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James slammed the door shut with a kick of his booted foot as he swept Tosia into the room. Perspiration droplets rolled down her back under the tight bodice of her gown, and her insides shuddered against his touch.
So soon? Now? She was supposed to expose herself, give her body to this man she’d only met a sennight ago and whom she’d spoken to but thrice in that time?
What madness was this?
Truthfully, she didn’t know what to expect. Her mother had explained in a general sense what happens between a man and a woman, though Tosia hadn’t fully believed it. She’d heard gossip and rumors and jokes from the kitchen and scullery maids concerning the virility of men and the things they did under the covers.
Bathed in a heated blush, Tosia had quickly found other duties far from those giggling, wagging tongues.
But here, now? Perchance she should have listened more to those wagging tongues.
Instead of rushing her to the bed, James set her steadily on her feet and moved around the room, snuffing out a few of the candles and unwrapping his plaid from his shoulders to hang it on a peg near the hearth.
In the dim light, Tosia noted that her meager belongings had been brought to here from her tiny chamber and set on his trunk, ready to become part of the Black Douglas’s chambers. Tosia shivered again.
Once the room was set the way James desired, he turned to her. Tosia’s quivering stomach dropped, and a hot flush overwhelmed her. If it hadn’t been for the narrow oak table at her backside, she would have swooned to the floor.
His lustful eyes, icy, reminding her of pine treetops in midwinter, studied her, and Tosia felt a bit like a mouse under the predatory gaze of a lynx. She played with her fingers behind her back, wondering if there was something she was supposed to do or say. Or just let him look?
James tipped his head and rubbed his knuckles against his shaven chin. He did have a dimple there! A cleft normally hidden by his whiskers, its appearance only made his jaw seem more sharp, his face more lethal.
“We are wed, lass. But I find there to be an issue.”
She was suddenly dizzy, and her knees went weak. An issue with her? Did he regret wedding her? Was he now going to set her aside? The moisture in her mouth dried up, and she had no words in response. What could she possibly say?
“We’ve spoken together all of three times. Each of those times, I tried to convey that I will no’ bring ye harm, that ye are mine and I guard that which is mine. I’ve lost too much, aye?”
His eyes squinted at her. Tosia still had no voice, but she nodded slightly. Where was he going with this? ‘Twas not how she expected her wedding night to start.
Not that she had any presumptions about that to begin with.
“But we’ve only had those three conversations. Not exactly what I’d call wooing. Do ye agree?”
Here she could readily nod. She’d had the same clarity from the moment she woke that morn.
“And as a new wife, I assume a virgin wife, I might also presume ye have many fears and questions about what will transpire this night.”
“My mother —” her voice trailed off. He shifted his head toward her.
“Pardon?”
“My mother explained to me what transpires. And the maids gossip.” Her voice barely broke the air as she spoke.
“Mmmm,” James mumbled, his lips thinning in a suggestion of a grin.
“But being told how to ride a horse and actually riding one are two completely different things, aye?”
Tosia’s hand flew to her neck as her eyes blazed wide. “Surely ye canna compare to a horse?”
She’d seen the members of many a horse. Try as she might, Tosia couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking to the waistband of his kilt.
“Nay! No’ like that, I mean.”
Tosia straightened and had to fight against the surprising smile that tugged at her cheek. For the first time in their conversations, she had knocked away his stiff and unyielding demeanor. Maybe it was his small taunt about biting at their wedding, maybe it was that she was starting to feel a sense of ease from the man, their wedding night notwithstanding, but giving him a sense of discomfiture made him appear more human, less monster, in her eyes.
She crossed her arms over her breasts, waiting for him to continue.
“What I mean,” he put a hard, gruff emphasis on his words, “is that hearing of it is far different from completing the action. I can make that easier for ye, if I may.”
Seeing the change in James piqued her curiosity.
“In what way?” she asked.
“Weel, again, like with horses. Do ye ken how to have a new horse become familiar to ye?”
Tosia bit at her lips before answering. “I fear I’m no’ overly familiar with horses.”
