“Up to camp with ye, as ye have a mind to see tradition honored. I agree that it is the custom in a marriage such as ours. Once the midwife pronounces ye fit to bear my children, maybe ye’ll settle down. I suppose a maiden is allowed to be a bit nervous the first time her husband kisses her. Even if ye do learn the art of kissing quickly.”
“Twas more than a kiss…” Anne shut her mouth quickly before her ignorance showed any further. She’d never known that a man used his tongue when kissing.
His teeth flashed in the moonlight. “Aye, that it was and such a delight when our tongues mingled.”
Heat speared through her as she stared at him. She was frozen in a moment of shock mixed with excitement, her lips tingling and clamoring for another moment beneath his.
“Does that look mean ye’ve changed yer mind?” He hooked her around the waist once again, closing the gap between their bodies so that the chill of the night was cut off. He handled her so simply, his strength far superior to hers. “Ye don’t appear to be very interested in returning to camp.”
“You’re distracting me, my lord. I’m not accustomed to turning my back on someone who is speaking to me. I was taught that to do so is rude.”
“Leaving yer lord with unrelieved desire is also unkind.”
Her eyes widened but her chin rose, too. Brodick gritted his teeth before baiting her further. It was his duty to act with honor, not taunt her into a passionate tryst. At least that was what he had heard. When it came to marriage, he was inexperienced. Now women, he liked them and didn’t enjoy waiting to claim what he desired.
He didn’t give a damn about a midwife’s inspection. But it was the custom and he’d be acting like an uncivilized ruffian to refuse her request for tradition to be honored.
“Join the others. Now.”
She pulled in a harsh breath, clearly annoyed with his tone. But she kept her lips sealed and even lowered her head slightly before turning and climbing to the top of the hill. Brodick remained where he was, taking a moment to fill his chest with the night air. It didn’t do much to cool his blood.
But that wasn’t something to lament. Or so most of his fellow noblemen would say. Having a hard cock for your wife was surely the least of worries considering how ill matched most noble union s were.
He shrugged as his own thoughts failed to fend off a sour disposition. His cock was hard and he wasn’t in the mood to be placated by counting his blessings.
What he wanted was to investigate just how much more passion was locked up inside his English bride. That damned face veil had hidden quite the surprise. Her unpainted face was like discovering ripe strawberries in the dead of winter. Her kiss was just as sweet as those same tempting fruits. Letting her go was a test of his discipline and he’d come very close to failing it.
Still…it was a fine feeling indeed to know that he craved his wife. Even if his cock was throbbing and bound to ache for the next hour, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about how he was going to breed her. Too many grooms made wedding contracts that benefited their people but ended up with limp cocks when they got a look at their brides.
His was standing stiffly at attention, eager for the consummation.
He chuckled as he began moving toward his men.
Well now, it was a surprise that he was going to enjoy full well.
That it was.
She’d never guessed that a man might feel so good pressing up against her, never even considered such an idea since she was forbidden lovers. It was like discovering a hidden treasure of feelings locked deep inside her.
Anne snorted.
’Twas more like stumbling across Pandora’s box. Keeping everything inside was the best course of action. Failing to do that might seal her fate.
Still, she couldn’t quite banish the memory from her thoughts. Maybe that proved Philipa correct; she was like her mother.
A wanton.
She scowled, grateful for the darkness. Her mother loved her father. It was a curse, that emotion. Love wasn’t a wise choice for anyone. It drove men insane and drew women away from their families. Many doctors labeled it an affliction similar to insanity.
She couldn’t think of her mother as deranged or her siblings as the product of insanity. There had to be more to it, something that was yet to be understood. It was the age of understanding after all. Men were sailing the ocean and bringing back tales of new lands inhabited by savages.
She should be able to resist the longings twisting her belly. Every inch of her skin was alive with heightened sensation. She was keenly aware of how soft the fine chemise was against her. For the first time in her life, she detested her stays. They felt too tight against her swollen breasts.