Coloring slightly, Islaen murmured, “I have ne'er been without it. Nay,” she protested as they prepared to help her into her lacy night rail, “let me wash up first."
"But ye bathed ere ye dressed."
"I ken it, Meg,” Islaen said as she hurriedly washed up, “but I have danced a lot and t'was most warm."
"'Tis a pity we could not find you chambers more suited to a wedded couple,” the queen remarked, glancing around.
"It doesnae matter,” Islaen demurred as she dried off and the women started to dress her. “Sir Alexander and my kin surround us and we are very near the married quarters. I am nay sure when we travel to Caraidland but I think it will not be long from now.” She sat still as Meg brushed her hair. “I hear Caraidland is a verra fine keep, strong yet comfortable to live in."
Although that prompted the queen and her lady to chat quite amiably, Islaen gained little real information about her husband's home and kin. Like many ladies of the court, their interest was in gossip about things that Islaen felt were unimportant or not really her business at all. It was somewhat disappointing.
"Here come the men,” the queen announced and giggled much like a young girl.
Despite the fact that the men were kin, her husband and ones she knew, Islaen blushed deeply when they made their somewhat rowdy entrance. As she and Iain were placed side by side in the bed and given goblets of wine, Islaen thought crossly that her brothers Duncan and Robert were the worst of the lot. The more she blushed the worse they got. As soon as she and Iain were alone she downed half her wine in an attempt to ease her embarrassment.
She was distracted from thoughts of revenge against her brothers when Iain left the bed. When he presented her with a supply of sponges she blushed and finished off her wine. Now the lie she had to live would truly begin.
Without saying a word she went behind the screen that had been brought to supply her some form of privacy. Grimacing, she did as Iain had instructed. This once she would do exactly as he had said. It would aid her in her deception to know as much as possible about the whole matter. From what Meg had found out for her Iain would not really know whether she was using the sponges or not, but Islaen wished to be sure. Still blushing, she slipped back into bed unable to look at Iain.
Feeling guilty for what he asked of her, Iain sighed and pulled her into his arms. “Islaen,” he began.
"Nay, dinnae speak on it.” She feared she would reveal the deceit she plotted if they talked on the matter too much.
Running his fingers down the laced front of her gown he murmured, “This is lovely but I think I like the other better."
"The other isnae a lady's night rail."
"'Tis simpler.” He began to slowly undo her lacings.
"Ye didnae drink your wine,” she squeaked.
"Why so tremulous, lass?” He brushed light kisses over the delicate lines of her face. “Ye are a maiden no longer."
"Aye but last eve was, weel, different. We just went about it. T'was not so planned."
"Lovemaking is planned more oft than otherwise especially atween a mon and his wife."
"I ken it. Life and work and all get in the way. T'will take a wee bit of time to get used to it though."
She trembled when he gently removed her gown, then rather callously tossed it away. When he pulled her body close to his she moaned softly. The feel of their skin touching set her blood running hot. She smoothed her hands over his broad back, loving the feel of smooth skin stretched tautly over firm muscle.
When he kissed her, she clung to him. Her lips parted willingly when his tongue nudged at them, begging for entry. Daringly she parried the thrust of his tongue. His soft growl was so clearly one of approval that she grew even more bold. She quickly discovered that joining in the lovemaking was very exciting. When Iain suddenly pulled away she stared up at him a little groggily, astounded at the power of a mere kiss.
"Ye are a verra fast learner, lass,” he rasped as he fought to retain some control over the desire she stirred in him.
"And is that good?” she asked in a husky whisper, moving her hands slowly over his slim hips.
"Ye willnae hear me complain,” he murmured against her throat as his stroking hands sought her breasts.
"How nice,” she managed to say before she found it impossible to talk clearly.
A little saner than he had been the first time, Iain was able to appreciate the desire he stirred in her. He was able to fully realize what a passionate woman she was, unrestrained and more than willing to give as well as take. Simply thinking of all he could teach her for their mutual enjoyment sent his passions soaring. She was a treasure and he knew he had only begun to discover her full worth as a lover.
Islaen cried out softly when his tongue flicked over the aching tip of her breast. She bore the teasing strokes of his tongue for as long as she could, then buried her hands in his thick hair and pressed his face closer, silently urging him to end his game. When he finally answered her plea, drawing the swollen tip of her breast deep into his mouth, her soft cry of delight held a note of relief. Her body arched against his as each draw upon her breast seemed to send heat straight to her loins.
She welcomed the touch of his hand when it slid between her thighs. It was not really enough, however, even though she suddenly realized that his skilled touch could bring her body the release it ached for. Islaen sought to break the control she sensed he exercised, her hands moving over him in an impassioned search for a place where her touch would end that control. A small part of her passion-fogged mind expressed shock over her wantonness but she easily ignored it.
Iain shuddered and groaned when her long delicate fingers trailed up his inner thigh, then curled slowly around his engorged manhood. He buried his face in her breasts and trembled as she stroked him, but knew he had waited too long to enjoy her touch. Pulling her hand away a moment later, he drove into her. Feeling her body shudder beneath him he gritted his teeth and gathered up a few shreds of his tattered control, holding himself still as he looked down at her.
