Chapter Twenty-Two
Arabella peered at the sparkling ring on her finger while her stomach continued to churn and turn flips. During the banquet, she’d sat wound as taut as a bowstring, hesitant of the eve ahead. She glanced to the source of her unease seated beside her. Sprawled in his chair with a tankard of ale in his hand, Calum chuckled at the ribald jests tossed around the hall at his own expense. As though sensing her gaze, he turned his head and proffered a slow, charming smile at her.
“Is something amiss, Sweetness?” He placed his goblet on the table and shifted closer. Grasping her hand, he interwove their fingers. “’Tis been an exhausting day for both of us. Shall we take our leave and retire for the eve?”
Her heart flew to her throat, and a heaviness settled on her chest, wringing the air from her. She attempted to form an acceptable response, but only managed to pull in shallow breaths.
Calum ducked his head closer. His cheek grazed hers. “Breathe, my lass. I vow all will be well.” His breath warmed her ear. “Let us take our leave and enjoy a cup of warm mulled wine in the privacy of our chamber.”
Privacy.
The word alone robbed the remaining air from her lungs. Wheezing, she glanced away from his tender, blue gaze to their joined hands. His large fingers dwarfed hers, but his grip was gentle and sure—just like him.
Saints, what was the matter with her? She was being ridiculous, allowing uncertainty to all but devour her. This was Calum. What’s more, he was her husband now.
Arabella steeled her backbone and lifted her gaze to his. “Aye, husband. I would like that.”
His lips curled with a smile. With a soft squeeze to her hand, he rose to his feet and helped her to stand. Facing the packed hall, he announced, “My bride and I wish to retire for the eve. You have our thanks for your warm wishes. Please continue to eat, drink, and make merry, my friends.”
“Ho, what’s this?” Marcus barked out. “The women are to see your bride up. Then we are to deliver you into her clutches.”
Calum snorted. “Not this time, I’m afraid. We’ll see ourselves up. Alone. You can save that nonsense for Fraser’s wedding.”
Her uncle spat a mouthful of water across the table, and the hall dissolved into laughter. Laughing, she leaned into Calum’s side as he led her through the throng of well-wishers and shouts of bawdy banter.
With an arm around her shoulders, he assisted her up the main staircase and led her down the passageway until they paused in front of the chamber she’d called her own since her arrival. Her husband unlatched the door and scooped her into his arms. She smothered a squeal as he carried her over the threshold, kicking the door closed behind them.
Inside, he deposited her on her feet in the middle of the chamber. Arabella’s heart pounded as fast as a bird’s wings in flight. Her spine as rigid as a lance, she tracked his every movement.
Calum pulled a fur from the bed and spread the pelt before the fire. He moved to a side table, retrieved a tray laden with a jug, goblets, and a trencher, and settled the platter on the fur. Once done, he paced toward her, extending his hand and a kind smile.
“Would you care to join me, my lady wife?”
Her face heated to the roots of her hair. Despite her apprehension, she placed her shaky hand in his. “Aye, my lord husband.”
With care, he helped settle her on the fur, and then he eased down beside her and began unlacing and removing his boots. She tensed and he paused his movements long enough to explain. “I merely wished to get comfortable. ’Tis ages since I’ve been in my bedchamber.”
“I’m sorry.” She ducked her head.
Chuckling, he nudged her shoulder with his. “I’m only teasing, Arabella.” He reached behind him and pulled the tray between them. “Would you care for some wine?”
She spotted a bowl of Elena’s pastries on the tray and glanced up at Calum in surprise. “How ever did you get these?”
“I asked my aunt to make them. I thought you might enjoy them.”
Deep crimson tinged his cheeks and she grinned at his awkwardness. The thoughtful gesture shed another measure of her unease. “That was sweet of you, Husband.”
Shrugging, he poured two goblets of mulled wine and passed her one. He set his aside and rose to his knees to stoke the fire. The faint pop, crackle, and hiss from the hearth enhanced the comforting mood in the chamber.
As he fiddled with the fire, she sipped the spiced wine and considered her husband. In truth, she was rather fortunate to have wed a kind, considerate man. From the first moment she’d met him, he’d looked after her care and seen to her every need. Even though she trusted Calum with her life, a battle of nerves waged war in the pit of her stomach. She wished for naught more than to please her husband, but she’d no notion how.
