His throaty chuckle in her ear almost sent her over the edge. “Soon,” he whispered. Kissing and licking a trail from the tip of one erect nipple, down the center of her torso, past her navel, Malcolm opened her wider and looked his fill before lowering his head. The first touch of his tongue against the swollen bud of her sex sent her reeling. It took no time at all before she exploded in spasms of pleasure, crying Malcolm’s name as she lost all thought.
Kissing a trail back up to her mouth, Malcolm settled himself between her thighs. Poised to enter, he held her face between his two large hands. “I dinna wish to hurt you, Alethia.” The head of his member pushed against her opening, only to withdraw with the next breath.
“It’s OK. I know what to expect, please…” He entered her, filling her another inch deeper. Her hips rose in an effort to bring him further in, frustrated when he once again withdrew. “Malcolm,” she groaned. Again he pushed, this time coming all the way to the thin barrier of skin blocking his way. He rocked back and forth slightly, groaning against her neck. She couldn’t take any more and brought his face to hers, kissing him with all the hunger in her body. “Now,” she commanded.
Malcolm withdrew once more, making her want to scream, returning with a single powerful thrust. The tearing sensation stung, but only for a moment. She shifted beneath him, urging him to move within her, frustrated when he remained still.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice hoarse and raspy.
“Oh yes,” she sighed, bringing his mouth back to hers. Malcolm moved slowly at first, as if he feared causing her discomfort. She met his thrusts with her own, and she knew the second his control snapped. A rumbling growl came from deep in his chest. His thrusts came faster and deeper, the pressure building within her once more, bringing her to a pinnacle of sensation. She came with a rush, just as she felt the hot flood of his climax erupting inside her. Words spilled out of his mouth in rapid Gaelic as he continued to move against her until completely spent.
Caressing her face from forehead to chin, finally taking her mouth in a sweet, lingering kiss that melted her heart, Malcolm whispered in her ear, “You are mine. Now and forever. I will no’ let anyone take you from me. Dinna ever doubt it.” He smoothed the hair from her face, traced her eyebrows with a fingertip and gazed deep into her eyes. “Have faith in me.”
“I do.”
Malcolm remained wide awake long after his wife had fallen asleep in his arms. Certain she would not wake, he rose to fetch a candle. Lighting it from the embers in the hearth, he returned to place it in the stand by their bed. She’d been on her side tucked next to him a moment ago, but now she lay sprawled on her back. Her glorious hair spread out over the bed linens, the covers down about her waist. Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed and watched her sleep.
His heart swelled. For certes he must be the luckiest man in Scotia, for the loveliest woman he’d ever beheld belonged to him. And so sweet a lover he could not have hoped for in his wildest dreams. Her passion matched his in every way. Generous and uninhibited, she’d thrilled him to the marrow.
Lifting a strand of her hair, Malcolm let it slide through his fingers. The sight of her perfect breasts, gilded by candlelight, caused his groin to tighten once again. Loving Alethia gave him a profound feeling of satisfaction and peace. Smiling, he remembered every detail of their wedding night and committed it to memory as she had their vows. The way she looked as she entered their room, like something out of a faerie tale, a vision in a cloud of soft silk, her glorious hair falling free down her back and over her delicate shoulders. Alethia was everything he’d hoped for—and more. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens.
He’d wanted the memory of this night to be something they could savor as they grew old together—and it had been. They’d made love until she could no longer keep her eyes open. The reality had far surpassed his fantasies.
He wished for a long, happy life, filled with the laughter of their bairns and grandchildren. But these were perilous times, and ’twas unlikely their enemies would comply. And what of Giselle?
He’d vowed not to let anyone take Alethia from him. What chance did he have against magic? Wracking his brain for some kind of plan, Malcolm took heart from the words the old crone had said to him so long ago. Giselle had bade him keep truth close to him all the days of his life if he would know contentment. Surely the old woman would not have said the words if she meant to take Alethia from him.
For the moment, his want had been satisfied—the worry, however, remained.