Chapter Ten

Isobel trembled as her husband released her and backed away. She didn’t have a fear of what was to come, so why was she shaking? She’d seen what men and women did in the light of the campfires and had an idea of how it would go. She was a married woman now, and it was time she stopped living as a child.

He reached out and took her hand. The moment felt more intimate than the kiss they had shared; it was an acknowledgment that she trusted him and he, in turn, was asking for that trust. He didn’t gloat or make her feel as if she were anything less than him.

In this moment, they weren’t two enemies with a shared past, but two strangers making a commitment toward a truce that would guide them through the years ahead. They were like thunder and rain, both fierce forces coming together to form the perfect storm.

“I have to tell Annis no’ to…”

“Dinnae worry about her. I told her I would help ye tonight.”

His hand was warm and strong, reassuring as he drew her out the door and across the hall to their room.

As the door swung in, she could see not only had the furniture been exchanged, but it was rearranged, with the bed on a separate wall. It had a different feel. It was still light outside, but he’d drawn the curtains and lit candles on either side of the bed.

After guiding her inside, he closed and bolted the door. She moved to the dressing table and touched the tip of her perfume bottle as she inspected the rest of her belongings, which had been laid out across it.

Her gaze drifted up to see Grant, still near the door, his steady stare lingering on her, studying her movements. “I’m sorry about what I said. Lyall was a good woman. She would have liked you.”

The mention of his late wife chilled her like jumping into a loch in February. She shut her eyes. When she opened them, he was in front of her, reaching out and taking both of her hands. “I’m telling ye because she wasnae here long. This room is as much yers as it ever was hers. And ye can do with it whatever ye like.”

She nodded.

“What I really want to say is we should start over. Let’s ken each other.”

But she never let herself get close to anyone. He didn’t know what he was asking for.

Giving what she hoped was an acquiescing smile, she squeezed his hand. She might be able to share her body with him, but that was it—she had nothing other than that to offer. His words said he was a man of peace and he could be a good husband who would provide and care for her and a family, but the girl who truly believed in those things had been lost a long time ago.

Still, he deserved her acceptance and admiration. She could give him that.

“Aye.” The word finally escaped her lips.

His hands left hers and drifted up her arms, gooseflesh erupting in their wake as he made his way to her temples. “I want to run my fingers through yer hair.”

Pins and ribbons fell to the floor as he plucked them out and her tresses unwound in a flurry of curls that fell to her waist. Fingers spread into her hair and massaged against her scalp. She almost moaned at the sensations that rocked through her, nothing like the poking and prodding when Annis had installed them.

His hands cradled the back of her head and tilted it toward his as he dipped his mouth to claim hers. It was no tentative kiss, it was demanding and needy, and the sensation of his lips on hers sent waves of something she couldn’t name spreading into her core, heating her and making her wish for more. When his tongue darted in to claim hers, she met it with her own. A hunger awoke in her as she let her hands come up and land on his waist.

He groaned, one hand falling to her back and drawing her in while the other continued to cup her head to keep her close. The melding of their mouths was like magic, a connection she’d never let herself experience with anyone. That sensation elicited a trust she hadn’t let herself feel in…well, since the horrid incident which changed her life.

Their tongues continued to dance. He tasted of ale and honey and something so masculine and pure she didn’t think this one kiss would be enough. His fingers fisted in her hair and he pulled her deeper as he tilted sideways and ground his body into hers.

Releasing slowly, he drew back. His heated gaze pinned her with an emotion she couldn’t name, couldn’t explain, except it made her insides quiver. There was a hint of confusion as well, like he’d not expected the intensity at which their connection burned.

His fiery stare drifted to the front of her gown and then he looked offended before he swirled her around, took her hair, and moved it over her shoulder. He worked at the laces down her back as his lips came near her ear. “I’ve thought of nothing else today but pulling this from your body and seeing my wife for the first time.”

His voice was gravelly and raw and twisted her into a tense knot of desire that wanted him to continue whatever course he was on, even if it meant her getting close to someone.

As the gown loosened, instead of feeling like she could breathe, her skin felt tighter, like a tree bending with a fierce wind. Her breasts were heavy and full, engorged and crying out for attention. Grant pulled at the material and drew it over her shoulders, leaving her in her shift and slippers.

Then, he let go of her and she felt cold and abandoned. He pulled off his boots, tossing them to the side before reaching to unbelt his plaid. The space between them gave her clarity and brought back the awareness that had fled with his touch. This man was about to take from her the one thing she’d never allowed anyone. Would it open her up to hurt?

Swallowing, she became riveted on his powerful calves when the tartan material fell from his body. Gaze drifting upward, she followed the curvature of his legs as the exposed muscles gleamed like dark marble in the low, flickering light of the candles. If she touched them, would she feel the strength beneath?

“Isobel.”

She met his dark blue gaze but she couldn’t speak, could barely breathe as her mouth fell open, wishing for another one of those kisses.

“Yer slippers and stockings.” It was a moment before she understood he wanted her to remove them. She nodded, kicking out of the slippers then bending to take one stocking off at a time.

Once she was upright, Grant guided her back and pinned her between his hard body and the wall. He’d removed his shirt. The smoldering heat of his skin radiated through her shift as his chest ground against hers.

Hands grasped onto her thighs then rose, lifting her shift as they made their way up her body. Grant drew away long enough to peel the material over her head. She thought he’d return to kissing her, but his focus lingered on her body and shivers wracked her. The loss of his heat and the cool stones at her back brought with it an awareness of what they were doing, and embarrassment washed over her body.

Would he stop now that he knew what she looked like beneath the frills of a gown?