Annoyed with her ignorance, she snatched a tart from the bowl and sank her teeth into the small confection. Why had she not paid more attention to the serving girls at Penswyck when they mooned over Iain’s men? Perhaps she might’ve learned how to please her husband from the foolish women. She swallowed a mouthful of the sugared berries and set the other half of the pastry aside. Vexed, she pursed her lips and glanced at Calum, only to find him studying her with that penetrating stare of his.
Arabella glanced away, embarrassed by her thoughts. “Is something amiss?”
In the next instant, she gasped when he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her over his hard thighs onto his lap. Spicy scents of soap and man filled her nose, and the pulse in her neck thumped wildly from his nearness. Plagued with unease, she wrung her hands and peered at the stitching of her gown.
With a finger beneath her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. The desire darkening his gaze robbed her of breath and she shivered.
“Are you cold?” His husky voice hummed in her ears.
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip.
“Do you fear me, Arabella?”
The question brought a smile to her lips. “Nay. I’ve never feared you.”
His thumb ghosted over her cheek. “Then why do you tremble?”
Frowning, she plucked at a loose thread on her sleeve. “What if I displease you?”
Calum framed her face in his hands and lifted her gaze to his once more. “You’ve pleased me since the moment you glared down at me from atop of that wretched beast of yours at Penswyck.”
His warm gaze bore into her. He leaned the short distance between them and captured her mouth. His tongue swept inside, teasing her and igniting a slow burn in her belly. Her worries slipped away as their tongues entwined.
Calum arranged her bent legs on either side of his lap and eased the hem of her gown up her thighs. Falling into the grips of passion, she tugged him closer, reveling in the feel of his powerful body pressed against hers.
Desperate for air, she tore her mouth free and panted. The man set her so off balance she’d forgotten to breathe. His lips slid over her jaw, warming her skin. Gooseflesh rose on her arms and she vaguely realized his questing hands worked the lacings of her gown and shift free. The soft material slid from her shoulders, baring her chest to his heated gaze.
Gripping her hips, he lifted her onto her knees. She watched as he leaned forward to capture her breast in his mouth. Warmth covered her flesh and she cried out. His tongue circled over the taut peak, and she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. After one last nip to her sensitive flesh, he feathered kisses across her chest and latched on to the other breast. With each strong pull, she resisted crying out at the sweet torture of his mouth.
As she grasped his hair in her fists, his hand moved to the junction between her thighs. Once his callused fingertips brushed her center, she clamped her legs tight against his thighs in surprise.
“Calum,” she whimpered.
Saints alive, what was he doing to her?
Another swirl of his tongue and caress of his fingers, and he released her breast. His mouth grazed her ear. “Relax, Sweetness. I’ll take care of you. Always.”
The sensual promise sent a flood of heat straight to her core. She tugged his mouth to hers and kissed him. He thrust his tongue inside just as one finger breached her body’s damp entrance. His mouth devoured her startled gasp.
Calum swept his thumb over the bundle of nerves at her center, and taut sensation pooled below her belly. With each stroke of his fingers, embers of desire spread throughout her limbs, and she began to move against him, seeking his caress.
“That’s it.” His teeth nibbled at her neck. “Do you enjoy my touch?”
“Aye, Calum.” The husky sound of her voice surprised her.
As he pressed his thumb against the bud at her core, he eased a second finger inside. Pressure built in her body and her hips moved of their own accord. Each graze of his teeth and stroke of his fingers sucked her further into a blissful fog. She strove to reach some unknown peak. What, she knew not, but her body coiled tight, building to meet a foreign end.
Her husband’s murmured words pierced her mind. The rhythmic stroke and slide of his fingers pushed her closer to the edge until the pressure in her sex snapped, hurtling her into an overload of sensation. She cried out as a wave of pleasure washed over her.
Weak-limbed, she slumped against Calum’s chest. He held her close and rubbed her back while tremors racked her frame. As her pants subsided, she listened to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.
