“Whether I would claim ye this night? Is that what ye want, my wife?”
“Should I no’ want that? ’Tis expected, aye?”
Erik pursed his lips, then shrugged. “I dinna care what others expect. This is between us.”
But was it? If the marriage was not consummated, it could be annulled. Overturned at whim. “Is that what ye want? To bring home a bride no’ yet fully wed to ye? One ye can reject if she doesna suit yer purposes there? If yer folk dinna like her—like me?”
“Who put that nonsense into yer head, Fiona? We are wed. The clan will accept ye, even welcome a kind clan’s lady such as ye will be. And the influence ye will have over its laird and its people.”
“Will ye? Even if we never…” She trailed off again and gestured at the bed, at a loss for words.
Erik’s eyes widened at that. “Never? Nay lass, we will. When ye are ready.” He paused and shrugged again. “I didna want to rush ye. To force ye when ye have had a shock, a sudden wedding, this day. Ye said we are strangers, and we are. Perhaps ye would like some time for us to get more acquainted before we attempt anything else.”
Fiona’s blood warmed. Despite his fierce looks, he was kindhearted, at least to her. She clasped her hands in front of her breasts. He was letting her make the decision, one that meant everything to her, even if it meant little to him. Did she want this now? She’d enjoyed his kiss when they were pronounced man and wife. He continued to treat her with care. And he looked so—delicious—that was the first word that came to mind. Big and strong and fierce, yes, but stunningly attractive. Something about him made her warm and needy in a way she didn’t understand. But it felt good. It felt right.
She took a deep breath. “I dinna wish to wait. Soon, perhaps tomorrow, ye will be laird again, and I will have to learn to be lady to a clan I dinna ken, people I’ve never met. Tonight is ours.We are simply Erik and Fiona, strangers, aye, but man and wife. Naught else. I think ’tis enough.”
He stepped forward and covered her clenched hands with one of his own. “Ye are wise, my lovely wife. I look forward to learning everything about ye. No’ just yer beautiful form, but yer knowledge, yer judgement, yer understanding. Ye will be the councillor I rely on the most, as well as the woman I want to care for. And I promise ye,” he added, as he gently peeled her fingers apart and lifted her hands into both of his, “I will never turn ye away. We are wed for all our days. We have much to learn about each other, many ways to grow together in friendship, and perhaps, eventually in love, and I mean to make the journey with ye a good one for both of us.”
Fiona’s heart melted at his words. She was half in love with him already. “Then let us begin,” she said, and smiled as his head lowered and his heated lips brushed over hers.
Erik foughtto control the desire that filled him at Fiona’s words, her trust in him, and her innocent capitulation to him. He must go slowly, gently, to introduce her to the physical side of affection between a husband and wife, so that she would not fear him. He wanted her to support him, to grow to love him. He knew how intimidating he could be. He did not want her memory of this night to be one of pain and fear, the basis of a future built on loathing. He needed her for the clan, but he needed her for himself even more.
He took his time exploring her lips with his, the skin of her cheek and throat with his fingertips, and tracing the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue. Lightly, letting his warm breath lift stray hairs from her neck. He smoothed them over her shoulderand moved back to her mouth. Her lips tasted of honey and the last of summer’s berries from a patch of sunshine deep in the nearby forest. Her breath warmed his cheek as he nibbled at her chin. Her sighs drove him on, his control a wild horse fighting to slip its reins and race ahead. He knew better than to loose it, no matter how her scent intoxicated him, or her moans of protest when he moved from kissing her drew him back to her mouth.
She was in charge tonight, though she knew it not. His purpose was to please her, to teach her, and to forge an unbreakable bond between them, not to force her before she had a chance to learn what she wanted would be given to her freely and with tenderness.
But it was difficult. Her hands clutched his shoulders. She tunneled her fingers into his hair, then laid soft fingertips along his face as if testing the texture of his beard scruff. He didn’t move his hands below her shoulders until hers slipped from his throat to his chest, one arm going around his back to pull him closer, the other curled over his heart, sensing its racing beat.
Only then did he skim down her throat with two fingers and trace her collarbones before he slipped her shawl from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She arched into his hand, lifting her chest. So he complied. He cupped her breast and softly teased the pebbled nub under his thumb through the thin fabric of her night rail. Her moan urged him to do the same to the other breast. All the while, he never ceased kissing her, tracing the seam of her lips until she parted them and allowed his tongue to explore the sweet recess of her mouth.
He was as hard as he’d ever been in his life. The desire for her threatened to overcome his good sense and determination to treat her gently, and to let her set the pace. “Fiona,mo luaidh, I would teach ye more.”
“Aye, I want ye to. Ye please me more than I ken how to describe. The things I feel…”
“There is much more, my beauty, to show ye. Will ye allow it?”
“I will. I want to please ye, too.”
“Ye do, lass, ye do,” he told her, his tone fervent and deep, barely more than a murmur.
Thudding sounded on the stairs. Running feet? Erik was surprised he heard them over the pounding of his heart. Fiona wanted more, and he intended to give her all he had to give.
Someone hammered on the door.
Fiona froze in his arms. Erik stroked her back to calm her. “They’re playing at disturbing us. They’ll be gone, soon.”
With a nod, she melted into his arms again, just as the pounding on the door sounded again. “Erik, we’ve got trouble out here.”
Erik released Fiona, turned and shouted at the door, “Go away.”
“Erik!”
It dawned on him that the trouble might be real. That was Finn shouting for him. But he was not above a jest or two, so perhaps not. “I’ll no’ tell ye again. Go away.”
“’Tis no’ a jest, Erik. Put on some clothes and get out here.”
Erik turned to his bride. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I’ll go kill him and be back in a moment.” At her gasp, he grinned. “’Twas a jest. I wouldna kill him for anything.” Though, disturbing their wedding night might be enough of a provocation to merit death.
