And this time, she kissed him back, drinking in the feel of him. She had wanted to do the same back in his chambers. But instead, she had found herself so overwhelmed by everythingthat he demanded from her she could do nothing but let herself be swept along with his desires.
He slipped his hand beneath the covers, moving closer to her, planting one arm on the other side of her so that there was nowhere she could squirm away to. As if she would have. She reached up tentatively, touching his chest, feeling the pound of his heartbeat beneath his tunic. Oh, she wished she could tear it off and toss it aside so she could feel him even closer…
But instead, she sensed his fingertips along the inside of her thigh, her legs opening to welcome him just like they had before.
“I think ye’ve earned yer pleasure this time, Innes,” he murmured against her mouth, drawing her bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it lightly to draw loose a sigh of pleasure.
His fingers, this time, moved with a practiced ease, parting the petals of her sex as they sank inside of her. Her body was accustomed to him now, prepared for the spinning pleasure that coursed through her when he laid hands on her. It was all she could do not to forget entirely where she was as he drew the sensation to the surface once more.
And this time, it moved quickly, the want inside of her, as though her body was all too aware of how easy it would be for him to take it back if he wanted to. His tongue was soft against hers, speaking into her mouth a new language that she was keen to learn every word of. The ease with which he guided her, taking control of her pleasure like it was nothing but what she deserved, she knew she could not help herself.
Her hand clasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer still, half-wishing that he would entangle himself with her beneath the covers and give her all that she had been imagining since he had kissed her in that chapel…
Her hips were rising now against his hand, and he moved the other beneath the covers, pinning her lower belly to thebed as he continued to move his fingers within her. Their breath mingled, hers growing more erratic and needy with every moment, her body rising and rising like a tide on a stormy night, so close to breaking over the shore she could think of nothing else but?—
She gasped against his mouth as she felt the sudden rush of pleasure getting the better of her, her ankles crossing as her thighs closed around him. Her skin prickled, the heat rushing from her neck to unspool all the way across her body. Her mouth parted against his, and she flickered her eyes open, just long enough to see the look on his face as he drank her in. A grin curled up his lips, clearly enjoying the sight of her so utterly and completely lost to the pleasure that he was now gifting her.
“Rest, wife,” he whispered as he withdrew his hands from her body, pulling the covers up almost chastely over her panting form.
Even though she was not undressed, she could not help but feel entirely exposed. More than just a physical sensation, but something deeper, more profound, something that she was not sure she should have been in such a hurry to share with him.
He leaned down to brush his lips across her temple, and she felt her eyes growing heavy again. The excitement of the day just past had rendered her tired beyond belief, and, as sleepiness rose to overtake her, she swore that she would have a better chance of making sense of it all in the morning.
Chapter Eight
Lachlan lingered in the doorway longer than he knew he should. By all the saints, he knew that he should have been with his men, doing something, anything other than watching Innes as she slept.
But he could not find it in him to retreat to his chambers again, not after what had happened last night. The shock of panic and fear he had felt when he’d seen her sprawled on the floor like that—it had been illuminating, to say the least. In that moment, he’d have done anything in his power to bring her back, to hear her voice again. He might have loathed the Andersons and all the turmoil they had caused him, but that did not mean he intended for her to suffer more than she already had.
She slept now, as peaceful as a babe, the light picking up glints of dark gold in her hair. He had thought about waking her again to make sure she was alright, but he could still hear the healer’s words in his ear, warning him that she needed her rest.
They had been lucky, really, that nothing worse had come of it. If she’d had much more of that tea, the healer had told him later that night, she might not have woken up at all. Which posedall kinds of problems of its own, like who had been the one to send the herbs and who exactly they had been intended for?
Surely, her own kin would not have tried to poison her, would they?
It must have been for him, perhaps a plan they had put together to make certain she could get out of the marriage that he had so cruelly trapped her in. But then…
But then, she would never have drunk from it herself. It didn’t make sense. She had seemed genuinely frightened when she had come to in his arms, and he had hated to see how fearful she was of his very presence. There was still much she didn’t know about him, much she didn’t trust, and he could hardly blame her.
Taking her to bed that night, she had looked so vulnerable, so fearful, it was all he could do to give her something to keep her mind off the matter. And she had responded to him without a second thought, her tongue in his mouth, his fingers inside of her, her body yielding to him as if it was what she had been waiting for all along. She had fallen asleep not long after, as he had sat next to her and watched her rest, listening for any irregularity in her breathing that might have pointed in the direction of more trouble.
He had eventually dozed off on the chair in front of the fire, which had now waned to nothingness in the hearth. He cast his eyes around the room, searching for some reason to justify staying there longer, and he spotted a book that had been cast aside on the floor next to the trunk; the pages were splayed, as though it had recently been thumbed through.
He stooped down to pick it up, and, as he opened it, he could not help but smile.
A note at the front announced that this was her journal, and, inside, there were sketches of plants and flowers and herbs. Allof them carefully annotated with details of where they could be found and what they could be used for.
This must have taken her months, years, even. She must have been exceptionally observant, not to mention meticulous. A mind that observes was one worth keeping around. He traced his finger over one of the drawings, imagining her hunched over the paper working hard on it, when he was interrupted by the sound of a voice.
“Spying on me, husband?”
He looked up, snapping the book shut and placing it back down on the seat. Innes was sitting up in bed, observing him from where she sat. How long had she been watching him like that? He wished he could ask, but he would rather not seem like he had anything to hide from her.
“Just seeing what else I need to get rid of,” he replied.
He had already had the trunk removed, not wanting to risk her spending any more time around it and determined to get the rest of the herbs inspected for poison.
“Perhaps I could take my journal to yer gardens,” she suggested. “Make some notes about what would go well with what’s already growing.”
