Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

H e had danced as many as five times with his wife, by the time the wedding feast had come to an end. Each time, she felt hotter underneath his fingers. Each time, he found it more difficult to let go of her once the music had stopped.

When it was the time to wish their guests goodnight and retire, they did so quickly but politely, heading towards the main stairway that led to their separate chambers. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, turning to her, watching her try to lift her gown so she wouldn't stumble over the hems.

Without thinking, he bent down and picked her up into his arms, slowly starting to climb up.

"What are ye doin'?" she asked, aghast, but at the same time, grinning from ear to ear.

"What does it look like, lass?" he smirked. "Helpin' ye."

"I'm nae that tired that I cannae walk up the stairs meself," she pointed out, although he could hear amusement strewn all throughout the notes of her melodious voice.

It was noisy in the Great Hall. Far too noisy for his liking. Now, he was able to focus on her voice alone.

"I daenae wish ye to stumble over yer gown," he said. "If ye fall down the stairs, someone might say I pushed ye for yer inheritance," he chuckled.

Hearing that, she laughed aloud. "The joke would be on then, wouldnae it? Because ye wouldnae have gotten a single penny!"

"Aye," he nodded, enjoying the fact that she could take a joke even if it was at her own expense. He liked people who didn't take themselves too seriously. At least, not seriously enough be unable to laugh at themselves. That only proved to him how confident and bold this girl was, which made him like her even more.

Once they climbed up the stairs, he simply continued to walk in the direction of her chamber.

"I can walk from here on me own," she told him, as her body slightly tightened in his arms. He pretended not to have noticed it.

"It is nothin' but a few more steps," he replied. "After all, arenae we now a husband and wife? And isnae a husband supposed to carry his wife over the threshold in his arms?"

"I suppose ye are right," she agreed. However, her body still didn't relax, even after this agreement.

He didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, so he remained quiet for the next couple of seconds, until he reached the door to her chamber. He considered putting her down gently, but he said he needed to carry her inside. That was his excuse. So now, he held her in his arms, just waiting.

"It isnae locked," she informed him, sounding slightly more at ease than a moment ago.

He tried pushing the door open with his foot, but it didn't work. The doorknob needed to be turned, for the latch to give. He neared the door and rested his elbow on it. A slight click was heard, and the door opened slightly. He used his foot to open it enough for the two of them to pass, without hitting the doorway.

As soon as they were in, he lowered her tenderly, listening to the sound of her dainty feet touching the floorboards. She looked a little flushed, but it suited her. She straightened her gown modestly, then looked at him. He couldn't take his eyes off her, this sweet, wonderful woman he had just married. The thought was yet to settle within the confines of his mind and his heart.

He wanted to stay, but he knew that he had just invited himself in. No matter how much he wanted to repeat that kiss they shared, he did not want to force himself on her in any way or have her feel obligated towards him. If they were to kiss again, it had to be because they both wanted to.

"Well, I supposed I should wish ye a good night," he said, turning around but then, felt a tug at his elbow. Her touch felt like a bolt of lightning. He wanted more. It was a sensation he could not deny.

"I… I have yer jacket here," she reminded him. "Ye gave it to me the night we stumbled onto each other in the garden."

The night they kissed. That is how he remembered it. He had all but forgotten about the jacket. And right now, that was the furthest thing on his mind.

She turned around from him, searching through a cupboard that she opened wide. She couldn't seem to find it. Slowly, he closed the door with his foot, then walked over to her. Gently, with the tips of his fingers, he grazed her skin, trailing an invisible line from her wrists to her shoulder. Her skin erupted into an explosion of gooseflesh. The reaction she had to his touch was exactly what he was hoping for.

She stopped looking for the silly jacket. He gripped her by the waist, spinning her about, so that she was standing, facing him. Her lower lip was trembling. She bit it in an effort to steady her nerves, and that was when he felt something come undone inside of him. Her heated cheeks were enough of an invitation for him to grab her and pull her close, pressing his lips to hers in an explosion of ecstasy.

Her tongue danced with his, and he could taste the orange flavored creamed ice that she had during the celebration. However, nothing was as sweet as her own delicious smell, the way she melted in his arms, silently begging him to never let her go. He could not make that promise of forever, but he could remain true to it tonight.

She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it more than anything ever before, and the moment their lips locked, she felt as if she had lost her mind. Nothing else existed, but the taste of him.

She listened to his groans, as he deepened the kiss, becoming hungrier, needier. Their bodies were pressed against each other, their hearts beating as one, madly, a million beats per second. With his arms enshrouding her, keeping her anchored to himself, he started to move them slowly towards the bed. She didn't need to open her eyes to know where they were headed.

She hung her arms around his neck, waiting for his command. Only now did she truly feel the extent to which she was his. She had been fighting this feeling for so long, ever since she met him, and now, it seemed that fighting it was futile. It served no purpose, because she was exactly where she was supposed to be, in his arms.

She felt the gentleness of the mattrass underneath herself, as he adjusted her on the bed, laying her down. The pins in her head bothered her, so she started plucking them out one by one. He looked at her curiously for a moment, then rested his entire body weight on his hands, hovering above her. He slid to the side, starting to pluck the pins out of her hair himself.

"Is that the last one?" he asked.

"I think so," she nodded. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, spreading like a river over the bed. He pressed his hand to her cheek.

"Ye should always wear yer hair like this," he told her. "Keepin' it hidden like that is a sin."

"A sin?" she chuckled.

