Page 9 of Tempting the Highland Captive

CHAPTERFOUR

The ceremony was brief but legally and spiritually binding. Amelia was numb for most of it, barely perceiving what was going on in the moment, her mind preoccupied with what would come after. The highland prisoner beside her had been cleaned up and looked a bit more civilized than he had in their first meeting. He was stunningly handsome as she first suspected, the tight blue trews clinging to every muscle in his masculinely formed legs and buttocks. His saffron yellow shirt hung open at the ties showing his firm broad chest, bringing out the golden tones of his shoulder length hair. His eyes met hers, a startling blue in his chiseled face.

Amelia mouthed the words she was instructed to without truly hearing them or hearing his responses. All her senses were focused on one thing, her hand in his. The feel of his solid, warm fingers against her cool fingertips was simultaneously soothing and unnerving. It completely absorbed her mind and body. She imagined those hands traveling the length of her body and a shiver passed over her.

“Are ye well, lass?” he murmured for her ears alone.

“Aye,” she whispered back, her lips tingled as she moved them. She imagined his lips on hers and spasmed, her hand squeezing his out of reflex. He squeezed her hand back misinterpreting the gesture, but she found some comfort in it regardless.

When the last syllable had fallen from the priest’s lips and all was complete, Ron Kyall turned to her, took her in his arms, and kissed her, gently at first then with passioned fervor.

“That is enough o’ that,” Lucas growled wrenching the newlywed couple apart.

“Ye made a vow,” Ron reminded Amelia, his eyes holding hers despite the scowling red giant between them.

“Aye, I did.” Amelia nodded. “A vow I fully intend tae keep.”

The guards took up either side of Ron’s arms afraid that there might be an altercation and escorted him to the corridor beyond. Amelia followed, then turned at the door to stop her clansman from following. “Lucas, ye will remain here with Maggie and Faither Jacob, or ye may wait in prayer at St. Giles’ Cathedral, but ye are nae under any circumstances tae follow me tae my wedding bed.”

The warden, hearing her words stepped forward. “I will have tea brought tae my office. Yer people may dine with me there.”

Amelia nodded in consent, then turned and followed her new husband back to his cell. She was so nervous her stomach felt as if someone had made haggis out of her innards, then shoved it back into her body. When they entered the cell, she was surprised and relieved to see that a fresh clean pallet had been made for the occasion. Someone had taken the time to clean the cell, alleviating some of the stench that clung to the air with every inhalation. “We will be just outside if ye are in need o’ anything, my lady,” one of the guards informed her.

“I thank ye,” she murmured as both men bowed and left the cell, locking the door behind them. Nae tae close, I hope, she prayed silently to herself for fear that they might hear what was about to happen. She felt her cheeks warm at the thought and she turned away to gather her emotions.

“I am sorry for the unpleasant surroundings. Ye have nae changed yer mind then, have ye, lass?” Her husband came to stand behind her, placing his hands on the upper parts of her arms and pulling her back against his chest. The solid warmth of him was simultaneously a comforting boon and a terrifying prospect.

“Nae, I have nae changed my mind. I will hold tae my word.”

“Ye dinnae have tae sound as if it is a prison sentence,” he mused with a chuckle. “I swear that I will nae harm ye in any way.” To emphasize his point, he lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck just behind the ear.

A chill passed over Amelia’s skin raising gooseflesh along its path. “I have ne’er lain with a man before,” she whispered, her knees beginning to tremble in equal parts uncertainty and excitement.

He chuckled again. “I assumed as much, lass.”

“I assume that ye have done this before?” she asked more than stated, her cheeks turning bright red as she spoke.

“Aye, I have.” He nodded against her hair. “Does that cause ye distress?”

“Nae,” she shook her head. “It does nae, as long as ye are clean.” She put an emphasis on this last part to show that she meant more than just what soap and water could do.

“Aye.” He nodded again, turning her to look him in the eyes. “I swore that I would nae harm ye, lass, and I meant it.”

Sighing in relief, Amelia nodded and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She would not cry and embarrass herself. She was about to give herself to a complete and utter stranger. It was terrifying, but she squared her shoulders and met his eyes head on. “Let’s get on with it then, shall we?”

At that, he burst out into a full laugh and swept her up into his arms to carry her to the pallet. “Oh, my little brown mouse,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her ear with whispery softness. “I intend on takin’ my time with ye. Ye are, after all, my last dyin’ wish.”

Gasping at the remembrance of his coming execution, and the feel of his lips upon her flesh, Amelia knotted her hands in his hair. “What do ye plan tae do?”

“For just this one blessed day,” he whispered laying her down on the pallet beneath him, “I plan tae love ye.” And he did, kissing the full length of her body removing clothing as he went.

Amelia had never felt anything like it ever before. His lips roved her skin from the tips of her ears to her throat and shoulders, down to her breasts. His hands cupped the firm round globes, taking the weight of them into his palms, as his thumbs brushed over the sensitive tips. Shivers of pure desire passed over Amelia’s being, and she moaned unable to stop herself. Taking this as encouragement, he smiled and dipped his head to lathe each bud with his tongue, suckling them into his mouth in such a delicious fashion that Amelia nearly came up off the pallet. “Ron,” she cried out, lacing her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.

“Amelia,” he murmured huskily against her flesh, then continued to move lower still to her belly. His tongue dipped into her navel, then flicked little snake like kisses down to the hair at the juncture of her legs. He paused for one moment, his breath warming her skin, then his tongue flicked out to caress her most womanly folds and she cried out in shock and pure animal instinct.

“What are ye doing?!”

“Let me show ye,” he murmured and continued delving his tongue into the moist heat of her inner core. “Ye taste of woman and honey.” he growled possessively, grasping her hips with both hands and diving his tongue back down to lathe at her most secret places until she was panting and crying out for him to never stop.