James nodded, his face softening as he gazed at her. “Ye dinna just rush in, aye? A horse is skittish, and the two must become acquainted. Ye do that by first sharing your presence with the horse, moving gently around him until he is comfortable with your nearness. Only then might ye touch. The horse may no’ move, and your touches must be slow, easy, until the horse adjusts to ye. Only then might ye begin to really pat the horse, or try to ride him. It may take a while, but once that happens, the horse and rider can move as one.”
Tosia didn’t answer right away. She blinked slowly, trying to take in all he’d told her. This was not the conversation she’d anticipated on her wedding night, but then, what was?
“What are ye trying to say? What’s your suggestion?”
James inhaled, inflating the breadth of his chest as his eyes glittered in the candlelight.
“Ye must get to know me, more than our brief encounters have permitted. I shall be as the horse, unmoving. Ye can study me, undress me, touch me to your liking, and I will no’ move an inch.”
Tosia cocked her head as her rosebud lips pressed together.
Was he crazy? What man could just stand there under the attentions of a woman? Not move at all? His offer seemed implausible at best.
“Not move at all?” she questioned.
“No’ until ye are ready. But.” Here his eyes narrowed slightly. “Once ye bid me move, though I will do the best I can to be gentle for ye on your wedding night, ‘twill be rather like ye’ve released the wild animal side of the beast. And ye must be prepared. Only grant me move if ye are certain ye are ready for me.”
One amber eyebrow rose on her forehead. “Ye vow no’ to move, no’ touch me, until I give ye leave?”
James took a deep breath. “Aye. This I vow.”
‘Twas an impossible offer. There was no way he could remain still and not move until she permitted. He was a hot-tempered man who acted rashly and oft without thought of consequence. Could he now control himself enough to hold still that long?
Tosia signed silently. In truth, she had no option but for the one he offered. She was his wife. He could take her as he might. If he were giving her the opportunity to familiarize herself with him, extending her a courtesy that he didn’t have to, then what else could she do?
James stood stock-still in the center of his own chambers, his booted feet firmly affixed to the freshly woven mat that covered the stone floor. The candlelight danced off his skin and cast shadows on his tunic and kilt. She left the relative safety of the table’s edge and moved to stand before him. He spread his feet shoulder width apart and clasped his hands behind his back, patiently awaiting her investigations.
Tosia started by eying him in a sidelong look, as if she feared looking at him straight on. Even when his hands were bound by his own promise, she hesitated. Her eyes dropped to his legs, so she decided to start there.
His well-formed legs were on the lean side, covered in long muscle and a bit of rough black hair that made his skin appear darker than it was. His kilt brushed right above his knees, and she could barely make out the firm line of his thigh before it disappeared under the plaid.
His waist was tight, not paunchy like some men she’d seen who enjoyed too much mead or whiskey and meat. His body was a warrior’s body, rigid and carved, as if from stone. From his waist, his chest flared out, and matching his arms under the short, loose sleeves of his tunic, packed with muscle — further testament to his days spent wielding a sword.
She shifted then, made to walk around him, but her eyes flashed the question to him first. Was she allowed to move around in her rather unorthodox introduction? His chin dipped almost imperceptibly. Thus encouraged, she lifted her skirt and circled him, noting the broad expanse of his backside and how his black waves of hair, so short on the sides, yet curled to the neck of his tunic. So he hadn’t clipped it entirely.
Tosia continued her trek to face him again. His eyes didn’t drop to hers, but remained forward, as if he were on guard and couldn’t lose his focus.
Under her scrutiny, perchance, that was how he felt. If he lost his focus, he’d break his vow. The strong lines of his cheek, now visible like the cleft in his chin, were as sharp as cut stone and as hard as the rest of him. His intense eyes, that shifted from engaging to soft to flinty in a matter of moments, stared over her head to the wall.
Only a few days past, he had touched her lips with his, drawing her into a dizzying world of emotions she struggled to understand.
His lips were the first part of him she touched, returning the favor. He exhaled a wavering breath that tickled across her fingers. All that power surging under his skin, barely checked and controlled.
