Chapter 20

20

T he wedding ceremony and the feast were over before Poppy could blink. She barely noticed the nasty looks and snarky comments from Mary. She smiled but hardly heard any congratulations from her mother and friends. All she could think about was what was going to happen after the ceremony.

What was going to happen right now.

They stood in Dougal's bedroom in the medieval castle that had housed Mackays for generations. The wood of the floorboards was cool beneath her bare feet; her shoes were the only thing she'd removed.

"Ye are stunning." Dougal stared at her the way he'd been doing since he'd first seen her that afternoon. A hungry, primal look in his eyes. The same one she'd seen in the garden.

One that mirrored her own hunger for his embrace.

Before she could respond to his compliment—though to be fair, she was having a hard time forming sentences—he moved closer, stroked his hand over her cheek, then leaned down and did the most delicious thing. He licked her lower lip, tugged it gently with his teeth.

Poppy sighed, stunned and excited all at once. Frissons of hot desire fired, pooling at her center, and her knees felt suddenly weak. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. When they could officially strip each other bare…

All pretense was gone. He loved her. She loved him.

They were wedded, and now it was time to get bedded.

Poppy wanted to make Dougal as weak in the knees as she was. She captured his tongue between her teeth and sucked it into her mouth. He growled, a deep, vibrating noise that caused the place between her thighs—the place he'd kissed—to pulse.

"Ye vixen," he crooned against her mouth, and she couldn't help but smile.

Dougal stroked a sizzling path with the backs of his fingers up her arms, singeing her skin through the fabric of her gown.

He gently massaged her shoulders, her back, the sides of her ribs. And then the moment she'd been waiting for: his fingers brushed the undersides of her breasts. If she'd had the strength to do it, she would rip this bloody wedding gown from her body. The fantasy of touching her bare skin to his was real. So very real.

Her nipples hardened into taut, aching buds that begged for his touch, but he didn't go near them. Instead, he drove her mad by stroking everywhere else. Dougal was good at teasing…too good. They'd barely gotten into their room, this being only their second kiss as a wedded couple—and really, the brief kiss at the altar was nothing compared to this—and already she was melting in a puddle of desire and need.

The need to touch skin to skin was overwhelming.

Poppy gently broke their kiss and took a step back. Dougal looked puzzled at first, but then she smiled and turned around, peeking at him over her shoulder.

"Unbutton me, husband."

Dougal's eyes widened, then grew heavy. His chest rose and fell as he drew in and let out a deep breath, nearly a low whistle.

In less than a heartbeat, Dougal closed the distance between them. His fingers, steadier than her own, plucked at the buttons along her spine until her dress was fully undone.

Poppy slid a hand under the fabric at her shoulder and peeled it down her arm, but before she could reach the other side, Dougal saw to it; the scrape of his calloused palm on her bare shoulder sent shivers rushing through her.

The gown fell to her feet, and she kicked it aside in a pool of fabric. Then she turned back around, still dressed in her thin chemise. Dougal raked his eyes over her, and she realized, as she never had before, how threadbare it was, that her hardened nipples pressed against the fabric, each rosy circle visible. Dougal swallowed hard enough for her to hear, his gaze riveted to the spot. Poppy's breath quickened, and she grew suddenly bolder, arching her back slightly as she took hold of the ribbons at the center of her chest.

"Wait," Dougal said, his voice low and gravelly. "Allow me to do it."

Poppy stilled her fingers, and he took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles as his other hand took hold of the ribbons between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged unhurriedly, the sound of the silky ribbons swishing as they loosened echoing in the bedroom.

Heart pounding, skin prickling with anticipation, Poppy found it hard to draw a breath. Her chemise fell apart nearly to her navel, exposing the expanse of her breasts and her abdomen. The cool air made her nipples even harder, but there was no mistaking that the tingling she felt was from Dougal's gaze and the desire for his touch.

