Chapter Fifteen
Late the next afternoon, in the much-mussed four-poster bed of the One-Eyed Hare Inn’s Scottish Night bridal chamber, Lucian, if not his bride, decided they’d tupped enough.
Leastways, they’d ravished each other enough for one full night and most of the next day.
He did want to sire children on Melissa and if they kept on like this, his best ‘Highland bits’ be worn off.
Never in all his years had he made love to a woman so many times in such few hours, really.
He just couldn’t seem to get enough of her.
And each time he spent himself, collapsing on top of her, it seemed he hardly blinked and his damned manhood was again raging hard and aching to be plunged deep, deep inside her.
Equally maddeningly, he couldn’t stop kissing her. She was a heady, provocative vixen and he almost wondered if she’d spelled him.
As a good Highlander, he knew such magic existed.
He bluidy well knew it, for hadn’t they met through the machinations of a meddlesome crone?
Sakes, he could still see the old woman’s flashy red plaid shoelaces. The twinkle in her bright blue eyes would stay with him all his days. He could even hear her cackle, though he had to admit it was wholly without malice. Whatever she’d done to bring them together, she’d meant well.
She wished them only good, he was sure.
He certainly wasn’t complaining. Still, it was uncanny how she popped up out of thin air.
The gods help him if she should appear now.
He and Melissa were gloriously naked, as they had been pretty much since entering this room last night, after their marriage declaration ceremony at the inn’s standing stones.
The only exception had been very early this morning when he’d dressed to nip downstairs for a hamper of food. Breakfast viands and enough other good Scottish fare to last them for lunch and dinner, and any snacks they might want in-between. That necessity aside, they’d indulged their hunger for each other.
He wanted her again now, but she was sleeping.
Enjoying a well-deserved rest. Even so, she tempted him. In her slumber, she’d rolled onto her side, drawing up one knee, and so freeing the whole of her womanly sweetness to his view. He shouldn’t look, he knew. Madness waited there, his fierce craving for her roaring to life each time he peeked.
To his shame, that had been more often than he wished to admit.
As a result, he found himself pacing the lovely room, hard as granite and aching. So he went into the little bathing recess and, hoping not to waken her, stood before the wash basin and splashed icy Scottish water on his sore Scottish cock.
Aye, his bonnie bride would be the end of him.
She was too damned desirable.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, seeing to his relief that she’d shifted her position again. And praise all the gods and ancients, this time an errant bed cushion had tipped over and courteously hid her womanly charms from view.
Lucian exhaled, pulled a hand down over his chin.
“Am I wicked?”
Lucian jumped, then spun about to find her sitting up in the bed.
Afternoon light slanted through the windows, gilding her hair and – he should have known – falling just as dangerously across her full, round breasts. Naked, naturally. And with lots of good and cold Scottish air also pouring into the room, her pert pink nipples were pleasingly puckered. Enough ‘p’ words to damn him.
Pert, pink, and pleasingly puckered.
He stared at her, all sensible thought rushing south to gather in his undisciplined loins. He couldn’t even recall her question. Only that he’d whipped around to see her in the bed, a bare-breasted she-goddess in all her lush, beckoning glory.
“So I am wicked.”
