Chapter Fourteen

"I am not going to pounce on ye."

Braylin snapped her attention back to Dugan. There was a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

"I didn't think you would," Braylin muttered. She intended to sound composed, but her voice was squeaky, giving her nervousness away.

Dugan tilted his head to one side; his expression made it clear he didn't believe her. Braylin took a deep breath and ordered herself to gather up some courage.

"I suppose it is only natural to be nervous," Braylin tried to explain. The problem was, she wasn't sure just who she was trying to convince, Dugan or herself. This time, she earned a node of agreement from him. He looked at her for a long moment, clearly trying to decide what he wanted to say to her.

"Rest easy lass, we do nae need to rush matters." Dugan had moved to the bed. "It's a fine, large bed. I'm sure ye shared a bed with one of yer sisters when the winter was bitter. Just close yer eyes and ye will never know it is me, and not one of yer siblings, beside ye."

Braylin blinked and then giggled. She couldn't help it. Dugan watched her, the corners of his lips rising up in response to her amusement.

"You are nothing like my sisters, Dugan," Braylin remarked. "Even deaf and blind, I could never mistake you for Modesty or Temperance. Never."

He grinned. "I admit I enjoy hearing ye say so."

"Truly?"

"Aye, Dugan confirmed. He held her gaze for a moment before he looked around the chamber. "I'll sleep in front of the hearth."

"We're expected to share the bed." Braylin was truly horrified to hear the words come out of her mouth.

Dugan turned back to face her, one of his eyebrows lifted. "Are ye inviting me into yer bed, Braylin?"

You did like his kiss. And you are wed now…

Her thoughts tempted her with the promise of once again experiencing more of the intensity that she'd found in his embrace.

Did she dare to say yes?

"Speak yer mind lass," Dugan encouraged her.

"Wives do not…speak their minds," Braylin argued.

"But you are my wife," Dugan said, "I would always have honesty between us."

Dugan waited for a moment before he continued. "I meant what I said about courting ye through this winter lass. Ye have no need to worry that I will be insisting on a consummation tonight. But I will nae say no if ye invite me into yer bed. The way ye kissed me back in the storeroom will nae leave me mind."

The memory was burning brightly in her thoughts as well.

There was a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. Braylin felt something stirring inside her belly. A heat that made her feel restless. Those stolen moments inside the storage area were still burning brightly in her mind. The knowledge of how he'd opened some secret doorway inside of her, just begging her to celebrate the wedding night as it was intended to be.

No moment in time could be recovered once it was past. One had to live in the moment or risk living with regret.

They were wed….

Braylin looked at the bed. The covers were pulled back to show the clean, unmarked surface of the fabric. In the morning, the matrons would be back to inspect those sheets, looking for signs of her purity.

But that isn't why you want to invite him into the bed.

She fingered the bottom edge of her chemise. She didn't know what she felt—her stomach was churning, her breath was halted, and she was so very warm. Understanding what she was experiencing was impossible. But acting upon it, that would come easier.

"I would invite ye into the bed," she said.

"Are ye certain, lass?" He asked.

Was she?

"I am sure that I would like to be done with dreading," she admitted. "And I am certain that my future is here, with you. Our vows have been witnessed." Then she grasped the edge of her smock and lifted the garment up and over her head.

Dugan drew in a stiff breath. "Ye have courage, Braylin."

The compliment pleased her, easing some of the apprehension and leaving her with a prickle of anticipation. She locked gazes with him. Something shifted inside of her when she caught a glimpse of the mischief in his eyes.

Dugan reached over and pinched out the candle. The room fell into darkness, which suited her well, for she liked him cast in darkness best.

He pulled his shirt up and over his head. She watched him drop it over a bench before he came close to the empty side of the bed.

He was a creature of shadow and silvery glint—like the embodiment of every whispered forbidden tale she'd managed to overhear in the servant's kitchen. Her heart pounded.

She felt Dugan climb into the bed, making the bed ropes creak. He came close, so near that she felt his body heat. When he gathered her up in his embrace, she felt like it was all too much for her to endure but the moment he kissed her, she melted.

It was impossible to think. So she just sank into the heat and delighted in being held against him. A warm bed had always been a source of comfort. Now though, she discovered a much deeper sort of enjoyment between the sheets. It was far more intense than their kiss in the storage room, for now there was nothing between them.

"Ye are fair beyond my dreams, lass," Dugan muttered.

He gathered her close again, stroking her, kissing her. She tried to mimic his motions, allowing her instincts to guide her. The darkness was the perfect setting, for it heightened her remaining senses. Everything felt like it was building up to something…something explosive. When he pushed her onto her back, she clung to him, trusting him to guide her along the unexplored path.

There was a moment of tightness that became pain when he pressed forward into her. Braylin gripped his forearms as she gasped.

But it was gone a moment later.

Dugan was still, his length buried inside of her. She felt him kissing her brow with the most tender touches from his lips. A thousand honey-coated words couldn't have done as much to convince her of how enthralled he was with her in that moment. But the way he was still, waiting on her comfort instead of seeking his own pleasure was the most unexpected kindness she'd ever encountered.

For she knew that most men used their wives.

But instead, Dugan was soothing her.

She relaxed and he began to move. Suddenly her body, which had protested that first thrust, now felt as though she had been made just to be connected with him in the way they were now. A sensation of pleasure began to build inside her. She lifted her hips, moving faster until everything tightened inside of her. Pleasure burst inside of her like a bubble of pure light.

It was hot and intense, beyond anything she'd ever encountered. But she wasn't alone. Dugan's body went taut, and she heard him groan, while deep inside of her, she felt his seed filling her.

When he rolled off of her, she heard his labored breathing. Her own heart was slowing down, leaving her relaxing more completely than she ever had in her life.

Well, if that was a wife's duty, she was pleased with her lot.

*

Braylin was sleeping.

Dugan listened to the soft sound of her breathing. Her hair was a silky cloud. He touched it, smoothing some of it away from her face. He should sleep but his mind was churning.

He had a wife.

It was hard to believe, but more and more, he was fascinated by the idea. Everyone married after all. It was part of life. And yet, as he laid there, listening to the soft breathing of the woman beside him, Dugan had a hard time believing that the moment was real.

Perhaps he was drunk and would awaken to find the Samhain bonfire burnt down to coals and Braylin long gone.

Braylin shifted, and their knees touched. She made a soft sound before she turned away from him, seeking a more comfortable position.

Dugan followed her, securing her with one arm around her waist.

She was real.

And she'd clearly accepted their union.

At last, his mind stopped questioning the reality of the moment. But that left him struggling with a much larger quandary.

He had a wife.

In all of the time that he'd known he'd someday wed, he hadn't really thought about what he'd be able to offer a wife. He'd never had a taste for ambition, but now, he recognized that his choice would affect Braylin as well.

Tomorrow, he'd need to get on with finding a way to secure more of a position than just being the laird's bastard.