That same wry smile she’d experienced earlier returned to her face. So, she wasn’t the only one unnerved by this interaction.
Her fingertip traced the fullness of his lips before trailing a line down his warm neck to the edge of his tunic. The rough fabric covered him from neck to waist and most of his upper arm. Was she supposed to remove his clothing? From his suggestion before he fell silent, it seemed she should.
She dropped her hand to the hem of his tunic and tugged. He moved with her, lifting it over his head. He clasped his hands behind him again, dropping the tunic at his heels.
His chest rose and fell in front of her eyes as he tried to control his breathing. Her eyes roved over his bare skin, and something in her own chest, something strange and compelling, flooded her and made her head swim. The chiseled muscles of his chest rose and fell. She felt that she should feel awkward, shamed even, for staring at him as openly as she did, but he gave no indication that she should stop. In fact, from his steely presence, he seemed to encourage her to continue.
Other than Tavish, had she seen a half-naked man this close before? Nay, certainly not. And definitely not one she could reach out and touch at will. That knowledge made her even more dizzy.
A smattering of black hair, as dark as the hair on his head, covered the expanse of his chest and narrowed to a fine arrow at the waist of James’s plaid. With a tentative hand, Tosia reached out and let her fingertips stroke the beast’s fur. For that’s what it truly was. Then she let her fingers sink beyond the thatch of hair to the skin of his panting chest.
It was like touching a large, powerful animal, warm, with a steady rise and fall that seemed somehow larger than the man himself. The Black Douglas may have told her he was just a man, but his furred chest, his heavy breathing, the flare of his nose as he forced himself to remain still under her ministrations, told her that he was, indeed, more beast than man.
His skin was marked, covered in scars, a life of hardship and battle written upon his skin.
She walked around him again, her fingers sliding across his side, over the ruched muscles of his back, which were also covered in scars and marks.
What hadn’t he done to his body? she wondered. Were all warriors thusly marked?
In a sudden bold move, her hand dipped lower, over the plaid, pressing against the hard rounded globes of his lower backside. He twitched at her touch, surprised by her more intimate gesture. She’d seen the tight, rounded backside of him when he wore his braies, and it was as firm as it appeared. Her heart raced her in chest as her side smile returned.
There was something to be said for having this much power under her control.
Would it always be like this? He’d made a vow to her, said that he was hers. Did that mean his barely controlled power was hers to command?
The thought sent another shiver that bloomed hotly between her thighs.
Her fingers rose up on his hip to his belly as Tosia finished circling him. She glanced at his legs, still clad in his boots. She pointed at his feet.
“Your boots?”
Without hesitation, his feet went to work, the toe of each boot taking turns to loosen the heel before lifting one leg at a time and pulling the limbs free. James tossed the boots behind him without looking. His eyes remained fixed on the wall.
Tosia was impressed at his commitment to his vow not to move unless she gave him permission.
Now the only thing that stood between her and her new husband’s naked form was a swath of dark plaid and the belt that held it on his hips.
Was she courageous enough, bold enough, to bring her hand there?
She started at his waist, using her finger to follow the thick edge of his brown leather belt. At his hip, she patted her hand over his plaid, like she’d pat a goat, then brought her hand back up to his belt. Her fingertips hovered over his groin, barely touching his copper belt buckle.
His belly quivered and danced under her fingers, and his breathing grew more ragged in the quiet of the room, sending a rush of his breath against her hair. She flicked her gaze up to see that his head had dropped a bit, his eyes angled downward as he focused those blazing green eyes at her.
No longer stoic or perfectly still. He was losing his control, yet fought with his own inner beast to keep his vow not to move.
Emboldened by his faltering control, her hand shifted, pressing against the hard member of his arousal that bulged against her palm. James gasped sharply. Tosia wanted to snatch her hand away — he was like a horse! — but forced herself to keep her hand pressed against the rigid shaft under his plaid.
