Highland Moonlight (17 page)

She hated her own timidity, but could not voice an opinion.

“You did not seem to notice or care.”

“I could not speak of such things to you,” she admitted, her voice

whisper soft.

Alexander drew a deep breath. He guided her hand to his cheek and

turned his lips against her palm. “Mayhap ‘twould be a good time to try.”

A tingling heat raced down Mary’s arm. His gentleness brought a

weakness to her limbs. This was how she had expected him to be on their

wedding night. An ache of loss squeezed her throat together.

He held her hand atop his chest. The thick blanket of hair there felt soft

and springy against her skin. Her entire body grew shaky with longings new

and pleasurable.

“It should have been our wedding feast tonight,” he said in a subdued

tone.

So, he too, recognized the loss of so much that could not be replaced.

“‘Twas like a wedding feast,” she said, her tone hesitant. She ran her hand

over the heavy blanket of hair on his chest in a slow heady exploration she

had never attempted before. He felt warm and woolly, and she longed to rub

her cheek against the texture of the hair there.

His lips brushed her forehead. His fingertips ran up and down her

forearm.

Her mouth went dry. His hands so calloused by the practices of war,

felt good on her skin. Visions of his long fingers caressing her breasts were

a tempting torment tracing their way through her thoughts.

“Might I touch you where the bairn rests, Mary?”

Of late, he asked her that as though he were measuring how much the

babe was growing. “Aye.” Her voice did not wish to work and the word came

out little more than a whisper. She turned on her back. His large hand

covered the curve of her stomach exploring the resting place of his child.

“Have you felt him move yet?” His voice grew hushed as though he

feared he might disturb the babe, his eyes resting on the small roundness.

“Aye.” A tempting emptiness ached between her legs.

“Why did you not speak of it to me?”

Surprised by the question, she studied his face. “I-I did not know you

wished to know.”

“There is nothing I do not wish to know about you and the bairn.”

A sweet feeling of pleasure swept through her. She covered his hand

with hers. “‘Tis like capturing a moth within your hands and feeling its wings

beat against your skin but ‘tis deep inside,” she offered in a soft tone.

“Mayhap in another month you will be able to feel it too.”

He grew silent. His hand continued to cup her belly.

He would not turn against her again. She had to believe that. She

could not live with him, if she had to wonder if his every show of interest was

sparked by lust or true affection. “I will see to your leg before we seek our

rest, Alexander,” she said to distract herself.

Alexander pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned back

against the headboard. He bared his wrapped thigh for her as she rose

from the bed but kept the bedclothes spread over his lap. Of late, he had

become less blatant about his displays of nudity, and she realized she felt

less pressured because of it.

Mary unwrapped the heavy bindings from his thigh then removed the

cloth pad with which she had cushioned the wound. The injury, scabbed

over and bright pink around the edges, looked to be healing well.

“You did not have to bind it. ‘Tis almost healed.”

“‘Twould not close so well again should it break open, Alexander. ‘Tis

not knitted completely.” She rolled the bandages neatly then handed them

to him to set aside on a small table next to the bed.

“It has been a long while since I have been cared for with such

diligence,” he said as he twisted a stray curl that had escaped her braid

about his finger.

For half his life, he had been a warrior. How often during that time had

he had known the tenderness of a woman’s touch? “Is that not what wives

do, care for their husbands?”

“Aye.” Alexander leaned forward to brush her cheek with his lips.

Mary found it hard to draw a full breath for the harsh beat of her heart

drummed against her ribs prevented it.

“What would you have me do to care for you, Mary?” He rubbed his

beard-roughened cheek against her soft one.

“I am well cared for, Alexander.”

He smiled as he drew back to look down at her. He cupped her face in

his hands, his pale amber eyes alight with pleasure. His mouth, moist and

parted, molded to hers. The soft coaxing movement of his lips against hers

drained the strength from her limbs and her lips parted to taste and feel his.

She wanted to hold his mouth to hers for a longer time. As if Alexander

sensed that, his lips settled over hers. The slow gentle thrust of his tongue

between her lips brought heat to the most intimate parts of her body. His

tongue coaxed hers into a wet slithering dance that went on and on. He

tasted of wine, and his skin had a clean musky scent all his own. A strange

emptiness found its way between her thighs.

The warm touch of his large hand cupping her breast brought with it a

pleasurable feeling, then a wave of guilt and anxiety. She grasped his wrist

and turned her lips from his to murmur his name.

“Look at me, Mary,” Alexander urged.

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes held a gleam she had not seen

since they had first met. “I’m eager to be a husband to you. ‘Tis a natural

thing for a husband to touch his wife.”

She did not know what was natural, only that it made her feel

vulnerable and uncertain. She struggled to ignore the pleasure his touch

brought her.

“‘Twill never be as ‘twas before, Mary. I swear it.” His tone laced with

urgency, his hands moved in restless caresses up and down her arms.

“You’ve accepted my clan as your own, but what of your husband?”

Something in his face brought a breathless feeling beneath her ribs.

He was right. She could not live her life forever distrusting him. She had to

try to put the hurt behind her and forgive him.

“‘Tis a beginning we are speaking of, Alexander,” she warned him.

“Touching you, kissing you, holding you is all a beginning, Mary.”

The idea felt both thrilling and frightening to her. “‘Twould be the

holding I would be asking you to do first.”

A smile spread across his face causing a tide of color to storm her

cheeks with heat. “Come to bed,” he invited.