Sapphire eyes darkened as they studied her breasts. She shielded them with her arms, but his hands clasped around her wrists, steering them to her side, and his head descended to her neck. He suckled and nibbled as he worked his way down to one breast. When his teeth scraped across her nipple, she arched into him.

After lavishing it with attention, he stood and let his body connect with hers, his hard staff pushing against the base of her belly. She gasped and her eyes flew wide as she felt how rigid he was.

Then he moved away, as if the moment was over and he was done with her. She had known she would do something to ruin the moment.

…

Grant had almost thrust into his innocent wife up against a cold stone wall—he’d lost awareness of everything except wanting to be inside her. Thank God she’d gasped when she did, or he might have taken her too hard and too fast.

He’d want to do this again and the last thing he should do was scare her.

Although she wasn’t the wife he’d chosen, he wasn’t heartless.

He closed his eyes and imagined the feel of a cold loch, anything to tamp down this need and keep him from taking things too fast. When he opened his eyes, he saw sadness in her brown gaze and for some reason that bothered him. Why did he care what she thought other than wanting her to desire him all the time?

She started to walk away. He reached out and took her shoulder. “Nae.” He drew her in. “This way.”

Guiding her toward the bed, he was pleased he’d fought off the urge to pick her up and run for the mattress. The innocence in her eyes said she was fragile right now. The warrior woman who could take down a man with one swipe of her blade had a soft side that she didn’t allow anyone to see.

“Lie down,” he instructed, and she didn’t argue as she backed onto the bed. “A little farther.”

She complied, following his lead, not taking her gaze from his body. She looked wary, but more curious. He was glad she no longer tried to cover her body. It glowed in the dancing candlelight, a flashing invitation like a beacon on a cold, dark night.

He liked this side of her, this compliant vixen who opened up to him as she waited for his cock to claim what no other man had. The thought sent a rush of heat through him, and he had to remind himself yet again to slow down. She was untouched.

After climbing onto the bed, he sank down on an elbow next to her as his fingers roamed over her curves. She shuddered and arched into his touch as his hand skimmed across her belly to clasp onto her breast. He had never been with a woman who bowed into his hands, begging for more attention.

Lowering his head, his mouth landed on her mound, kissing at first, then flicking his tongue over her nipple and finally nipping to see what her reaction would be. She moaned and her hands fisted into the covers.

Smiling, he did it again and she reacted the same way. “Do ye like that?”

“Aye. I do.” Her breathy response was almost enough to push him over the edge, make him want to plunge in and forge ahead with all his strength, relieving the ache between his legs that had become painful with his desire for Isobel.

His hand explored more, gliding farther down, back across her belly and to the apex of her legs that she had squeezed together, the only sign she was apprehensive about what was to come.

“Open,” he said, and he pushed one leg to the side.

He studied her soulful, chocolate eyes as his fingers delved toward her sweet spot; he saw shock and wonder there, until he let one finger caress her slick folds. Her eyes fluttered back as he continued to stroke her woman’s area, then he let one finger slide into her. She gasped and her eyes became unfocused, like she was dizzy and falling to pieces on the solid bed beneath her.

It undid him, his cock jerking painfully.

He had to feel her wrapped around him, but he also wanted to watch her come undone. Pulling his hand free, he shifted and climbed up, positioning himself above her. Panic lit her gaze, and she shut her eyes.

“Look at me, Isobel.” This was not the killer he’d seen on the battlefield, she was all woman, soft curves, and a trusting heart. He wanted to remember this moment, that she was more than he’d expected.

She obeyed, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze straight on.

“’Twill only hurt briefly. I’ll stop at any time ye wish.”

Once she nodded, he positioned his swollen cock at her entrance, running it up and down her passage a couple times to absorb the liquid that had pooled at her core. Her hands came up to rest on his sides as her eyes briefly darted to where they were about to join and then back to his unwavering attention.

As he entered her, her hands tightened, which reminded him to go slow, give her time to adjust and expand to meet his demands. When he came up against the barrier that reaffirmed her innocence, he waited only a second before plunging through, all the way in one burst, then resting, deep inside her, letting her recover. She only flinched, but her curiosity dimmed.

He wanted it to return. “Are ye all right?”

“Aye,” she said, but she didn’t move, so his head dipped to her mouth, claiming it, and doing his best to make her forget the pain, to bring back the pleasure and desire that had driven him onward.

When she started matching the strokes of his tongue, he knew he had accomplished his goal. Then his mouth wandered to her sensitive throat, the place that had taunted him with his mark the last couple of days. Now, she was fully his. He didn’t need to mark her to know it.

He sucked and nibbled until she was once again arching into him. Slowly, he rotated his pelvis gently, afraid if he pulled out, he would plunge back in and frighten her. Isobel’s hips writhed beneath him, matching his assault as if on instinct. It drove him mad.

She whimpered, a low mewing noise that indicated she was receiving as much pleasure as he. As he rocked, she gasped and threw her head back. He did it again and she fell to pieces beneath him. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, her bonny eyes fixated on him as what he did to her pulled her under.

He felt the pressure build as one wave of sensation rocketed through him, then another and still more as his whole body was wracked with burst after burst of ecstasy so intense he lost the world around him. As his seed filled her, he may have called out her name, but he wasn’t sure.

The room came back into focus. He held himself up then withdrew and rolled next to her, because he didn’t want to flatten her beneath his weight.

Lying beside her, he came to the conclusion he’d made the right choice by indulging in her favors. She was his, after all. He would have to change her; she didn’t have to be the barbarian from the melee. There was a softer side to her, he just had to figure out how to make her this new woman and leave the old one behind. He might even one day forgive her if she gave up her savage ways.