Page 36 of The Baron’s Halo

His mouth full of kippers and bacon, Sandy nodded.

“And I think we must converse on a very important matter.” She stared him straight in the eyes. “Last night.”

Sandy’s brows rose, but he nodded and carefully swallowed. “Yes, I suppose we must.”

“I want to propose that we try again tonight.” Isabelle touched his hand, resting beside his plate. “I am so very grateful for your solicitous behavior last evening. I have said it before and I’ll continue to do so, that you are an angel or a saint with the patience you’ve shown me. You should use your halo to light you to bed, my dear. But, the first time for anything is always difficult. This will be our first time together as husband and wife. Once we are through that, we will know what to expect.” She dropped her gaze. “And if, like last night, I am frightened, or upset, I promise to let you know.”

“You are correct, my love.” He laid down his knife and fork and took her hand. “We must move past this ‘first’ time. And the only way to do that is to simply keep moving forward.” He squeezed her hand. “Very well. Today we will tour the house and we will have luncheon together. This afternoon I must attend to some business and you may begin to familiarize yourself with the running of the house.”

“Oh, but your mother—”

“I am not certain how active she will wish to continue to be with the day-to-day running of the house. She may, in fact, wish to remove herself to the dowager house so that we may find our own way.” He chuckled. “So many questions to be answered so quickly. Still, I will leave you the afternoon to arrange your schedule to your liking. Then tonight after dinner…” he leaned toward her and whispered, “we will engage in sexual congress to our hearts’ content.”

“Sandy!” She couldn’t help but laugh, which might have been his purpose all along.

“However,” he said, sitting back in his chair, his demeanor becoming serious once more, “you had best keep your word about telling me if you are frightened or wish for me to stop. If you do not, I will not be adverse to turning you over my knee and spanking you if you misbehave.”

Isabelle gasped and laughed, until she realized he was serious. “Sandy, you wouldn’t!”

“Do you wish to test me and find out?” He cocked his head, waiting.

“No,” she replied hastily. That no-nonsense look in his eyes told her that was one test she did not want to fail. He truly cared about her well-being, which was special in its own way. No other man, save her father, had ever cared so much about her and how she felt about things. By some miracle, she’d stumbled upon another such man. And with the grace of God, she would find a way to hold tight to him.

*

The day had flown by much faster than Isabelle would have believed it. She and Sandy had spent much of the morning together, going over the house, talking about changes or needed repairs to the castle. Isabelle had had no idea it took so much work to keep up a castle that seemed overrun by servants. Yet there was going to be much work for them to do to keep Cridhe Laidir running smoothly. The afternoon she’d spent writing to her mother, then tore the letter up, unsure if she should reveal her whereabouts to Ambrose. Afterward she’d remembered Lady MacKay had sent her trunks with Sandy’s valet, so both her mother and stepfather would likely know her location. Not that it mattered. She was married to Sandy, Lord MacKay. Indeed, she was Lady MacKay. Ambrose could no longer hurt her.

Now she sat at her toilette table, rubbing lotion into her hands, waiting for Sandy with much excitement and a little trepidation. As long as her excitement outweighed everything else, she’d be fine. It was comforting to have her own clothes and things around her, even though many were new, like the nightgown and robe set she was wearing of pleated white cotton with an applique of white flowers and vines along the front opening and around the bottom hem. It was a beautiful garment that warmed her inside and out. However, she intended to wear it as little as possible tonight. Her cheeks heated at that thought, but it was nothing but the truth. She shot a glance at the door. Perhaps she should begin without the gown at all.

Scandalous thought, except she was married. Married people should be able to do what they wanted in the privacy of their own bedchamber. Without pausing, afraid she’d change her mind, she stood, shed the robe, then grabbed the hem of the gown and pulled it over her head. The room was much chillier without her clothing. The hairs all over her body pricked up and her nipples hardened. She hadn’t realized she’d be so cold.

Padding over to the dressing room, she had to quicken her pace before she started shivering. She grabbed the white and gold silk shawl her grandmother had given her and slung it around her shoulders. Better. The shawl was long enough to cover a good amount of skin, but still leave enough of her exposed to pique her husband’s interest. She returned to the chair, draped the garment more provocatively around her, then set back to await Sandy.

About the time she was contemplating stirring up the fire to warm her more, the door opened.

Isabelle arched her back—thrusting her breasts out even more—and smiled broadly.

Sandy took one step over the threshold and stopped dead at the sight of her. His eyes grew large, the pupils darkening to jet.

“Good evening, my lord.” Oh, but she hoped it would be.

“Good evening.” His words came out low, almost guttural, as though he could scarcely speak. He pushed the door shut with a bang, continuing to stare at her, the look of hunger growing on his face.

Uncertain what to do next in this impromptu seduction of her husband, Isabelle rose, pulling the shawl around her so she was mostly covered, and sauntered toward the four-poster. She gave him what she hoped was a sultry look over her shoulder and said, “Will you come to bed?”

In two steps Sandy reached her, grabbed her to him and sank his mouth down onto hers. The suddenness of his movement took her breath away. She clung to him, letting him drink her in as she did him. Slipping her arms around his neck, Isabelle kissed him back, thrust her tongue into his mouth, unexpectedly wanting to possess him with a ferocity she’d never known before.

Scooping her into his arms, he then strode the few remaining steps to the looming bed. He broke the kiss to set her down on the mattress, then tore off his jacket and shirt and ripped the buttons from his fall.

Amazed at the speed with which her husband disrobed, Isabelle gazed at him, her hunger growing as bit by bit, his body came into view. He kicked off his shoes, and snaked the trousers down his legs, revealing his cock once again willing and eager. His clothing dispensed with, Sandy gathered her into his arms, pulling her fully against his naked body. The incredible warmth of his skin seemed to soak into her immediately, creating a fire within—a fire she wanted to stoke until the house burned down.

He peered into her face, his countenance sober. “You remember the rules, don’t you, Isabelle?”

She nodded. She’d thought about little else all day. “If I am frightened in any way, I will tell you to stop.”

“Or if I hurt you.”

She cupped his dear face. “You would never do that, Sandy. But I will tell you.”