Chapter Twenty-Four

O 'Malley found his wife in the kitchen. "Hungry, lass?"

She whirled around. "From your expression, I'd say the meeting went well."

"Aye. I've been given leave from me duty until tomorrow morning. I have something I want to speak to ye about, if ye'll excuse us, Mrs. Green."

"I'll send a tray up and have the footman leave it outside of your door," the cook said.

"Thank ye." He tugged on his wife's hand. "'Tis important."

"Yes, of course. We'll see you in a little while, Mrs. Green."

The cook just smiled.

"We'll take the back staircase—'tis faster," O'Malley said.

"Are you in a hurry for some reason?"

Her innocence shone like a beacon. "Aye, lass. I'm not after wasting any more time." When she wasn't moving fast enough to suit him, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the staircase, all the way to their bedchamber on the floor above.

"Open the door, lass." She did as he asked, and he closed the door with the heel of his boot. "Turn the key in the lock."

"This must be a serious conversation if you're going to such extreme measures not to be disturbed."

"Lass, did yer ma speak of what happens in the marriage bed?"

"Yes, of course, a few years ago, after I told her I promised to wait…" Her voice trailed off.

He knew she was remembering her promise to a lad that gave his life in the name of the king. She would always hold his memory in her heart, but O'Malley knew her heart was big enough to hold more love. He intended to fill it. "'Tisn't only that I'm near to bursting with need to make ye mine, lass. Trouble is headed right for us. We need to seal our vows to be truly married in the eyes of the law and the church. Do ye understand?"

She cupped his face in her hand and smiled. "I do. I need to ask you something…a favor."

"Anything."

"Promise you won't be cross with me when I hesitate, or am not doing things the proper way."

From the blush on her face, he knew this was uncomfortable for her. "Ye have me word, Caro-lass. Just so ye know, there is no proper way to make love. There are many, many ways." He held her gaze and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to stand ye by the bed so I can help ye undress. Then I'm hoping ye can help me, because this bandage around me shoulder is a pain in the arse ." She giggled, as he'd hoped she would. "Turn yer back to me. I'll undo yer buttons."

His wife trembled. Was it anticipation, or fear? A bit of both?

"We'll go slowly." He turned her to face him. "Do ye want me to help ye off with yer gown?"

"Please. Until we can go to the vicarage, I have been borrowing a gown or two. I hope no one notices that Lady Phoebe's gowns are three inches too short on me, and Prudence's are two inches too long."

"If they did, they wouldn't think anything of it, knowing the reasons why." He reached for the hem of the gown and slowly slipped it up and over her head. Her skin glowed like alabaster, pure and white. "May I touch ye, lass?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

He traced the tips of his fingers from the curve of her cheek to the line of her jaw. Her soft gasps encouraged him. "May I kiss ye?"

"Yes…please."

Their lips met, and praise God, she kissed him back. Her moan had him going hard as stone. He had to concentrate to slow his heart rate, or else he'd embarrass himself while they were still clothed!

Nudging her chin up, he gave her a brief peck before tracing the line of her throat with butterfly-soft kisses. He dipped the tip of his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat to taste her, then inhaled her scent. It clouded his mind, and he hoped he had a similar effect on her. "Lass, are ye ready to let me remove yer chemise?"

She stiffened, and then relaxed when he pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her. The lass was skittish, not ready…yet.

"Would ye like to help me undress first?"

Her soft laughter entranced him. "If you wouldn't mind."

He let her remove his frockcoat. While she unbuttoned his waistcoat, he rasped, "I'm riddled with scars, lass. I hope ye've a strong stomach."

She lifted her eyes to meet his as she carefully slipped it off him. "I have already seen you without a shirt on and never noticed your scars." Lifting to her toes, she pressed her lips to his. "You are so beautiful, Thomas. Would you let me kiss your scars?" When he didn't answer right away, she added, "You kissed mine."

"Fair enough, lass. Are ye certain ye wish to?"

"I am sure."

"Even the one on me arse ?"

Her mouth opened, and a strangled sound emerged at first. Finally, she managed to ask, "Are you testing me to see how bold I will be?"

"Nay, lass. 'Twas just a question, and an old injury that happened when I was a lad. I goaded me brother Michael into wrestling with me. Unfortunately, we were in the barn at the time. Michael, being older and stronger, flipped me and tossed me against the wall."

"What happened?"

"One of the tines of Da's pitchfork skewered me in the arse ."

"How old were you?"

"Eight. Michael was ten."

"Did you cry?"

"In front of me older brother? Nay! Michael was horrified. He tossed me over his shoulder and clapped a hand on me hindquarters to slow the bleeding. All the while yelling for Ma as he ran to our cottage."

"You poor little boy."

"Da said I was a brave lad, while Ma… Well, she didn't exactly see it the same way. The both of us were punished."

"But you were hurt."

"Ah, as me Da said at the time, that's what happens when two eedjits aren't smart enough to wrestle somewhere safer than the barn where we keep sharp tools."

"I'm not sure quite how to help you remove your shirt."

"One arm at a time."

*

Caroline pulled the soft cambric shirt out of his trousers, fascinated by the firm ridge of muscles on his abdomen. Biting her lip, she felt her face flush, but ignored it as she uncovered the beauty of her husband. She had bathed his chest and abdomen two nights ago, but hadn't taken the time to really look at him. She had been consumed with worry, concentrating on bringing his fever down.

But now, she looked her fill. When she had one arm free, she carefully extracted the other. "Would you like me to change your bandage before?" Her eyes met his. "Or after?"

"After," he rasped.

Awed by the sculpted beauty of his heavily muscled physique, she sighed. He moaned as she pressed her lips to the scar below his collarbone. "Do you have any on your back?"