Painfully aware of the dampness between her legs, she glanced up at her husband. A sensual grin tugged at his lips and heat gleamed in his eyes. She raised her hand to brush over his wounded cheek. Before she could tell him how much he’d pleased her, he shifted beneath her and rose to his feet with her cradled in his arms.
Calum carried her across the chamber and settled her atop the furs on the bed. He made quick work divesting her of the rest of her gown and shift, leaving her bared to his view. As his lax gaze roamed over her body, her shyness returned. She reached for a fur to cover herself, but he stayed her hand.
“Nay, do not hide from me. I wish to look upon you.”
He raised a hand and plucked the small flower from the jeweled brooch holding his mantle in place. He bent forward and ran the soft petals over her breasts, and she shivered from the slight touch. Passion rekindled in her lower belly, and she watched as he placed the flower over her heart.
Straightening, he unfastened the brooch at his shoulder and set it on the bedside table. As he unwound the mantle from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, he never glanced away from her. His tunic promptly followed. Her gaze traced over the wound marring his chest and moved down the track of hair that ran to his lower belly. Tanned skin stretched over his strong form, and she itched to touch him.
Arabella watched with avid interest as his hands strayed to the lacing of his braies but he paused. She glanced up to find him peering warily at her. Doubt flickered in his light eyes, and her heart ached for her kind, caring husband. Regardless of his flawed exterior, the man was sheer perfection in her eyes. She wished to show him how much he meant to her. She longed to please him as much as he did her.
Heedless of her nudity, she rose to her knees and lifted her hands to his bare chest. Her husband sucked in a sharp breath but stood motionless as her fingertips glided over his warm skin. Lowering her hands to his braies, she gazed at him as she fumbled with the lacing. Once free, she sat back on her heels and bit her lower lip as he inched the buckskin material over his thighs. His braies slid to the floor with a faint thud, and his manhood sprang free. Startled, she gaped at the sight.
Sweet Mother Mary, she’d never seen that in her youth.
Perhaps, ’twas her evident surprise, or she might’ve even spoken the words aloud, but Calum was quick to assure her.
“Believe me, my lass. We shall fit together. Please…” She tore her eyes from the thick member between his legs and met his gaze. “Touch me. I’ve waited to feel your touch.”
Unable to refuse him, she bit her lip and reached a hesitant hand toward him. Her fingers barely brushed his hardness when he released a guttural moan from deep in his throat. She snatched her hand away, sure she’d hurt him.
“Nay,” he pleaded. “Do not stop.”
Gathering her courage, Arabella exhaled and gently grasped his warm flesh in her hand. Marveling over the contrast in hard and softness, she moved her fingers over the silken skin, circling the swollen tip. She shifted her gaze to his and the breath caught in her throat. His eyes glittered with undeniable heat. In the blink of an eye, she found herself flat on her back with Calum’s massive body covering her.
“I cannot wait any longer. I need you.” That longing need wavered in his rough voice.
Arabella’s heart thumped in anticipation. She lifted her hand to caress his cheek. “Then do not. Make me your wife, Calum.”
She shifted her hips, allowing him to settle between her thighs. His manhood brushed her damp center and she trembled. Braced on his elbows, he peered down at her.
“This may cause you pain, Sweetness.”
She framed his face in her hands. “I trust you.”
Guiding his face to hers, she slid her tongue past his parted lips. She raised her knees to better accommodate him, urging him to make her his wife at last. The tip of his staff eased past her entrance and she tensed at the invasion. Despite the slight sting, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck. Seizing her lips in a carnal kiss, he thrust his tongue in her mouth the same moment he surged forward, seating himself fully inside her. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she ripped her mouth free and cried out from the initial shock.
“Forgive me, my lass.” He held his big body taut, and a pained looked marred his features.
Even with the faint twinge, Arabella caressed his jaw to soothe his concern. As the uncomfortable fullness grew bearable, she lifted her head and placed a kiss on his mouth. The firm press of their lips renewed her passion, and she stirred restlessly beneath him. Running her hands down his backside, she beckoned him to move. Instead, he remained motionless, his face hovering above hers, as if waiting for a sign.
“Please.” She breathed against his lips.