"Ye're even more beautiful than I imagined," he said.

His compliment gave her confidence, and she dipped one shoulder and then the other until the fabric slipped away, whispering down her legs to her ankles, leaving her fully naked.

Dougal sucked in a ragged breath, then reached for her, running his fingers

from her cheek down to the dip in her throat, then lower through the valley of her breasts until he stopped at her navel.

Her skin pebbled everywhere he touched, and she shivered.

"Saints," he said under his breath.

"Touch me more." The demand was out before she could pull it back—before she' realized what she had said.

"As ye wish, my love." He leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to her collarbone, leaving a trail of heat as he slipped his lips along the length of that bone, over her chest, and then down between her breasts. His hands followed the same path until he was cupping her breasts, his hot breath on her skin.

"Please," she whimpered, desperately wanting him to touch his tongue to her nipple.

Dougal didn't disappoint, flicking his tongue out to taste and devouring her. She sighed, then moaned, her fingers finding an anchor in his shoulders so she didn't fall over from the exquisite torment of his deliciously wicked tongue. Though she protested, he kissed his way back up to her mouth, making her eager for more—of everything.

Dougal pulled her taut against him, hands wrapped around her waist, and claimed her mouth in a heated, possessive kiss. His scent surrounded her in a cloud of spicy maleness. Intoxicating.

All the gentleness of before was gone, replaced by something feral, primal. Their tongues melded and stroked in a frenzy as if, at any moment, they might wake from a dream, and neither of them wanted to miss a moment.

Poppy gripped the buttons of his jacket, tugging them free, hearing the distinct plink of one of them hitting the floor.

Oops…

Dougal tore his jacket from his body, his mouth still on hers, and then his shirt, which meant he did have to break away, but only for a second. And when he had tossed the fabric aside, Poppy splayed her hands on the bare, hard muscles surrounding his spine, then wrapped her arms around to his chest. He was warm, brawny—pure strength.

She stared in awe at the beautiful formation of his body. So different from her own. So masculine. Something inside her sparked, igniting into a frenzied fire. When she glanced up at him, Dougal's eyes matched her passion. He claimed her mouth once more with thrilling force. The power and passion behind his kiss made her tremble and soar at the same time.

She crushed her breasts to his chest, feeling the spark of lightning at the clash. Exhilarating to finally touch so intimately. They explored each other with frenzied hands, hungry to know every plane and divot. Anticipation and excitement filled her, consumed her. Dougal knew how to touch her to make her sigh and moan. Every caress, every kiss, had her feeling boneless, breathless.

Poppy skimmed her fingers over the waistband of his breeches, and Dougal hissed a breath against her lips.

"Och, lass…" he growled, giving her lower lip a gentle nip.

Wherever his lips touched, she burned. Wherever his fingers grazed, she felt thrilled. And from how he breathed, the slight tremble in his hands, she was sure he felt the same way.

Growing bolder in her exploration, Poppy pressed her lips to Dougal's corded neck. He hissed again, emboldening her. She licked a path from his neck to his shoulder. As if in competition with who could tease who, he too grew more frenzied, licking at her flesh. She mirrored his every move, her tongue darting over his salty skin, then sucking until he gasped.

But then Dougal won their little competition as he cupped her breasts once more. Poppy gasped and thrust her chest forward, filling his hands more fully. His touch was warm, and yet she shivered. Dougal's hot breath caressed over her flesh, and she whimpered. Wanted him to taste her nipples again. To feel that delicious thrill. She never wanted him to stop.

Searing hot velvet touched a taut nipple, and Poppy moaned. Her eyes sank closed in ecstasy as his tongue flicked over her nipple. My god, but he was magic with his mouth. Molten magic.

She gripped the back of his head, threading her fingers into his hair and holding him in place. Dougal chuckled, undulating his tongue in decadent caresses again and again until the exquisite pleasure of it was almost too much.

