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“Hmm.” Ainsley’s thoughts were likely as his own had been after he spoke to Bishop Timlin. But then he could see the very moment they shifted.

To something even more important.

Their eyes met. Her unasked question there between them.

Tor was about to tell her all of it when she blurted, “And what of us, Tor? What did ye say to the bishop?”

How did he explain himself? The argument between them this morn. Even McGreghere’s words, which, as he thought on it, were meant as much for him and Ainsley as for himself.

Tor stood instead. Tossed two coins on the table and reached a hand across to his wife, bidding her to stand as well. “I would rather show ye, Ainsley.”

Chapter 31

When he locked the door and turned to her, Ainsley knew.

At least, she suspected. Tor pulled her to him, kissed her with more tenderness than she thought possible. Responding to his touch, her lips melded to his as if they belonged there, pressed to his. Their tongues tangled, not as frantically as some of the other kisses they had shared. This time, his was a slow seduction.

It was the seduction.

She still had so many questions. What precisely had he said, or not said, to the bishop? What would happen next? Was he certain this was what he wanted? Why had he hesitated this morning?

But those questions could wait.

He pulled back, reached down, and removed his boots, and Ainsley had only to look into his eyes to confirm her suspicions. His was not the look of a man who’d asked for their marriage to be ended. It was one of reverence.

She removed her own boots as well, watching as her husband slowly undressed. Not as patient as he, Ainsley did the same. Neither spoke. As she stood before this magnificently nude man, Ainsley stared at the way the muscles in his thighs flexed as he moved toward her.

And then her eyes shifted.

“I can assure ye, ’twill fit wonderfully.”

Her head snapped up. “How did ye know my thoughts?”

This time, when he pulled them together, the touch of their skin, of his manhood against her, of Tor’s hands running down her arms and over her thighs . . .

“I know more than ye realize, wife,” Tor said, reaching between her legs. “I know ye will call my name as we lie together. I know the sound will be as sweet as the feel of us joined.”

Ainsley hadn’t realized they were up against the bed until she felt it come up behind her. He kissed her then, his tongue and fingers in perfect rhythm. Pressing her hips to him, Ainsley held on to his shoulders, prepared to come apart in his hands when suddenly, they were gone. Tor pulled back and lifted her, tossing her easily onto the bed. He followed, climbing over Ainsley and looking at her as if she were a prize to be won.

And he, the victor.

Tor closed his eyes, groaning. “I will try.” He swallowed and opened his eyes. “God Ainsley, I really will try but . . . ye’re just so beautiful.”

Taking himself in hand, Tor was suddenly there. She did not wish to wait.

“Please,” she asked, not knowing what, precisely, she begged for. Nor what Tor would try to do. But it mattered not. He was there, now, entering her. Leaning down and kissing her everywhere at once. Her breasts, her chest, her neck . . . everywhere his lips touched, his tongue teased, distracted her from . . . that.

With one swift motion, he entered her fully, capturing her scream. The pain was expected, but stung still. Tor’s mouth covered hers, his head tilting for better access. And as the pain receded, as his kiss intensified, Ainsley forgot that just a moment ago there had even been pain. She began to move, to push herself against him.

Tor did not hesitate. He also moved with her, the rhythm they set as natural as their kisses had become. It was as if their bodies knew what she did not. Ainsley met his every thrust, her nails pressing into his back as she attempted to hold on. Faster and faster they moved until he tore his lips from her, looked at Ainsley, and opened his mouth. No words came out, but her husband’s heavy breathing, along with the sensation of them being joined together, and now his fingers between them . . . it was no longer possible to hold on.

“Tor,” she cried. Again. “Tor.”

“I know.” He rubbed his thumb against her with one last thrust, and this time, Ainsley let the sensations carry her. Her buttocks clenched as the waves came. She may have called his name again, but Ainsley could not be certain. As she watched, Tor’s eyes closed, his head fell back, and he buried himself in her for what appeared to be one last time. Shuddering, Tor fell atop her. And somehow, it did not hurt. Instead it was a weight she welcomed, her husband’s body covering her. His skin pressed to her. Still inside her, they were as close as possible for two people.

Then, all at once, she remembered.

I am no longer a virgin.