“I’ve never lived anywhere so comfortable,” Skye murmured as she walked over to the bookshelf that held several volumes.
Arran had mentioned he liked to read under the big window. Now, in her mind’s eye, she pictured him sitting in front of the fireplace with one of the books. The image made her smile.
Nellie smiled. “Aye, as I said, we are prosperin’ here.” Her eyes flicked to the basin on the dresser, and she frowned at its emptiness. “The meal will be served shortly. Let me get some ale to revive ye.”
Skye, now alone, walked to one of the chairs. She sat for a moment, not sure exactly what to do. She assumed she would wear the wedding dress to the feast, as there was nothing for her to change into. Then she stood up and took a closer look at her new chamber.
She looked out the window and saw her husband was no longer at the gate. Then she went back to the bed and ran her hand over the blanket, before sitting down.
Tonight, I’ll sleep with him.
Her face flushed, and heat bloomed in her core at the thought. Suddenly feeling restless, she stood up and walked to the chest of drawers, atop which sat a small wooden horse.
She picked it up and ran her fingers over the smooth wood, feeling the ridges in the horse’s mane and tail. She smiled as she admired the craftsmanship, but then suddenly, a large masculine hand covered hers.
“Put that down, Skye.” Arran’s tone was firm as he took the horse from her hands.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she remembered the violence of her stepfather when her mother overstepped his poorly defined bounds. She quickly stepped away from Arran.
“I’m… I’m sorry, Arran. Please forgive me,” she blurted out in a shaky voice. “It’s very beautiful… I just wanted to hold it.” She backed away until the back of her knees hit the mattress.
Arran’s face softened. “This horse was given to me by me faither. He said me maither treasured it. Her maither gave it to her, and Faither knew she would want me to have it.” He turned the horse over and over in his hands. “That’s all I have left of her.”
He paused, serious once more, and then said, “But we are one now, Skye. What is mine is yers.” He gave her the carved horse. “Ye can touch it any time ye wish.”
Skye walked back to him and accepted his precious gift. “Nay, Arran, nae mine. One day, ye will give it to yer bairns.”
Arran laughed. “Our bairns, ye mean? Have ye forgotten we are married?”
Skye laughed, but his words hit her hard.
Bairns.
She was dazed. She’d not thought much of what her life would be like after marrying Arran.
“Perhaps ye need a kiss to remind ye, then.”
He lifted her chin and cupped her face in his large hand. Something akin to a moan or a growl erupted from his throat, and then his mouth took hers.
His lips were warm and soft, and he used his tongue gently to open her mouth, which he immediately explored slowly and methodically. Skye, surprised at how pleasurable she found this way of kissing, responded with an exploration of her own.
She felt his hand leave her face and encircle her waist, and his other hand traveled down her back and cupped her buttocks. He continued to plunder her mouth as his hand gently squeezed her buttocks at first, and then with more urgency.
“Oh!” Skye squeaked.
But as the pressure increased, she purred, and the sound emboldened Arran. He broke their kiss, and she panted, trying to catch her breath. His lips trailed down her neck and across her collarbone, where he pulled down the sleeve to expose her shoulder.
“Skye, ye taste of the sweetest nectar, and I cannae… I cannae stop,” Arran whispered.
Skye threw her head back, welcoming his touch, his kisses, and moaned in ecstasy. She wantedmore.
“I daenae want ye to… Arran… I want…”
A primitive need had taken over her body and mind, and the world outside that chamber ceased to exist. Arran grabbed her thigh and lifted her leg to his waist, and she instinctively wrapped it around him tightly. He lifted her in his arms effortlessly, and they fell on the bed.
He reached down with both hands and pulled her dress up to her waist as she pulled his shirt over his head. He leaned down to kiss her again when a knock sounded at the door.
“Laird MacArthur, Lady MacArthur, the feast has begun!”