She was certain that now he’d move, now he’d tell her this game he made of promising not to move was at an end, but he didn’t. The only movement he made was a narrowing of his eyes and the pulsing of his manhood.
While her own chest quivered, that blossoming heat between her legs grew, becoming hotter and spreading lower on her thighs and up to her chest.
With both hands, she slipped the belt from the buckle, and his skin shook as she withdrew the belt. The plaid caught on his hips, precariously balanced, and after a heartbeat of hesitation, Tosia tucked a finger into the waistband, forcing the wool to drop to his feet.
She was at once shocked and mesmerized at the sight of his straining manhood, hard as a sword yet smooth and pulsing toward her as if it already knew the way home.
Her hand reached out and she stroked the hot, silky length, caressing her fingers over the purplish, rounded top of his staff. The ragged, shivering breath he took told her James was at his breaking point.
Then she enveloped his cock in her hand, and his arm shot out from behind him and grabbed her wrist with such a grip she thought he’d crush the bones of her hand.
Instead of cowering away, she kept her own grip on his manhood and turned her eyes to his. If his eyes had teeth, he would have devoured her whole, but she still met his gaze straight on.
“Ye vowed ye wouldn’t move until I released ye,” she whispered.
“Didn’t ye though?” he rejoined, his voice gruff and ragged.
“Nay. No’ quite.” She turned her head slightly, peering at him from under her heavy lashes. Her lips relaxed into that half-smile again. “Do ye wish me to release ye? To give ye leave to move?”
His hand clenched her wrist as his gaze burned into hers, challenging her that he might remain in control when they both knew he was nearing the point of no return.
As was she.
“Answer me, James,” she demanded, again shocked at her impertinence. When had she become so brazen? “Do ye desire that I give ye leave?”
His whole body shuddered.
“Aye.”
What power she wielded — what power he had bestowed upon her.
She squeezed his throbbing shaft again, and his groan was so loud and raw that it shook her to her core. She leaned into him so her lips were near his chin. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for what was to come, she spoke the words.
“Then I release ye.”
With a low snarl like the beast he was, James moved with such speed that she barely finished the words when she was on her back in the bed.
He lay atop her, though she was fully dressed, and his eyes searched her face, her heaving bosom, and lower to her waist. Then he cupped her face in his hands and spoke plainly.
“I will do all that I can to ease this transition for ye. If I can make ye feel half the excitement and passion for me that I feel for ye right now, then ye might find your own heights. If ye dinna, I vow that every night after this one, ye will know naught but the greatest ecstasy.”
The promise was an odd one — how could he make such a vow? And were such sensations possible on one’s wedding night? She had not heard any rumors of the like.
Tosia didn’t have time to ponder it, as one of his hands cupped her backside, pressing her hips against his as the other worked at the laces at the back of her gown, freeing them with ease.
Once her gown was loose, he wasted no time in sliding it down her body, followed by her thin chemise that didn’t hide anything as it was, until her body was free, and she was as naked as he. She expected him to move then, to take her as quickly as his ragged desire suggested he would, but he didn’t. Rather he paused, feasting upon her with his heated gaze.
James’s own passion rose inside him, and as much as he wanted to plow her pink furrow with wild abandon, he couldn’t. She wasn’t a hussy to be used and tossed aside. Tosia was his woman. He belonged to her, and while she might feel the pain of first love this might, he swore to himself he’d do everything in his power to make sure he worshiped her body as it deserved to be worshiped.
It was the least he could do for this gift that lay before him.
Her legs dangled off the bed, smooth as poured milk. The apex of her legs that hid her treasure shimmered like dark heather honey in the candlelight, rich with amber and rose and malt, and would surely taste just as sweet. His cock pulsed at the view she presented.
His eyes continued their upward movement as she breathed heavily under his gaze, panting as much as he was, making her plump breasts jiggle under the exertion. Her nipples, dusky pink in the dim light, peaked, and offered themselves as a succulent meal. Her hood eyes never left his face, watching him with the same intensity as she had when he stood naked in the center of the room.