With trembling fingers, Poppy explored Dougal's chest, his abdomen, feeling the flex of his muscles beneath her touch. Again, she skimmed her fingers around his waistband and beneath it. If she was naked, he should be too.

"Take these off," she whispered. "Please."

Dougal gazed at her, his eyes hooded, his mouth curling into a wicked grin.

"What the lady wants, the lady gets." Dougal flicked open the buttons of his breeches, revealing more of his skin, and then…

Poppy rocked back on her heels and watched as he revealed a sprinkling of dark hair and a long, thick shaft—his arousal, the hardness that pressed to her and made her shiver. Her breath caught, and she felt slightly light-headed. Dougal was beyond striking. He was mesmerizing. Almost as if the heavens had opened up and sculpted him from the stones that jutted from the mountains.

For a few brief seconds, she was a little scared, but not in a terrifying way; more like, was she going to be any good at this? Without thinking, she reached out and skimmed her hand over his hard length, marveling at the velvet softness that was in contrast to the hardness beneath.

"Your skin is soft. I'd thought it would be… I don't know. Rougher somehow," she said with wonderment.

"Och, ye'll have me undone," he growled, then pressed his mouth to hers, their naked bodies clashing together in a heated, passionate friction.

Dougal slid his hand over her buttocks, and she whimpered as he tugged her even closer. The hardness of him pressing to the very heat of her and sending longing pulsing deep inside her core. He caressed her hip and tickled his way over her ribs to her breasts. Stroked her nipples while he devoured her mouth.

Dougal slipped his hand down her belly and between her thighs. She moaned when he slid a finger through her folds and stroked over the hardened, slick nub of her pleasure. Every part of her trembled. She arched into him, wanting more of the breathtaking sensations he gave her.

Then he pushed a finger inside her. Poppy cried out as her body convulsed, her sex clenching around his finger, knees growing weak. Just as she was about to collapse, Dougal lifted her into the air and carried her to the bed.

* * *

Dougal smiled down at his wife and the way she was splayed out on the bed. A feast for the taking. How had he gotten so lucky? He was still in a semi-state of shock that she was his. That he'd been able to fix the near disaster of her disappearing from his life forever.

"I love ye," he said, and even those three little words did little to relay the scope and depth of his feelings for her.

He had to show her.

"I love you, too, husband."

Dougal lay on the bed beside her, tugging Poppy into his arms as he kissed her. She sighed into his mouth, the sound filled with the same pleasure and contentment he also felt. He loved the sounds she made when he touched her. Needed to hear more. He nuzzled a path between her breasts and kissed the soft planes of her belly. Stroked over the length of her thighs, running his hands from her knees to her hips and back.

"Poppy, ye're so beautiful," he whispered.

At his gentle nudging, she opened her thighs, revealing the glistening folds of her sex covered with a sprinkle of curls. Dougal's breath caught at the sight. Not as if he hadn't seen a woman naked before. But Poppy…his wife…his forever made this moment all the more powerful. He glanced at her face. Her eyes were heavily lidded, cloudy with desire, and she watched him, studied him. This woman, his wife, was his . And he was hers.

The moment he took her, and they consummated this marriage, there was no going back. Not that he had plans to do so, but maybe she?—

"Am I…still beautiful?" she asked. "For I have shocked you into silence."

His chest grew tight, and every muscle coiled, ready to spring. He made a vow to himself that he would make her cry out with pleasure again and again.

"Ye're everything I've ever wanted and more. The most beautiful woman I have ever beheld and I love ye more with every second that passes."

Dougal moved to kneel between her thighs, feeling the warm length of her strong legs on the outside of his thighs. His cock pulsed, blood surging into the length, making him rock-solid. Poppy's eyes riveted to him, sliding up and down his body with the same hunger careening through him.