"Aye."

Caroline trailed the tips of her fingers across his pectoral muscles—pleased at his sharp intake of breath and low moan—and counted each and every scar that she kissed. When she reached fifteen, she moved to stand behind him and kissed four more. She couldn't say why, but she needed to kiss the twentieth…the same number of stitches it had taken to close the gash on her cheek. He'd counted because she asked him to. So, she counted and kissed all but the last one, which she would do now.

"Almost done," she whispered, and moved to stand in front of him and reach for the placket of his trousers.

His hands covered hers. "Ye don't have to kiss the last one, mo chroí ."

She slipped her arms around his waist and stared at his mouth until he took the hint and met her lips halfway. "You kissed my scars."

He chuckled. "Ye only have the one."

"You counted the stitches for me while you held my face still. Let me kiss your last scar, Thomas. I need to."

His sigh sounded resigned. When he let his hands fall to his sides, he warned, "Ye've teased and tempted me to the edge of me control, lass. The proof will be standing proudly when ye help me out of me trousers."

She shivered at his words, but remembered her mother's warning that certain parts of a man's body would come as a shock in the marriage bed. Caroline had kissed his chest and back, and would not falter until she kissed his backside. Mentally preparing herself to be shocked, understanding it would be a part of sealing their vows, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, they'd be blessed with a babe. "I'm ready."

At least, she thought she had been. Her eyes took in the sight of him standing in front of her, naked. At her gasp, his shaft twitched and her insides tingled. "I…uh…did not know a man's body could do"—she gulped—"that."

He snorted with laughter. "Ye cannot say I did not warn ye, lass."

Caroline clamped her mouth shut. He was right—he had warned her. Digging deep for her courage—after all, they were wed, and their joining would be necessary to complete their vows—she ordered him, "Turn around."

The scar on his buttocks was more pronounced than she'd thought it would be, given how old he was when it happened. As she traced the long-ago wound, the firmness of his muscled backside surprised her. He twitched. Was it at her touch? Her husband had put himself in her hands—there was only one way to find out. "Hold still." She cupped his backside and felt him shiver a heartbeat before she pressed her lips to the long-ago hurt.

His groan was soft, low. "Lass…"

She could not resist testing the taut muscles in front of her. "Is there any spot on you that isn't hard?"

He spun around and pulled her to her feet and into his embrace. "Aye, but we'll leave that for yer second lesson…after."

"After?"

"Aye. I cannot hold out much longer."

With the hard length of him throbbing against her belly, she knew he wasn't trying to rush her. She set her uncertainty and fears aside—she trusted him. "Would you help me take my chemise off?"

He didn't waste any time. When she was naked before him, he rasped, "Ye are a beauty beyond compare, Caro-lass. From yer nose to yer toes… Every part of ye. I don't want to hurt ye, or shock ye, but I'm wanting to touch all of ye. Kiss all of ye, like ye kissed me scars."

"All right."

He swept her into his arms and onto the bed, bracing his weight on his good arm so he wouldn't crush her. He lowered himself until they were skin to skin. She marveled that her body took his weight as she cradled the hard planes of his body…and his shaft. "Your strength amazes me. You should be weak from your injuries."

"Yer ministrations and a day to recuperate were all I needed." He studied Caroline as if he were about to devour her. "Where do I start?"

"I've never done this before," she reminded him. "Wherever you think best."

His eyes darkened to a deep forest green. Desire and passion swirled in their depths. "If where I kiss ye makes ye uncomfortable, or doesn't feel right, tell me to stop, and I will."

She nodded, unable to trust that she wouldn't squeak when she opened her mouth.

He took her mouth in a searing, heart-stopping kiss, plundering, tasting until she was writhing beneath him. His lips caressed the column of her throat, the valley between her breasts. The sensations his clever lips and tongue created had her moaning his name over and over. He took her breast into his mouth and suckled her, and she felt the shock of desire and heat all the way to her core.

O'Malley took his time, suckling, nibbling, and kissing. When he paid homage to her other breast, she felt as if she were hurtling toward something she could not quite reach, or understand.

When he moved lower, kissing her belly and hip, she wondered if he truly planned to kiss her all the way to her toes.

"I need to stretch ye, lass, so I'll fit inside ye without giving ye any more pain than our first joining will cause anyway."

Still tingling everywhere he kissed her, she sighed. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Let me show ye." With care, his passion held in check, he slid his fingers from her hips to her core, gently probing and manipulating her.

Sensations bombarded her. Unsure if she was supposed to feel this way, she whispered, "Thomas?"

He understood what she could not put into words. "Aye, lass, that's it—reach for yer pleasure. Don't be afraid. I'm right here."

He kissed her, and the tight ball of tension threatened to burst inside of her. She whimpered when he removed his fingers, until she felt the velvety tip of his shaft pressing against her. "I'll go as slowly as I can, lass."

He entered her, and she felt the walls of her passage pulse around him, urging him onward. She wanted more, but didn't understand what it was she craved. He came to the barrier of her maidenhead and rasped, "I hate having to hurt ye, mo chroí —"

"It won't last too long."

"Hold tight to me, mo ghrá ."

She clung to her husband as he plunged into her, filling her to the hilt. The combination of pleasure and pain stole her breath.

"I'm sorry, lass. It will ease soon." He molded his mouth to hers and rekindled the banked fire inside of her.

"Thomas?"

"That's it, lass. Come with me, mo ghrá ."

He carried her to the heavens, where she shattered among the stars as he plunged into her one last time and emptied his seed inside of her.

She fell asleep with her head on his heart and his big body wrapped around her.