Afterglow
Darroch wanted to stay inside Isabel’s warm, throbbing sheath forever but, inevitably, his tarse slowly softened and slid from her body. “Let’s get to bed and cuddle,” he whispered. “In a while we’ll make love again.”
“I’ll learn to do it better,” she murmured, apparently misunderstanding.
He blew out the candle in the lantern and cradled her in his arms. “If it gets any better, I’ll think I have died and gone to heaven.” Then he wondered if he’d been mistaken and she hadn’t enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he had. “Was it too painful for ye? I’m a big mon.”
She twirled a finger in the curls on his chest. “Only for a fleeting moment. Ye took me by surprise the first time. Who’d have thought lying with a mon could be so wonderful? Ghalla wrinkles her nose and snorts whenever sexual congress is mentioned. But I thought I hadna pleased ye.”
He lifted her into the box-bed and climbed in after her. “I’ve only to look at ye to want to make love again,” he assured her. “We fit together weel.”
He scooted into the corner and pulled her into his arms, feeling all was right with the world when she snuggled into him. “We’d best rise early on the morrow to take advantage of the tide.”
“I’m anxious to meet Kyla,” she confessed. “I hope she likes me.”
“She’ll love ye, as I do,” he replied. But looking down at her as she fell asleep with her head on his chest, his thoughts went to Ywst and the bairn who refused to speak. He’d have to warn Isabel, but that was a problem for another day.
*
Isabel always wore a nightgown when she slept in her comfortable chamber at Dungavin. She’d never shared a bed with anyone. Yet waking up naked with an equally naked male in a cramped box-bed seemed perfectly natural.
The heat from Darroch’s body chased away the morning chill. His growl of contentment as he woke had her arching her back. She was disappointed when he eased her away and sat up, flexing the fingers of his injured arm. “What’s amiss?”
“Naught,” he reassured her. “My elbow’s just a wee bit stiff. ’Twill be fine once we get underway.”
Guilt swept over her as she laid a hand on his bandaged arm. She hadn’t given a thought to his injury. “I’m a poor wife.”
Shaking his head, he pecked a kiss on her lips, then slid past her to get out of the box. He seemed preoccupied, but she supposed he was anxious to set sail for Ywst.
He’d just tucked his plaid around his waist when the back door opened and the bleating sheep ran out. “Yer cousin’s letting us know she’s here,” he said.
A minute or two passed before they heard a loud banging on the front door. “I’ve come to make ye oatmeal,” Fanny shouted before entering.
Isabel drew the linens up to her neck and peeked out just in time to notice a brief scowl on the old woman’s face.
Blue bounded into the croft, wagging his tail, and rushed to sniff everything in sight.
“He fretted all night,” Fanny explained.
Darroch gave the hound a hearty slap on the rump, then leaned over to kiss Isabel again. “Oatmeal sounds good,” he said.
“Aye,” she agreed, “but I think she’s disappointed not to get a glimpse of ye.”
He arched a brow. “Only for my lovely wife to see,” he replied with a chuckle, his face reddening. “I’m off to yon privy.”
*
Seemingly satisfied after a thinly veiled inspection of the bedsheets, Fanny prattled on about the oatmeal being too lumpy, which it wasn’t. “It’s as delicious as always,” Darroch replied, sensing the nonstop chatter had more to do with putting off bidding Isabel farewell. “Dinna fash, I’ll take good care of her.”
“I should hope so,” she declared, glaring at him.
He glanced across the table at his wife. She’d spent the night in a cramped box-bed, been obliged to use an outdoor privy and complete her ablutions at the unreliable pump inside the croft, yet she smiled and preened with the glow of a woman well-bedded. His heart swelled with pride and he felt very smug.
She’d donned the riding habit, as if sensing that’s what he wanted her to wear, and his mouth went dry at the memory of the high boots.
He hadn’t yet told her about Kyla, not wanting to broach the subject in front of Fanny. Better to wait until they were under sail.
He worried about Blue. He’d at first thought Kyla would love the dog, but the creature was rather fearsome, and who could say how a dog might react with a bairn? The beast had been the center of Isabel’s attention and might not take kindly to her lavishing love on Kyla.
Or perhaps he was expecting too much of his new wife. His daughter was a bastard after all.
Lost in his thoughts, he startled when Isabel reached for his hand. “Ye seem preoccupied. Is yer elbow bothering ye?”
“Nay,” he replied, wishing it were that simple.