He leaned down, his weight on an elbow. The heat of her sex cradled his shaft, and he groaned with pleasure. He laid claim with a kiss, unable to keep his mouth from hers any longer. At first, he thought to distract himself from what he wanted, which was to bury himself deep inside her, but this kiss… Her kiss did anything but distract. It only made him want her more. With their bodies pressed tight, all he had to do was shift an inch or two, and then he'd be notched and ready to drive home.

Tremors passed through him as she stroked a path up and down his back, gripping his shoulders, her thighs tightening at his hips. Making love to Poppy was turning out to be a whole new experience. Perhaps love did that. Perhaps it was Poppy herself.

One thing he was certain of was that he couldn't go on like this, or he was liable to lose all control. He needed her to find her pleasure before he got to the breaking point, and there was one way he knew she would enjoy.

Dougal kissed his way down her body, nudged her thighs apart when she tried to close them and gave a subtle shake of his head. "I'm going to taste ye, love."

And then he did, lowering himself to her delicious softness. Poppy gasped and clenched her thighs, her hands fisting in his hair.

Dougal teased, probed, licked, sucked. Poppy's soft whimpers grew to full-out cries of pleasure. With his thumbs, he opened her more, tasting, devouring. God, she was Heaven. Wet heat and feminine decadence. He suckled the taut nub of flesh that pulsed and flicked his tongue over it again and again, making love to her with his mouth.

Poppy's thighs shook, and she clenched tighter, lifting her hips higher. From her pants and moans, he sensed she was close, and Dougal increased his pace.

She cried out as her body broke apart in a climax that had her quaking against him, thighs clenching, legs shaking.

Dougal grinned. "I love watching ye find your pleasure."

"And you're so…good at giving it to me."

Dougal chuckled as he slid up her body until their lips were touching once more. "I'm going to give ye more."

"I want all of you." Poppy lifted her thighs around his hips, her hands dancing up his arms.

Dougal tilted his hips, notching his cock at the entrance of her slick heat.

"This may pinch," he said.

"I know. I'm not scared."

"I'm sorry," he said as he inched his way slowly inside her exquisitely tight channel.

Poppy didn't cry out in pain, but she stiffened as he went. He kissed her, stroked her, trying to ease the discomfort of his passage until he was fully inside her, surrounded by her snug heat.

"Are ye all right?" His voice came out a croak as he gazed down at her, trying to judge how she felt. At the same time, he tried not to breathe, knowing if he wasn't careful, he was one thrust away from the release of his life.

"I'm fine, better than fine," she murmured, moving to kiss him.

That was all the reassurance he needed. He claimed her mouth, kissing her with deep promise. He didn't withdraw right away but rather pressed and pressed, rotating his hips to try and spark pleasure from her, to get her used to his girth.

When she responded eagerly, tilting her hips into his, Dougal withdrew, then eased back inside with torturous slowness. Poppy moaned with pleasure, her nails digging into his back, and he withdrew again, only this time he plunged back inside, some of the control he had slipping. He had wanted to go slow. Wanted to make their pleasure last… But her enthusiasm and his desire won out.

He gritted his teeth and charged ahead, thrusting over and over, her body clenching around his. A climax was on the brink of her horizon.

"Oh, Dougal," she gasped. "I think… Oh!"

She convulsed beneath him, and he was lost. Pleasure radiated from the base of his spine and surged outward in a powerful explosion of the most exquisite rapture, and he let out a growl that echoed in the ancient bedchamber.

Dougal collapsed against her, then rolled to the side, pulling her with him. His breaths came in hard pants, and his mind raced from what had happened. He'd made love dozens, hundreds of times. But this…this had been earth-shattering.

"Poppy." He kissed her lightly on the shoulders, then her lips.

"Dougal."

"Did I hurt ye?"

"Quite the opposite. I want to do it again."

Dougal grinned. "I am happy to do it as many times as ye like."

"Good. Because I have a feeling, I'll not want to leave this bedchamber for at least a week."

Then she shoved him on his back and climbed over top of him.