For a moment she felt as if she were drowning, but desire is communicative as Arabella was quickly discovering. She could not stop herself from wrapping her arms about his neck to draw him even closer, realizing even as she did that she liked the feel of his hard, masculine body against hers. She was unable to resist meeting him kiss for kiss, her lips becoming more skilled with each passing minute than she had ever thought them to be. Where earlier she had fought against the rising tide of excitement within her own body, she now no longer struggled against the inevitable. Her husband had not lied to her. There was pleasure in passion, and Arabella realized, though it did surprise her a little, she wanted that pleasure.
He sensed this end to the hostilities between them, and it but fueled his own hunger to once again possess her. The firm flesh of her young breasts was like a magnet, drawing him to them, binding themselves to him. He covered them with quick, hot kisses. His mouth closed over the nipples, suckling upon them, scoring them lightly with his teeth, inciting her to dig her fingernails into the nape of his neck even as she murmured her obvious contentment of his actions.
His lips strayed below, crossing her torso, causing her to draw her breath in sharply, particularly when his tongue began to slowly trace an irregular pattern across her tingling, shivering flesh. He rubbed his face into her belly, inhaling her fragrance. Then suddenly he was kissing the curve of her jawline, his lips moving down her neck to bury themselves into the hollow of her throat, where he growled low as her very pulses pounded wildly beneath his mouth, even as she turned her head to nip sharply at his earlobe.
Why, she wondered in a brief moment of clarity, why had she been so fearful of this marvelous wildness? She had not known! She had not known! Arabella almost purred her approval as he probed once more into her yet tender sheath, moving rhythmically upon her with careful, measured strokes which soon set her whimpering with frustration, for the man-root she had feared too large but minutes ago now seemed not large enough.
Watching her from between half-closed eyes, the earl saw the subtle changes in her face even as passion caught her in its thrall. He smiled with satisfaction. “All right, lovey,” he murmured softly to her, “I’ll take ye home now!”
Arabella felt as if she had been swept up into a fiery maelstrom. She could feel the powerful thighs pressing against her thighs as if he were guiding her. She managed to open her eyes for a moment, and the sight of him above her made her shiver, though whether from fear or passion she was not certain. He appeared so fierce, so savage in this possession of her. Her head was whirling, and she closed her eyes once more. She was suddenly and most acutely aware of a strange feeling that was beginning to permeate her from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.
She felt like a child chasing a bright, yet elusive butterfly. There was something she wanted badly, but she did not know quite what it was. Arabella’s body caught the rhythm meted out by her husband. As they moved together in their wild passion, a fullness began to build within her, overwhelming her, almost suffocating her in its intensity.She wanted it!She did not understand what it was that she wanted, and surely she was going to die from the unbelievable sweetness flooding her body, her mind, and her very soul—but she cared not!She wanted it!
Satisfied that his young bride had at last attained the full perfection of passion, Tavis Stewart took his own release once more. Pleasured, he drew Arabella into the comfort of an embrace, and was amused when she sighed deeply and fell quickly into a quiet sleep. He grinned to himself. The lass was either going to kill him or keep him the happiest man in all of Scotland, he thought. He was not sure that he was ever going to get enough of his adorable wee English wife, but he did know that this marriage, made in haste and anger, would be well-consummated before he and Arabella appeared in the Great Hall of Dunmor Castle tomorrow morning. Knowing innocence made wise, the earl took his rest while he could.
When he awoke it was yet dark, and by the chill permeating the room, he knew the fire to be low, if indeed it had not gone out entirely. Arabella lay next to him, curled like a small cat against his side, the warm puff of her breathing soft against his shoulder. Gingerly the earl moved away from her, sliding his big frame from the bed. He padded across the floor to the fireplace, where the coals still glowed with a deep orange light. Kneeling, he laid a fresh log upon them and then fed the coals small bits of tinder until the fire flamed up once more, the blaze spreading a cheerful golden glow and a friendly warmth throughout the room.
“Tavis?”
He arose at the sound of her voice and returned to their nuptial bed. “The fire was about to go out, my love,” he told her, and he cradled her within his arms.
“Will Lona and Flora come home today?” she asked him sleepily.
“Aye,” he said.
“I have not yet spoken to Lona about conditions at Greyfaire under Sir Jasper’s rule, nor have I had any word of my mother. She must surely be near her time.”
He had to tell her, Tavis Stewart realized.Now.Before the morning, when Lona would return. There was no time left. His arm tightened about her. “Lona did indeed bring word of yer mother, Arabella,” he began, and felt her tense against him. “Ye must nae be angry at Lona,” he quickly continued. “I would nae let her tell ye lest it spoil our joy in Ailis’ wedding to Rob. Can ye understand that, lassie?”
She nodded, a sinking feeling suddenly welling up in the pit of her stomach.Mama!The word echoed in her brain, and she knew even before he said the terrible words.She knew!
“Yer mother is dead, Arabella, and the bairn wi’ her.” He let her digest his words, and then when she said nothing, he continued. “Sir Jasper would nae allow her to communicate wi’ ye, but Father Anselm, and yer good FitzWalter, saw that Lona was sent to ye wi’ yer own little mare on her death. Yer mother wanted it, and she wanted ye to know that she loved ye, and hoped ye’d forgie her.”
It was then that Arabella began to weep. Great, tearing, gulping sobs of raw anguish that almost broke Tavis Stewart’s heart.“Forgive her?She wanted me to forgive her? Why should she need my forgiveness, Tavis? She saved me from that dreadful man. I do not believe for one moment that she really loved him. She was lonely after my father’s death, and she was incapable of managing without a man to tell her what to do.”
“Yer nae like her, are ye?” he observed wryly.
She looked up at him, her eyes like rain-washed gems with her sorrow. Then she shook her head slowly and said simply, “Nay.”
He hugged her close against him, and she began to vent her sorrow once more while he crooned soft words and phrases of comfort to her. Finally her grief seemed to abate, to his relief, for he was quite soaked with her tears.
“I am alone now,” she said.
“Ye hae me, lassie,” he answered quietly.
She looked at him again. A solemn, thoughtful look. He was a good man, this great border lord who had stolen her away from Greyfaire, wed her in anger, and then this night initiated her into womanhood with such overwhelming tenderness and care. Lifting her face to him, she said softly, “Kiss me,” and as his lips touched hers with gentle passion, she was overcome with sadness once more. Her arms wound about her husband’s neck and she wept again. How fortunate she was to have Tavis Stewart! Why should she be so blest when her sweet and simple mother had been so curst?
And as if he could see her very thoughts, the Earl of Dunmor said comfortingly, “Dinna think on it, lassie. Yer gentle mam is safe in Heaven wi’ yer father now, and I suspect she is far happier there wi’ him than here wi’ out him.”
“This is all the fault of Sir Jasper Keane,” Arabella said, and suddenly her voice was hard.
“Aye,” the earl agreed, “and ye may be certain, my wee English wife, that the devil will pay for his misdeeds. I’ll see to that, I promise ye.”
“Youmustsee he does, Tavis Stewart, for there are but two people upon whom I can rely in this world. You and me.”
In the months to come, Tavis Stewart would remember his bride’s words with growing foreboding. For the moment, however, he was content to love her sorrow away.
PART TWO
