“But I dinna ken what—how—”
“I dinna expect aught from ye, Saoirse. I dinna expect ye to ken what to do or to ken what ye want. If ye’re curious, ask me, wee one. If ye dinna like something, tell me. I ken I’m aulder than ye, and I have more experience than ye. But that doesnae mean there is aught wrong with ye nae kenning what I do. I dinna want ye to be nervous around me.”
“I dinna want to disappoint ye because I dinna ken what to do.”
“Ye willna disappoint me.”
“I’m sure ye’re used to—”
“I’ve been as good as a monk for the past three years. There’s been too much to deal with to consider ma own pleasure. And before that, I had arrangements that suited me and the women I was with. But never have I kept a leman, and I never will. The experience I have isnae the kind a mon wishes to share with a wife.”
When Saoirse appeared morose, it confounded Magnus why the conversation was deteriorating further when he hoped to ease her worries.
“Why does that upset ye?”
She shook her head, miserable.
“Saoirse, dinna hide from me. It pains me that ye feel ye canna trust me.”
“I trust ye completely, Magnus.”
“I willna push ye to share yer inner thoughts. They’re yers alone, but I wish ye to share them. We canna tell if we suit if we hide things from one another.”
“This is a lot for one day. It’s a lot for a few sennights.”
Magnus nodded and withdrew his arms from around her waist. He was unprepared for her to grasp his leine and pull him toward her. She rested her head against his chest, her arms caught between their bodies. He wrapped his arms around her again.
“Are ye one of those men who thinks he canna enjoy pleasure with his lady wife? Would ye seek it elsewhere?”
Magnus froze. What he said a moment ago came back to him, and he realized how she’d interpreted it. He should have remembered that the Sinclair women would be honest with their daughters about what a loving marriage should involve in and out of the bedroom.
“When I said ma experience isnae what a mon wants with his wife, I didna mean I want less with a wife. I meant there is a type of intimacy a mon should only share with his wife, a woman he cares for deeply. Things he wishes to only share with a partner, someone he holds more dearly than anyone else. They may be the same acts, but they’re special with a wife.”
“Are there things ye wouldnae do with a wife that ye would with other women?” Saoirse continued to lean against him. She found more of her wavering confidence by not having to look at Magnus while they talked.
“How much has yer mother talked to ye aboot what happens between men and women?”
“I havenae done any of it, but I dinna think there is much I dinna ken aboot what can happen.”
“Is there something in particular ye think I wouldnae want with ye? That I would seek elsewhere?”
“I can think of a few.”
It was Magnus’s turn to blush. It only made his mind run wild with images of them stripped naked in his chamber at home. When he looked toward the cave’s entrance, he pictured them coupling on the beach and even in the almost always frigid North Sea. He thought about the tub that awaited him here at the keep. He prayed his sporran kept her from feeling the poleaxe beneath his plaid.
“If we marry, I wish to explore all those things with ye. But I will never force ye to accept aught ye dinna want or enjoy.”
“I dinna think ye’re the type of mon to insist that it’s yer right to do as ye wish with ma body.”
“Never.”
“And if what I wish to learn scandalizes ye?”
“Then I’m a vera lucky mon to have a wife who desires me so.”
“Ye dinna think me wanton to speak so brazenly?”
“I’m thinking many things right now, but none of it is negative. I’m grateful ye can talk to me openly aboot this.”