Calum responded to her plea, pulling out and slowing easing back inside, filling her completely to the hilt. A slow burn sparked low in her belly, the odd feeling of her husband moving inside her nearly more than she could bear. Moaning, she closed her eyes.
He slid his arm beneath her head and nipped at her ear. “Look at me, Sweetness. I want to see you.”
She struggled to keep her eyes opened as he set a rhythm with his movements. Each deep stroke increased the ache in her sex. Her body reacted of its own accord, awkwardly moving against him. With each hard thrust of his hips, he groaned against her mouth as she clung to him.
Scoring his back with her nails, she shifted her thighs to accept each stroke. As he ground himself against the taut bundle of nerves at her core, pressure built in her core and hummed through her body. When he quickened his pace and his thrusts became more urgent, thoughts flew from her mind. Close to the edge, she focused on her husband’s handsome, strained face and yielded to desire.
Just as quickly, the tension low in her belly snapped and she shattered in his arms, crying her pleasure against his neck. Passion consumed her, plunging her into a sea of bliss. She was vaguely aware of her husband’s shout beside her ear. Clinging to him, she rubbed his back as shudders racked his frame.
Once her breathing returned to normal, Arabella opened her eyes and met Calum’s worried gaze.
The back of his finger brushed over her cheek. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”
Her heart skipped a beat at his concern. Tugging his head closer, she placed a gentle kiss upon his mouth. She smiled against his lips. “’Twas perfect. You were perfect, Calum.”
His brows eased and his lips split with a playful grin. “Do you think we’ll suit, Lady MacGregor?”
She laughed. “Aye, Laird MacGregor. I believe we just might.”
“Might?” Chuckling, Calum kissed along her jaw. “Mayhap, we should try again, just to be sure.”
*
Aaron shot a quick glance over his shoulder, certain no one lingered in the passageway. He crept through the dimly-lit walkway toward the servants’ entrance and kitchens. Peals of laughter rang out from the great hall as the wedding feast continued on well after MacGregor retired with his bride, but damned if he could take part in the revelry.
Not with Mairi twirling the night away in other men’s arms. And more importantly, not with Connor’s fate looming over his head.
Christ, he must’ve cursed Longford a thousand times throughout the day. He was no closer to figuring out how and when to grab the woman than he was the day before. Unease pressed in around him, gripping his chest in a constraining vise. What the devil was he to do?
He turned the corner to the kitchens and stilled. Shadows played over the wall, signaling someone’s approach. Sucking in a breath, he retreated to the dim passageway, slipping in a dark recess between a tapestry and the wall. He pressed his back against the chilled stone, hoping it might cool his heated body.
As soon as a pair of chattering maids swept past carrying trays up the servants’ stairs, he released the breath he held.
Saints, this would get him nowhere but caught at the rate he was going.
Frustrated, he slapped the tapestry aside and stepped out into the passageway. What he needed was a bit of solitude, away from the clamor in the hall and away from Finn’s frigid stare. Perhaps then he might clear his head and devise an actual plan that wouldn’t end with his brother’s blood on his hands.
Headed for the herb garden, he rounded the corner to the kitchens. A soft body bumped into his and he cursed his rotten luck.
“Aaron?” Mairi’s startled gaze met his.
Of course, she would be the one to discover him. “Aye, my lady.”
“I did not see you in the hall.” Her ebony brows pulled with a frown. “What are you doing out here?”
Sifting his mind for an excuse, he chose to feed her half-truths. “I desired a bit of privacy. I thought I might slip through the kitchens and pay a visit to your herb garden.”
Her pale blue gaze narrowed. “More solitude, my lord? Have you not enjoyed the feast?”
“Nay,” he admitted. In fact, ’twas the truth.
“Why?” Concern creased her comely features. “Is something amiss?”
“Nay, ’tis just that I…” Again with another half-truth. “Seeing you dance with those other men, I’ll admit I was jealous. I wished to dance with you.”
Surprise flared in her wide eyes and an appealing blush bloomed on her cheeks. She pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear.
“Naught would please me more than to dance with you, my lord.” A slow smile formed on her full lips. She lifted her hand to him. “Will you join me in the hall?”
Grateful for the reprieve, he affixed a charming smile and accepted her smaller hand. “It would be an honor, my lady.”