The Captive Heart (20 page)

I must bring some wine with me,
he thought.
My lambkin is yet frightened, but struggles to be brave. I will give her time. Perhaps I shall even let her sleep a brief time.
Coming down from the high board he seated himself by the fire, gazing into the crackling, leaping flames as they burned. “Wine!” he called out to no one in particular. And after a brief time a goblet was placed in his hand. “My thanks,” he said, looking up to see Fenella by his side. “Sit,” he invited her.

“You were in deep conversation with Alix earlier,” Fenella noted.

“She will be mine before morning,” the laird said. “She has agreed to it.”

Fenella nodded. “Be kind, my lord. Be gentle. Alix has suffered at a man’s cruel hands, and while she may have agreed, she will still be frightened.”

“She is to be my mistress,” he said.

Fenella nodded again. “Better you took her to wife, my lord.”

“I want no wife and she wants no husband,” Malcolm Scott answered his kinswoman. “It is an excellent arrangement. We have agreed to be open with each other should we find another who pleases us more. She will be the perfect mistress.”

“And what kind of an example is that to set for your daughter?” Fenella asked candidly. “Fiona believes you loved her mother so much that you can love no other.”

“Fiona is young, and will not see the change in the relationship between Alix and me,” the laird declared. “And she loves Alix, who is like a mother to her.”

“Fiona loves you. If she discovers you have taken Alix to your bed she will assume you love her,” Fenella pointed out.

“Have you not been nagging at me to take a woman?” the laird grumbled.

“I want you to take a wife, and Alix Givet is the wife for you. She is young enough to give you sons. She is educated and sophisticated enough to keep you from becoming bored with her. But she has also learned the lessons of loyalty to a husband, to clan, as Robena Ramsay did not. Alix will never betray you, my lord. She will never shame our name. She deserves better than to be your mistress.”

“Hush your mouth, Fenella. I want no wife, and Alix declares she will have no husband to hold dominion over her. She has agreed to my coming into her bed. The bargain has been struck!” He emptied his goblet and stood up. “I will bid you good night, kinswoman.” And he strode from the hall.

“I told you you wouldn’t get your way in this, my pretty schemer,” Iver chuckled, coming forward from the shadows to join Fenella at the hearth.

Fenella laughed. “Oh, yes, I will,” she said. “He will show her she has no need for fear, and she will respond to his passion. And then, Iver, they will fall in love, for they are two people who are meant to be together. They are already half in love, though neither knows it yet. But once he admits to loving her he will want her for his wife, for the thought of another having her will drive him mad.”

“We shall see.” Iver grinned his lopsided grin. “What else do you know will happen for certain, Fenella? Do you know you will soon be my wife?”

“Of course I do,” she surprised him by answering. “But only when the laird takes Alix to wife, Iver, my lad, will I take you for my husband. Now come and give me a kiss to seal our bargain.”

He pulled her up and kissed her heartily, a hand fondling her bottom as he did.

“Ah,” Fenella said, laughing again, “I can see you’ll be a lusty mate, which pleases me well, for we Scotts are lusty people, as I’m sure our lord is now proving.”

When Malcolm Scott had left the hall he went to his own bedchamber, where he stripped off his boots, his breeks, his leather jerkin, and his camise. Naked, he bathed himself with the water he poured into a small basin. Then, wrapping a piece of plaid about his loins, he left his chamber, walking down the narrow corridor to where Alix was probably now sleeping. There was an empty bedchamber next to his, and he would as soon as possible install her there as it had a connecting door.

Putting his hand on the door latch to her chamber he entered the room, barring the door behind him. There was a fire burning low in the hearth. He added wood to it so that the blaze burned brightly now. Then, walking to her bed, he tossed the plaid aside and climbed in next to her. She stirred as he drew her into his arms and kissed her lips gently. “Wake up, lambkin,” he murmured into her ear.

Alix slowly opened her eyes, and seeing his face before her, realizing she was being held in his arms, her heart leaped in her chest. “My lord!” she whispered.

“You did say I might come,” he reminded her.

“I know I did,” Alix answered.