He only smiled, staring at her. With her hair unbound like that, and her body all aquiver, she wasn't certain what was to follow. She had an idea, but this was her first time. She wanted it to be perfect. She wanted herself to be perfect, but that was difficult when one wasn't certain what one needed to do.

"It is a sin that I could not kiss ye like this before," he suddenly said.

"Like what?" she wondered, but he offered no answer. Just a mysterious grin.

"Let me show ye," he murmured, going down between her legs.

"Alistair, what– "

"Shhh," he interrupted her surprised sound of protest. "It is just kissin', I promise."

Immediately, she untensed. Her heart gave a little thump, louder and stronger than before, just to remind her that she was now more alive than she had ever been. And she loved that sensation.

She lifted her head, seeing him between her thighs. He gently took the hem of her gown and lifted it up, all the way to her waist. Now, most of the fabric pooled around her waist, baring her legs. And not only that. Exposing her like that was supposed to make her blush like mad, to make her uncomfortable and embarrassed, but she felt none of those emotions. On the contrary, her entire body welcomed his caress, his lips, his hot breath on her naked skin. A deep, mysterious place between her thighs was throbbing with need, and the closer he got to it, the more desperate she seemed to become.

"Tell me how ye like this…" she heard his voice, and the moment he said that his fingers clasped around her knees, spreading them even more apart. His touch was warm, slow, painstakingly so. He was stroking her tenderly, and that bolt of longing inside of her was only growing stronger.

His fingers then started to trail upward, gliding over porcelain skin, up her inner thighs, until her most intimate flesh was exposed right in front of him. She stifled a gasp in the back of her throat, for no one had ever seen her like this. The sensation of forbidden thrill seized over her entire body.

She looked down at the exact moment when he looked up. Their eyes locked in this most intimate of moments, right over her spread legs. She could not believe the sight she beheld. His eyes bore the likeness of someone who had never seen anything more beautiful, more tantalizing in his entire life.

"Ye are pure perfection, Hannah," he murmured so softly that she barely heard him. But her heart did. That was enough for her entire body to explode into a million butterflies, all of which tried to fly off the bed at the same time.

His fingers kept moving towards her very center when he lowered his lips to her inner thigh and started kissing a trail upward. She gasped softly, biting her lower lip, unable to resist the temptation. Then, he stopped just at her secret entrance. His fingers only grazed at her lips. His heated breath caressed her flesh.

"A perfect kiss," he said, as his tongue flicked over her pearl softly at first, instantly bringing her to the heights of pleasure the likes of which she had never sensed before. Her back arched, and instinctively, her body adjusted itself to his mouth, so she would give herself more readily to him.

He sucked at her lips leaving them wet and glistening, and with her eyes closed, all she could hear was that tantalizing sound. Then, he sank his tongue inside of her, flicking upward. This invasion caught her off guard, but before she could react to it with her mind, her body had taken over. Pleasure exploded inside of her, but she knew that this was not even close to what he had planned for her with that devilish tongue of his.

She gripped at the bedsheets, in an effort to control herself, but it was impossible. This man had her on edge, writhing under his touch. She felt if he continued in this manner, she would come undone instantly.

"Ye are so wet, Hannah…" she heard him murmur against her core, and the sound of his voice with his naughty words made her feel even more desirous for him, for his tongue, for more than she ever thought she would do with him. "I want to make ye feel good…"

She almost couldn't imagine that there could be more than this. But obviously, there was, because his devilish tongue flicked over her pearl again and again, and the world around immediately ceased to exist. He added the tip of his finger, just playing with her entrance, not delving inside of her, and these light pulses only made her more desperate for release. Only now did she realize that she had married a master in the pleasures of the flesh. How else could she define a man who knew how to do this to a woman?

His tongue worked harder and harder, licking, sucking, nibbling, changing the tempo, and with every change came a new tidal wave of decadent pleasure. He opened his mouth, taking her pearl inside, all of it. He sucked longer and harder. She moaned loudly, grabbing a fistful of his hair, unable to control herself any longer.

All she could do at this moment was surrender to him, to this wonderful, wicked man who knew exactly how to pleasure a woman. Those wet sounds of his tongue only heightened her yearning. The musky scent of his body on top of hers, the way he touched her, the way he played her like a fine instrument made her delirious.

She had no idea if it was the rawness of her emotion, the fact that she knew nothing of love making or the frightful fact that she was falling madly in love with her husband, but Hannah was brought to her knees before this man, although literally, he was the one kneeling in front of her.

"I want ye to spend on me tongue," he pulled away only enough to tell her this, then he continued bringing her to the brink of madness.

Ecstasy exploded through her entire body. She was breathless. Her body felt as if it wasn't her own any longer. It quivered on the bed, like a puppet without any strings, at the mercy of the wind. She was infused with something she could never describe, even if she had tried.

When her soul finally lowered back into her still shivering body, he moved up close to her, embracing her entire body. Then, he bent down and placed a soft, tender kiss on her cheek. Resting her head against his chest, she could hear his heart beat. She wondered if it was beating faster than her own. That was probably impossible.

She also wondered if they were supposed to talk now. She couldn't. She felt her mind was a blank. She'd lost the knowledge of the entire English language.

When she looked up at him, she realized that his eyes were closed. His breathing had become steady. Even his heartbeat slowed down to a consistent rhythm. Hannah had no idea when she fell asleep, but when she opened her eyes in the middle of the night, she was still in the arms of her husband, the man who had made her explode in heated throes of passion.

She smiled in the darkness, without any witness of her doing so. She kissed his lips softly, barely noticeably, then she closed her eyes, inhaling the soothing scent of his body, and fell back asleep.