“Open my legs…” She repeated the three words, stunned to realize the pleasurable stirrings she’d noticed had swept even lower and now tingled in a long neglected place. A sensation that turned even more pleasing when he gently urged her knees wider apart and began lightly stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs.
“Oh, my,” she gasped, her blood rushing in her ears.
“Indeed, and that is good.” He eased her legs even wider. “Now breathe deep and simply feel.”
“I will try.”
“You can,” he told her, cupping the whole of her, massaging her with his palm, then trailing one finger slowly up and down her intimate center.
“Does this please you, lady?” He caressed her intently, tracing the length of her with slow, lazy strokes. “Shall I keep touching you this way?”
“Aye,” she gasped, her voice ragged.“Please.”
“Then open your legs as wide as you can,” he encouraged her. “There is no shame, my dearest. We are one now, joined by your priest and your ancients. I am yours, and you are mine. Wholly, and forever. And so, I wish to see and touch all of you. Here, and now, in this special night.”
“I want that, too,” she said, and another little gasp escaped her.
Then, to Marmaduke’s delight, she scooted forward until her bottom rested on the very edge of the seat, her hips rocking in a silent plea more eloquent than any spoken words.
“Be still,” he said, pressing his hand flush against her silken heat. “You will enjoy this more if you remain perfectly still, and open.”
“Ahhh…” she gasped, but then shut her eyes, finally letting herself relax.
Seeing her capitulation, he reached down to grip himself with one hand and used the other to pleasure her. He still traced the center of her, but now explored her more thoroughly, gently rubbing, then stroking and circling until she cried out her need.
His own release near, he tightened his hold on himself. As discreetly as possible, he began pulling, easing his own need, even as he stroked her ever more deliberately. Then, his own ease breaking, he circled one finger over her, his focused attention giving her the same shattering fulfillment.
“Dia,” she gasped, and fell back against the seat cushions.
His own body spent, Marmaduke slid his arms around her hips and rested his head against the soft warmth of her inner thigh. The sleek heat of her proved such a temptation, he nestled closer until his cheek rested against her.
Aroused anew, he touched his tongue to her.
The merest flicking at her sweetness.
Simple touches of the tip of his tongue to her tender flesh. So light he doubted she noticed, but intoxicating to him.
Indeed, the lady slept.
As would he, soon.
But first he wanted to hold tight to the bliss he’d found. A sated smile, wondrous in the peace and the contentment it brought, tugged at the corners of his mouth.
And all because his precious new wife wanted to show him the night sky, enjoy an ancient pagan rite.
In turn, he’d taken her to the stars, which is exactly where she’d needed to go.
And what a glorious journey it’d been.
Chapter 38
Many miles away, on the other side of Scotland, a new day dawned bright and crisp. Nary a ripple marred the glassy surface of Loch Duich, and a fine dusting of frost coated the mountains hugging its shores. Even Eilean Creag’s stout walls gave themselves quiet and unthreatening in the clear, blue-white light of the icy cold morn.
But inside those walls, the stronghold’s master shook with fury, and prepared himself to roar at any fool, man or beast, who dared to happen across his ire.
His hands clenched at his sides, Duncan MacKenzie, the Black Stag of Kintail, stood in his empty hall, frowning darkly at the sweetly scented layer of newly-strewn floor rushes, sheer roiling murder in his heart.
“Fergus!” he shouted, full aware none but the scrawny shouldered, impertinent seneschal bore responsibility for the hall’s tidy appearance.