“But now that I am here you are reconsidering,” he said.

She didn’t answer him, so he continued.

“This will not be rape, Alix,” the laird told her. “But you will never overcome your fears if you do not face them. You are a brave lass, for only a brave lass would have fled England in a blizzard. Now be brave for me, lambkin.”

“I don’t know what to do. What I should do,” she admitted.

He smiled warmly into her hazel eyes. “You will do what your body desires,” he said, “and you will let me guide you into the paths of passion, Alix. And you will not be fearful of telling me if something displeases you. Now, let us rid you of this garment you wear and then we will begin.”

“You want me naked?” she said nervously.

“I am naked,” he replied.

Alix’s eyes widened. What was the matter with her? Of course he was naked. Could she not see his smooth chest, his broad shoulders, and his sinewy arms? “Aye”—she nodded, feeling foolish—“you are, aren’t you?” Alix pulled her little night chemise off over her head and dropped it to the floor.

“Now,” he said, “we will become familiar with each other’s bodies.”

“How?” Her voice trembled.

He drew the coverlet back. “Like this,” he said as his eyes swept over her fair young body. The sweet breasts he had earlier caressed were even fuller, more beautiful, he thought to himself. Her waist was slender, but her hips were broader than he had imagined. Her plump mons was free of growth, to his surprise. Garbed she gave the appearance of being delicate, but seeing her naked he realized she was quite a sturdy lass. She would not break beneath his desire, which was beginning to exert itself. Her thighs were rounded and firm, as were the calves on her slim legs. “You are quite the loveliest lass I have ever beheld,” he told her.

While he had perused her so thoughtfully Alix had examined a male form for the first time. The chest, the strong arms, his shoulders she had previously noted. His torso was long, his belly flat, and beneath it a tangle of thick black curls that surrounded his manhood. Alix swallowed as she beheld
it
. It was pale in color, veined in blue, and long. But it lay quietly, seemingly innocent of any wickedness. She forced her eyes away from it to view his long hairy legs and large feet.

“Am I pleasing in your sight?” he asked her mischievously.

“I think I am prettier in form,” she answered him and he laughed.

“Aye, a woman’s form is fairer, I will agree, lambkin,” the laird said.

“What do we do now?” Alix asked him shyly.

“Sit up,” he said, “and undo your hair for me. When you are alone the plait will do, but when we are together as lovers I would enjoy your long hair.”

Alix sat up against the pillows and began to unbraid her honey-colored curls.

“Why is your mons like a little girl’s?” he asked her.

“The women of the court are taught to keep that part of their bodies hairless,” Alix explained to him. “Only peasant women have bushes to tend. I did not know men did.”

When she had finished undoing her long hair, he inquired of her, “Where is your hairbrush, lambkin?” and when she told him, he fetched it. Then, climbing back into the bed, he began to brush her hair with long, slow strokes of the brush.

She had not had anyone brush her hair since she had been a child, Alix thought. She had quite forgotten how pleasant it was and found herself almost purring. She did not see his smile as he finally laid the brush aside. Pressing her back, he spread her hair over the pillows, admiring it for a moment, then kissing her soft mouth slowly, deeply. Alix’s lips parted beneath his. Immediately his tongue darted into her mouth, sweeping about it, seeking her tongue to tease it with his. Alix was so mesmerized by the two intertwining digits she didn’t notice at first that one of his hands was caressing her belly until his fingers touched her mons and began to play with her nether lips.

“What are you doing?” she cried, breaking off their kiss, her head spinning with the sweetness she had been receiving.

“I want to touch you there,” he told her. “You need to be prepared to take my manhood within your sheath, lambkin.”

“Prepared?”
Now she was puzzled. Hayle simply had her assume the position he desired and thrust himself inside of her. What preparation could the laird possibly mean? “I don’t understand,” Alix told him.

“You are a tender creature, and you cannot easily receive my manhood until you are ready to receive it. Your husband used you like one animal would use another. He wished to harm you because you had wed him. I will not do that to you. Men do not, lambkin. You have love juices, and they must be encouraged to flow for me. Now be quiet, Alix, and trust me to give you pleasure. Can you do that, lambkin?”

