He could not say how long they lay enjoined together, his body still throbbing inside her and growing hard again when she shifted ever so slightly beneath him.
Her low gasp making him chuckle and raise his head to find her beautiful eyes widened in surprise.
“Aye, lass…we’re not finished yet. Does that please you?”
He laughed again when she nodded, though she grew somber of a sudden and lifted her hand to trace her finger gently over his lips.
“Am I yours now, Roger? No one can take me from you?”
He couldn’t answer for a long moment, her query struck him so fiercely, and he swore he saw emotion in her gaze that matched what was swelling in his heart.
She hadn’t yet said she loved him, but mayhap with time she would reveal her feelings to him…though for now, what he saw as she stared up at him was enough.
“You are mine, Julianna Douglas, and I swear tae defend you tae my last breath.No onewill take you from me.”
* * *
Julianna’s facefelt as warm as the steam rising from her bath, and she leaned her head against the rim of the wooden tub as maidservants bustled around her.
One readying towels for when she rose from the water, another stoking the crackling logs in the fireplace so she wouldn’t catch cold, and another laying out a gold-colored gown upon the freshly made bed.
Roger had left the bedchamber more than an hour ago after countless kisses that had left her breathless and him growing more reluctant to return to the duties of his lairdship—a full day gone by since she had awoken before dawn yesterday to find him lying next to her in bed.
A full day gone by since she had told him she didn’t want to wait to consummate their wedding vows…the hours since filled with impassioned lovemaking that made her heart race and her face grow warmer just to think upon it.
His husky assurances that no one would ever take her from him echoing in her mind as she ran a soapy sponge up one arm and then the other, only to press it between her breasts as if she could calm the breathless feeling once more overwhelming her.
It’s you I want, Julianna. It’s you I love…
She had seen emotion burning in his eyes when she had stood by Aran’s cradle with his daughters, emotion that had made her blush…made her wonder…but now she knew the incredible truth as surely as she lived and breathed.
Roger loved her…and she loved him, too, she knew that now—though why she hadn’t yet said as much to him, Julianna couldn’t fathom.
Mayhap she was afraid after what those women had whispered at Dumbarton Castle that she and Roger would never be happy.
In truth, Julianna had never felt such hope melded with happiness as within this past day spent with him, though a niggling sense of uncertainty lingered in the back of her mind.
Was it what William had said to her? He hated her…and for something she could not change, the country of her birth.
She was English and everyone else around her Scots. Not just any Scots, either, but those fiercely loyal to King Robert and who had already fought for years for their independence from England…and with no end to the bloodshed in sight.
Mayhap the servants at Douglas Castle knew better than to show any enmity toward her, Julianna glancing at the women busy with their tasks who had been nothing but kind and helpful to her.
Yet what about Roger’s warriors? His captains and other retainers of rank? His steward, Benedict, who she had heard ran the household, Roger’s healer, Horas, and Evander, his priestly brother?
Roger’s men had cheered upon his arrival days ago, but their boisterous welcome had been for him, not her. Had he already spoken to them about her and asked for their acceptance? Or had William mayhap already turned others against her, unbeknownst to Roger?
“My lady, the water grows cool. Let us help you out of the tub.”
Julianna nodded, grateful for the interruption to her turbulent thoughts as she rose dripping wet and was immediately wrapped in soft towels.
Within moments, she was dried off and a delicate linen shift drawn over her head, followed by a silken gown—contributed by the wife of one of King Robert’s courtiers—and then ushered to a chair in front of the fire where one of the women began to brush her long hair.
“Such a lovely hue,” the older maidservant commented while the other two nodded in agreement, Julianna grateful for their ministrations. She imagined they must have done the same for Sylvia, and Roger had already told her that his late wife’s gowns, shoes, and jewelry were for her to use as she wished, which had touched Julianna deeply, since she had little of her own.
“We have fine seamstresses in the village, so you’ll soon have new gowns,” he had whispered in her ear, holding her close. “Sylvia had a generous heart and I know she would want you tae have everything you need. Just as you have a generous heart, Juli…”
Tears had stung her eyes as he had lifted her chin to kiss her, and she blinked them away now as the woman inserted a gold, bejeweled comb into her hair.