She was not sure she trusted the gleam that lit his amber eyes. Had

she agreed to more than just a touch, a kiss, and his arm about her?

She blew out the candles. The flickering light of the fire cast wavering

shadows across the foot of the bed where its meager light penetrated the

darkness. She slipped beneath the pelts. Alexander gave her no time to

agonize over her decision, but gathered her close against him and drew the

covers over her shoulder.

She grew weak at the intimacy of his touch as his hand followed the

curve of her spine and ran over the rounded curve of her buttocks pressing

her closer. Her heart beat against her ribs as his body fit against hers.

“I have wanted to hold you like this since we were first wed.”

He seemed content with only holding her so she relaxed somewhat.

“Will you not tell me what ‘twas I did that pleased you, Mary?”

Alexander coaxed.

She turned her face against his chest though he could not see the hot

color flooding it.

“How am I to please you if you do not tell me what gives you

pleasure?”

She found that an intriguing idea. “I did not think it mattered as long as

you were served.”

“Men are easily pleased, ‘tis more of a challenge for a man to please

his lass.”

His lass. Those two words sounded very possessive. “It pleases me

when you are gentle,” she said decisively. “And when you are not barking

orders at me.” She sensed his smile.

His hand moved with restless intent up and down her back, molding

her closer still. “Do you like to be kissed?”

“Aye.” Her voice sounded breathy and soft for she felt as though she

had run a long way and could not catch her breath. The heated maleness of

his body brought a lethargy to her lower limbs.

His lips brushed feather light against her forehead, her eyelids, her

cheeks, her chin, making her aware of the areas he avoided. She grew

weak with longing as his lips brushed hers in a teasing caress so light his

mouth barely touched hers. Mary placed a hand against his chest, too shy to

guide his lips to hers though she craved it.

Alexander’s tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip then touched the

parted surface between, and her lips opened to him. Her arms went around

his neck to urge him closer as his tongue thrust into her mouth with an easy

push. Their tongues intertwined in a slow sensuous meeting.

His hand explored the shape of her breasts through the linen fabric

covering them. Her nipples grew taut beneath his touch. Heat consumed

her.

She did not protest when he untied the drawstring of her shift and

reached beneath the fabric to cup her breast in his hand. His fingers felt so

natural touching her skin.

“‘Tis wicked, Alexander,” she murmured as his lips left hers to caress

her throat.

“Nay, Mary, ‘tis right and good.” His tongue traced the fragile edge of

her collarbone then moved lower.

Mary caught her breath in shock as his tongue circled her nipple. His

mouth, hot and wet, latched onto it. Pleasure flowed down her body in

rivulets to settle at her very core. She murmured his name as her fingers

combed through the thick hair at the back of his head. Her hands moved

restlessly across the broad width of his shoulders as he paid similar

homage to the other breast.

His lips came back to hers and instinctively she turned against him.

Her breasts nestled against the furry warmth of his chest. The texture of the

hair there felt rough against her sensitive nipples.

“‘Tis a dream to feel your skin against mine.” Alexander groaned as he

buried his face against her throat. His skin felt feverish. The hard heat of his

manhood pressed into her thigh through the fabric of the shift. She was

trembling, though she could not decide whether it was with longing or fear.

“Touch me, Mary, as I have touched you,” he murmured huskily as he

drew back.

Mary cupped his face in her hands and drew his lips to hers. She

pressed soft, inexperienced kisses to his lips then hesitantly pushed her

tongue into his mouth.

He made a sound deep in his throat like a groan and his hands

molded her closer as his tongue moved in eager response to hers.

Her hands followed the shape of his face, his shoulders, then found

the woolly breadth of his chest. The hair there, though not as thick, felt like

lambs wool. Her lips tasted the warmth of his throat. She slid downward

and rubbed her cheek against the thick pelt of hair on his chest, as she had

wanted to do earlier. She explored the texture of his nipples with her

fingertips. Alexander shuddered as she touched her tongue to one of them.

He pulled her upward and caught her lips with his. She was surprised to

find he was trembling as badly as she was.

His hand followed the curve of her hip easing the fabric of the shift

farther down. He caressed the rounded curve of her stomach exploring with

tender attention the small ripening of her shape. He guided Mary onto her

back and slid downward to press soft kisses on her stomach.

Mary sensed a change in the feverish passion he displayed as he

touched her. The empty ache between her thighs grew rampant as the

moist heat of his lips and tongue lathed her skin. His hand slid up the

inside of her thigh beneath the useless fabric still encasing her legs.

As he approached the most intimate areas of her body, she grew

suddenly fearful of taking that last irrevocable step, and clamped her legs

together around his hand and caught his wrist.

Alexander slid upward, his lips finding hers. His breathing ragged, he

cupped her cheek.

“‘Tis only my intent to give you pleasure.” He drew her against him, his

hand tracing a searing path down her back to mold her tightly against him

once again. His fingers followed the curve of her spine then stopped, his

body going still as his fingertips brushed over her skin.

He withdrew so suddenly, Mary shivered from the loss of heat. “What

is it, Alexander?” Confused, disoriented, she sat up and followed his

progress to the fire.

He lit a tallow candle and approached the bed.

The closer the light got the more exposed she felt. She grasped the

fabric of the shift and held it against her.

His features appeared harsh in the dull glow of the light, his gaze a

pale wolfish gold. “Come here, Mary.” Her heart skipped a beat as he

grasped her wrist and pulled her to the edge of the bed then to her feet. He