Alix nodded. It was suddenly all very exciting, and it was certainly very new for her. He began to kiss her again, slowly, slowly, their mouths almost melting into each other’s. She sighed with delight when his mouth went to her breasts again as they had that afternoon. When he tugged upon her nipple, she felt a corresponding throb in the secret place between her legs.
“Yes!”
she heard her own voice whispering. She struggled with herself not to cry out and leap from the bed when his fingers gently played with her nether lips, when one finger pressed between them. To her great surprise she seemed to be wet. She flushed. Had she peed in her excitement? But no. As his finger played between her nether lips the moisture felt almost creamy in its consistency. And the finger suddenly touching a most sensitive spot, teasing at it, made her feel wonderful, not fearful at all. She sighed audibly.

He was hard. God help him! His cock was as firm as he could ever remember it being. He kept the sight of it from her, for he didn’t wish her to panic, which she surely would have. He was longer than he had been earlier and far thicker. Gently he moved his finger to the opening of her sheath and pressed it forward into her. He felt her stiffen and murmured against her ear, “Nah, nah, lassie, ’tis all right. Do I hurt you?”

Alix thought a moment. No. He was not hurting her. “Nay,” she whispered.

He moved the finger back and forth so that she would get used to the rhythm, and after a few moments she gave a little cry of surprise as she experienced a first burst of sweet pleasure from that finger.

“Oh!”
Alix exclaimed softly.

He laughed quietly. “You see?” he told her, and he withdrew the single finger, quickly replacing it with two fingers, which he moved back and forth once again.

“Oh! Oh!”
Alix cried out.

She was ready and while she tensed as he covered her body with his own, he soothed her with little kisses as he prepared to sheathe himself inside her. The laird positioned himself and pushed his cock forward. The portal gave way as he slid deep. Beneath him Alix was hardly breathing as she waited for the pain to engulf her. But there was no pain.

“Put your legs about me,” he instructed her.

Then she gasped, for when she did he moved deeper into her. And there was still no pain. He filled her full, but there was no pain even when he began to move upon her. The fingers of their hands were intertwining as his rhythm grew faster and faster. Alix’s eyes closed and pure instinct arched her body up to his every downward thrust. She found herself reveling in the sensations he was engendering within her. Her breath was coming in short hard pants, and she suddenly realized that she was experiencing pleasure. She had never before enjoyed such feelings as were now sweeping over her.

Alix cried out. “Don’t stop,” she begged him. “Oh, please don’t stop, my lord! I am in heaven!” And then, as the hard core within her began to burst, she sobbed, “Oh, sweet Holy Mother, I die!” And she shook with her pent-up release as his love juices exploded within her exciting body.

The laird rolled off of his lover, panting with his exertions. For a moment he couldn’t catch his breath, but then he did. Reaching out, he gathered the girl who had just given him such pleasure into his strong arms. To his distress Alix began to weep. She huddled against his chest, sobbing and sobbing and sobbing. Disturbed, he asked, “Did I hurt you? You should have told me! I said I would not harm you, lambkin.”

Hearing the distress in his voice, Alix quickly reassured him. “Nay, my lord. It was wonderful! I did not know! I never imagined! Now at last I am beginning to understand my mother’s love for my father, the queen’s devotion to the king.” She hiccupped, and her sobs began to abate.

He kissed the top of her head, relieved, and stroked her long hair as much to soothe himself as to soothe her. There was that elusive fragrance of hers again teasing at his nostrils. “I gave you pleasure,” he said simply. “I am glad.”

“Will we lie together every night now?” Alix asked him shyly.

“Except those nights when your moonlink is broken,” he told her. “I am going to move you into the bedchamber next to mine. It is larger, and there is a connecting door to my chamber. We are less apt to attract my daughter’s attention that way. You must be no less attentive to Fiona now that you are mine,” he said.

“Never, my lord! I love the child,” Alix answered him.

“Colm,” he said. “I am not your lord when we lay together. I am Colm, and you are my Alix,” the laird responded. “Let me hear my name upon your lips, sweet Alix.”