After watching the houppelande fall around her pretty feet he studied her. Her night rail was no more than a short shift, revealing a great deal of her lovely legs. There was also something vaguely different about her but he could not pinpoint it. It did not help him to think when he was so attracted, his loins tightened painfully and his hands itched to bury themselves in her thick, hip-length hair.
For such a tiny girl she had a real skill for heating his blood. It was going to be very hard to keep that in control. Even harder for a large part of him did not want to control it, wanted to savor it to its fullest. The need for a woman, any woman, indiscriminate as it was, had been easy enough to control. What Islaen instilled in him was all mixed up with who she was, her looks, her character, even her smell. It was not easy to dispel it. In truth, it was beginning to prove impossible.
"I ken that my night rail isnae fitting for a lady, but Meg has made some more suitable ones,” she murmured as she fumbled to unlace her shift and felt color flood her cheeks even as her heart beat against the wall of her chest in growing agitation.
Realizing the girl was about to strip before his very eyes, Iain croaked, “'Tis no matter, lass. We can keep the candle snuffed."
He felt close to panic and actually thought of bolting from the room no matter how foolish that would look. Unfortunately, his body was not obeying his mind's frantic urgings to get away. It intended to stay where it was, intended that he should see if her image fit the one that had recently haunted his dreams.
"That willnae help, sir. Ye will still be aware of my deceit. Dinnae fear to hurt my feelings. I will understand if ye cannae bear it. Ye see, I am weel aware of my ugliness. ‘Tis why I have hidden it. I couldnae bear to reveal my oddness to the world."
She let her shift fall, her folded arms all that kept her from complete exposure as the loosened top draped over them. Iain stared speechless at the full ivory breasts she revealed, the pink tips hardening as he watched. Forcing his hungry gaze from such beauty, he searched for the defect she spoke of. He almost hoped for some startling mar so as to divert his mind from the lushness within reach of his lips. Aside from noting that the rest of her was still very tiny, he found nothing. His gaze returned to her breasts although he had intended to look at her face. Other than a few faint freckles that he found delightfully alluring, she was perfection. Groaning, his hand found its way to one of those full firm breasts that almost seemed too much for her slight frame as if it had a mind of its own.
His mind screamed its warning of the danger he now faced but he heeded it not. He felt spellbound. It seemed as if there was no part of his body that did not ache for her.
The feel of her warm silken breast beneath his hand made him shake with want. He knew he could not pull back now, could not grab at some semblance of sanity. All he could do was touch her, savor the feel of her and pray that she would stop him, even flee. A small part of his passion-fogged mind reluctantly admitted that there was little chance of that. She did not seem to see the danger she was in.
Trying to speak even though his touch was sending pure fire shooting through her veins, Islaen croaked, “Ye see? I grew all out of proportion. There is nay a need to pretend; I will truly understand if ye cannae abide such an oddity for a wife."
"Oh, God,” was all Iain managed to say as he dropped the tankard in his other hand and reached out to cup her other breast.
Whatever reaction she had anticipated, it was not this. Touching them as he was, his fingers toying with the hard tips, seemed to indicate that he was not repulsed. Nonetheless, there was an odd look upon his face, a strange fire in his eyes that turned them green, and a tic in his cheek that she was having trouble deciphering, especially with a mind that was rapidly disfunctioning as the heat in her body increased.
"Iain,” she gasped as one of his hands moved down to her stomach, pushing her folded arms down as well. “Will ye say naught? Are we still to be wed?"
In the grip of a force he could not fight, Iain simply reiterated, “Oh God."
His mouth was drawn to her and his tongue flicked over each taut nipple. Islaen's hands jerked up to grasp his shoulders in a natural reaction to the shaft of desire that careened through her. That action pulled them free of the light shift which quickly joined the houppelande at her feet. Diverted for an instant, Iain's gaze moved over her in pure white hot greed. He was swamped with desire as he noted her tiny waist, slim gently rounded hips, slender well-formed legs and the wine red triangle at the juncture of her beautiful thighs. His hands gripped her small waist and he tugged her closer.
"M'God, Islaen,” he groaned before his mouth closed over the beckoning tip of one full breast.
Islaen's knees buckled as waves of pleasure melted her. She made no sound as he tossed her down on the bed and partly covered her body with his own. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue ravishing her untried mouth. The hair upon his chest further excited her breasts while his hands searched out every curve and hollow. Her hands moved over his back feeling the tensed muscles as she fell beneath the power of his fierce uncontrollable passion. A flicker of sanity came when she felt him probing for entry but it did not gain strength fast enough to stop him. Crying out softly, she gave him her innocence. In payment he gave her ecstasy, swiftly taking her to the heights where he met her in the delirious fall into desire's abyss.
For several moments they lay silently entwined, their breathing growing less harsh and their rapid heartbeats slowing to normal. Islaen was surprised to find that the weight of him felt quite nice, not light by any means but nothing she would not gladly bear, even enjoy. A tiny voice in her head murmured something about sin but she easily ignored it. This was the man she would marry in hours or, at least, she hoped so. She wondered if she were being presumptuous by assuming he did not find her odd shape repulsive just because of what had occurred. According to Meg and a good many others, a man was not overly choosey about what he lay with if the urge was strong enough.
Iain was mortified. He had gone half mad. The problem was, he was feeling so inclined again. Worse, he had spilled his seed into her and he had the feeling that that would be hard to control as well. With that dismal thought he eased their embrace slightly and looked at her unaware of the tortured look in his eyes, a look that made Islaen think all her fears confirmed.
Islaen stared at him feeling her heart contract. “Ye cannae really abide it, can ye. I had feared as much."
Silently cursing herself and fighting tears, Islaen wished she had not come to his room. She had not saved herself anything. He had shown her what they could have together and would now take it away. The very worst of her fears had become reality. Shifting beneath him, she moved to flee but he held her still.
With a sigh, Iain put aside his own fears. Someone had done a very good job of giving the girl the ridiculous idea that she was ill-formed. It was important to rid her of that yet he was not at all sure how he could.
"Islaen, ye are not odd and certainly not ugly. Where did ye come by such an idea?"
"But I am all out of proportion. ‘Tis not right to be fat in one place yet so skinny everywhere else."
"Ye are small, not skinny.” His hand touched her thigh and lingered. “There is flesh enough to draw a mon's touch. Who has given ye the idea that ye look odd or ugly?"
"Meg says I look a cow, all udder and little else,” she replied in a small voice.
"I wouldnae hurl a cow to the bed and leap upon it. Aye. ‘Tis true that ye carry more than t'would be thought right for such a wee lass but ‘tis far from ugly.” His hand moved to her breasts.
"Oh,” she breathed as his touch restoked the banked fires within her. “I dinnae mind them when ye do that, Sir MacLagan."
He bit down a laugh. “I think ye can call me Iain now. Little one, every mon here would love to be where I am now, touching such perfection. Aye, they are full but not too much despite the slightness they adorn. To then come down and clasp a waist that I can span with my hands is a true delight.” His hands moved along with his words. “This gently rounded backside feels exquisite in my hands as do these slim hips. Och, lass, these slim thighs leave a gap at their top that fair begs a mon to move in. Meg is a jealous cow."
She stared at him in speechless wonder. There was no hint that he did not mean exactly what he said. For reasons that eluded her he seemed to find the body she had kept hidden so long of interest. Doubt still lingered, however, for she could think of no reason for Meg to lie to her. Then again she could think of no reason for Iain to lie to her either. She wanted to believe he found her fair to look upon, but for too long she had been thinking otherwise. Islaen found her thoughts growing decidedly confused and decided to get back to the matter at hand.
