"Is there? Weel, I havenae heard it yet."
"Islaen, an I share a bed with ye, I will make love to you."
"That is nice to hear.” She turned on her side to look at him. “I thought ye might have lost interest because of the changes in me."
"Nay,” he rasped and sidled away from her, “but I willnae give into that interest."
"Why not?"
She was beginning to find it all very amusing, despite a stern self-scolding over such ill-timed levity. Nevertheless the way the large muscular Iain was almost running away from his small pregnant wife was amusing. Reaching out and stroking his thigh, she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling when he nearly leapt out of the bed. His extreme skittishness assured her that he did still want her, and it strengthened her determination to end their needless abstinence. She had no intentions of letting him deprive her of his passion, the one thing he gave her freely.
"Islaen, I could hurt ye or the bairn. Ye ken it weel."
"Nay, I dinnae."
"Then ye are being purposely blind."
"Nay, ye are. Did Tavis e'er leave Storm's bed?"
"Weel, nay, but..."
"My fither ne'er left my mither's either. I dinnae ken where ye get this notion."
"'Tis a reasonable one. S'truth, physicians have espoused it."
"Aye, they also bleed men with open bleeding wounds, taking more of what the poor soul has already lost too much of. Unless ye mean to toss me about, I cannae see that ye will hurt me. I ken that I might soon grow too full to find pleasure in it, or for ye to want to do it. Seems foolish to waste this time."
In the face of her calm, Iain found it hard to cling to his resistance. It seemed reasonable that she would know better than he did what she could or could not do. Knowing that his own need for her could be clouding his judgment, he struggled to stay firm in his decision on abstinence. He grimaced when she curled up to his side and he made no move to push her away.
"Considering what lovemaking entails, I cannae believe ‘tis fully safe,” he said and cursed the wavering of his convictions.
"Weel, so long as ye arenae trying to go in whilst the bairn is trying to come out..."
"Islaen!” he gasped.
"Wheesht, ‘tis true.” She sensed his weakening resolve and ran her hand over his chest. “Iain, the troubled time for the bairn is in the first three months, while his hold isnae strong. This bairn is weel set. T'would take more than ye would e'er do to shake him free and ye cannae reach him to harm him."
"Of course I cannae, but...” His words strangled to a halt as her tongue flickered over his nipples and, although he told himself to push her away, his hands burrowed into her thick hair.
Islaen smiled faintly sensing his surrender. She knew all she had to do now was convince him of the safety of making love so long as she was comfortable with it, and they did not get too rough. It was important for she knew how easily he could reclaim his former determination to abstain as well as feel both guilt and anger at her for losing it. Her smile widened as she thought of the perfect way to show him that making love could hurt neither her nor the child.
"Iain,” she said softly, trailing kisses down to his abdomen as she caressed his hips and arranged herself comfortably between his long legs, “I was with child when Fraser tried to rape me.” She decided that was probably true but, even if it was not, it fit in with his opinion of when conception took place.
"Jesu,” Iain breathed in shock, briefly distracted from the passion her caresses were stirring. “He was so rough."
"Aye. I was with bairn when MacLennon attacked us. He wounded me too, ye recall, and ye werenae verra gentle getting me to safety.” She leisurely kissed her way down one of Iain's strong legs.
It was hard to think when she was firing his blood so, but her words penetrated passion's haze and made sense. “And when Fraser nearly raped ye at the crofter's hut,” he murmured huskily, then suddenly sat up. “The blood on your thighs."
Not stopping her attentions she kissed her way up his other leg. “From cuts. Ye saw them yourself.” She turned her amorous attentions to his loins and felt him shudder as her tongue slowly stroked him. “And none of that hurt me or the bairn."
He found it impossible to think, let alone speak while her warm mouth and tongue caressed him so intimately, but managed to rasp, “Ye were lucky."
"Aye but I meant for you to see that ye couldnae e'er do worse to me than that. Nay, certainly not by making love."
Closing his eyes as he groaned with pleasure when her mouth engulfed him, he whispered, “Nay, not with that. Ah, God's beard, Islaen, go slow. Go verra, verra slow. I ache to savor the pleasure ye give."
A moment later she sat up to look at him. “Mayhaps we best let ye calm down a wee bit then.” When he grinned at her, she knew she had won, that she had succeeded in changing his mind.