Her lips formed a perfect bow, and he leaned over her, his hot shaft pressing against her hip, and she quivered at the sensation. She’d called him a horse, and while that was a wild comparison at best, he’d been flattered and didn’t want to frighten her more than she already was.
When he caught her lips with, caressing them with a gentle kiss that demanded every measure of restraint from him, her lips received him and returned the kiss with slow, smoldering movements. Her lips tasted as honeyed as he’d believed they would be. She squeaked when the tip of his tongue pressed forward, invading the warmth of her mouth, giving her a taste of what was to come.
One of his hands lingered on her shoulder, brushing her arm before reaching her full breast that he stroked with his fingertip. The luscious offering of her breasts was too much, and his kisses grazed her neck and chest before reaching her breast. His tongue traced a line of heat over the sweetness of her skin, sweet and salty as the finest mead, and if he could he’d drink on her all night. Her nipple tightened against his palm and he stroked it before replacing his palm with his mouth.
Under his intense licking and sucking, Tosia mewled and squirmed beneath him, as if she were fighting to leave and to get closer to him at the same time. As his tongue lapped at her tremulous skin, his hand slipped between them to explore the uncharted skin between her legs.
She gasped in his ear when his fingers found the cleft between her intimate petals, touching their warm velvet softness, skimming across her quivering thighs. When he moved his finger to rub between her womanly folds at her bud of desire, she arched off the bed. Her fingernails dug into his back, adding to his scars, and his hand became wet under his attentions to her unchartered treasure.
Shifting so his lips found hers, he breathed into her mouth.
“Ye are ready, lass. I am more than ready. I’ve been ready since I’ve met ye. I will be as gentle as I might, and the pain should last but a moment. Your heights will soon follow, this I vow.”
Then he pressed forward in a gentle movement, the pulsing, purplish head of his cock parting her in a slow, nearly-aching thrust. Her sheath accepted him more quickly than he anticipated, and her gasping became a bit-off cry once he embedded himself fully within her.
They were joined, and the quivering motions of her sheath on his iron-hard flesh sucked everything from him. He lost himself in her, kissing her lips and thrusting his hips as deeply into her as he could.
The first few thrusts drew more gasping cries from her, ones he tried to chase away with long kisses and tender licks of his tongue on hers. Soon, her gasps of surprise and ache ebbed, and her breathing changed into puffs and pants against his mouth. They found a steady tempo that bound their bodies together, and soon her hips rose and fell with his, welcoming him into her body.
She murmured his name into his lips until his need for her grew to a crushing crescendo. James closed his eyes as his penetrating desire roiled in his groin and spread to his entire body, a fire catching on kindling and spreading to ignite every part of him. His manhood pulsed and his ballocks clenched against him, and at his moment, he threw his head back, pressing his cock as far into her as he could, spilling his seed and roaring his climax from the deep within his chest.
He remained rooted to his place between her legs, a sensation of belonging and possession as he filled her thighs. His panting slowed, and when he finally opened his eyes, her burning hazel gaze caught him like a snare. Savoring the feeling of spent satisfaction for a moment longer, James dipped his head, kissed her with a light tease of her lips, then withdrew his dripping member to lie next to her on the bed.
His hand yet lingered on her breast, unwilling to fully separate from her. All the angst and rage he’d held inside had spilled with his seed, and for the first time in years, he had a sense of contentment he’d lacked with this woman who was now his.
Tosia’s head turned to the side and her gaze studied him. His fingers played absently with her breast.
“I did no’ hurt ye too badly?” he asked. She shook her head.
“No’ too badly. It ached, to be sure, a shocking and sudden pain, but it faded. ‘Twas replaced with something else. A peculiar sense of fulfillment.”
“I have an odd sense of fulfillment, too, but one borne of contentment,” he told her. “Nary a person has brought that to me in years, mayhap longer. Ye, Tosia, are the calm in my storm that I have so desperately needed.”
She ran her fingers through his shortened, damp hair. “Then perchance we are well met, milord.”
A lazy grin slipped over James’s lips.
“Och, lass. Well met indeed.”
