticoat that tied in the back at her waist. Still standing before her, Calum lowered his head to kiss her, kissing her neck and shoulder, while sliding his hands down over her back to the ties at her waist. He gave each tie a tug, and together the skirts collapsed to the floor.

Calum took her hand, helped her to step out of the pool of silk and tapes and whalebone. Isabella stood now wearing her stays and her chemise, which fell to midcalf. Calum came before her, his lips curved in a knowing and seductive smile, until he took a glance at the stays, and the intricate knot Isabella had employed to tie them.

His grin vanished. “What sort of Gordian puzzle is this?”

Isabella giggled. “We ladies cannot make it too easy on you.” She arched a brow. “I should like to see how you manage this. The maid who taught me to tie it claims it cannot be breached.”

“Oh, really?” Calum grinned again, took his
sgian dhub
from his stocking, and very quickly and efficiently cut through the tie.

“Oh!” Isabella sucked in a breath. “I shall have to inform her that she was quite mistaken.”

Calum unwrapped the stays.

All that remained was the chemise, the stone around her neck ... and those stockings.

Calum took Isabella’s hand, first one and then the other, and lifted them above her head. Then he knelt down before her, his gaze capturing hers, and slipped his hands beneath the hem of the chemise. Isabella held her breath, waiting as he ran his hands slowly, gently upward, caressing the backs of her knees, splaying his fingers over her thighs, her bottom, up along her back until he whisked the chemise over her head.

His eyes continued to hold hers as he reached up and slowly pulled the pins from her hair.

Her hair fell in a tumble down her back.

Calum stood back and feasted on her—wearing her stockings, the stone of his clan, and nothing else—with his eyes.

“You are the most beautiful vision I have ever seen.”

Isabella felt herself blush, and had to fight against the urge to cover herself. She had never been naked before anyone in her life, except her maid. But the glow of pure appreciation she saw in Calum’s eyes quickly allayed her embarrassment, made her feel as if she were indeed as beautiful as he claimed.

It was a heady, powerful feeling.

“There is, however, one thing wrong.”

“What is that, my lord?”

“The garters on those stockings.” He shook his head.

“They really need to be red. We shall have to remedy that.”

Calum came to her, his expression no longer playful. He stared down into her eyes as if he was memorizing every detail of her face, tipped her chin, and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her long and slow as he urged her body closely against his. Isabella felt the heat and hardness of his chest against her breasts beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, felt the undeniable rigidity of his erection pressing against her belly. She felt a heat between her thighs and sought to ease it, running her hands up over his back and pulling him all the way closer.

When Calum broke the kiss, trailing his mouth along her neck and over her shoulders, she dropped back her head and lost herself to the sensations of his lips and his tongue. He kissed her on her breasts, suckling her, and she moaned softly, raking her fingers into his hair as his mouth worked her sensitive flesh, drawing on her nipple, teasing it, making her blood surge through every vein.

He continued lower, kissing over her belly, her hip, until he was kneeling before her. Isabella closed her eyes, braced herself with her hands against his shoulders as he very slowly lifted one foot off the floor and into his hands.

“Hold tight to me, my lady ...” he whispered, and Isabella gasped, jerking when she felt his mouth kiss her at the very top of her thigh, and keep on kissing, moving slowly closer to the very center of her.

And when his tongue touched her there, she thought surely she would die. The sensations were so new and unfamiliar, so intense, she felt her knee begin to buckle.

“Calum ...”

“Hold tight to me ...”

And Isabella gripped her fingers into his shoulders as his tongue entered her, tasting her, flicking delightfully across the swollen bud of her, again and again and again.

He consumed her while at the same time he pulled the garter tie that held her stocking, sliding the silk down and off of her leg.

When he pulled his mouth away, moving to her other leg, Isabella heard herself moan in protest.

He didn’t deny her for long.

Calum lifted her other foot and placed it on his thigh, then he continued his sweet assault on her as he removed her other stocking. And when it was gone, that silk stocking, he opened her fully with his finger and did not stop until he had overwhelmed her, and her body was rocking with her climax.

Isabella swayed against him, strengthless, spent, clutching his shoulders as if they were a boulder on a stormy, turbulent sea. Her eyes fluttered open as he stood.

Sweeping her into his arms, Calum carried Isabella across the room and lay her gently upon the bed.

She watched, basking in the afterglow of her climax, as he hauled his shirt over his head, unbuckled the belt that held his plaid, never taking his eyes from her.

In moments he was naked. And he was glorious.

His body glowed in the light of the fire, defined and sinewy. His dark hair hung about his neck, free from its tie as it fell over his eyes. She lifted one arm, beckoning, and he slid onto the bed, moving over her. He pulled her into his arms as he covered her mouth and kissed her. Their tongues met and tangled and danced as his hand slid slowly down along her side, cupping her hip, lifting her leg. Gently he settled himself between her knees.

She felt the hardness of him pressing against the slickness of her, and knew there would be pain, but it was a pain she longed for, for the need to feel him inside of her was consuming her.

He looked at her. “I love you, my Bella.” And she smiled and closed her eyes, kissing him, taking in a breath, waiting ...

She felt the sudden sharpness of his thrust as it breached her maidenhead and squeezed her eyes against the shock of pain.

Calum lay for several moments, sheathed within her, allowing her body to accept him. She was so warm, so tight around him, he wondered if he’d expend himself that moment. Slowly he withdrew, the slick heat of her sending a rush of sensation through his body like fire. Gently he pressed back, filling her completely, moving in long and smooth strokes as the sensations within him began to build.

He gathered her into his arms and started to rock against her, thrusting now, again and again, moving faster, harder. His breathing grew labored as he concentrated his every muscle upon the joining of their bodies and the pleasure that awaited them. He would take them there. With each thrust he felt Isabella sway against him, taking the fullness of him, the power of him, the strength of him, deep, deep within herself.

She cried out when the raw potency of this, her second climax rocked through her, and he felt her body contracting around him. He felt the rush of his own impending release, felt his body stiffen above her. He called out her name as he took his final thrust, burying himself within her. As he emptied his seed on a ragged, strenuous gasp, Isabella wrapped her legs and her arms around him, holding him tightly to her as he fought to catch his breath against the softness of her neck.

It was the most glorious feeling either of them had ever known.

Later that night, much later, the fire had burned down to a listless glow and the castle was filled with a peaceful and wondrous quiet. Calum was sleeping against her, with his head nestled gently against her breast and his hand splayed possessively against her hip. As she lay there, marveling at the night, Isabella thought to herself that Elizabeth had been so very right.

Making love with Calum, lying with him in his bed, feeling his breath softly brush against her neck, was the most beautiful feeling she had ever known.

She was his wife.

She was his lover.

And someday, perhaps nine months from that night, she would be the mother of his child.

Heaven did exist on earth after all.

The morning dawned to a soft rain that trickled down the windowpanes and puddled on the flagstones that lined the castle courtyard. All throughout the castle Calum’s men were scrambling hither and yon, loading the supplies and preparing the arms they would need to sail the
Adventurer
on that evening’s tide.