Chapter Nineteen
Royal cradled his wife as she sobbed in his arms. Desperately, he rummaged through his brain for the words that might console her. He’d never seen Ainsley cry with such abandon, not even when she’d given up Tira that fateful day in Cairndow. Her courage back then had filled him with awe. But if she’d cried then as she was crying now, he would not have been able to turn his back and walk away from her.
He never should have abandoned her, no matter how right the decision had seemed at the time. But the past was a country they could never revisit. Now, they could only go forward. Despite their shared legacy of pain, they could try to create a better life, a good life as husband and wife.
Nothing and no one would ever take Ainsley away from him again.
He stroked her silky black hair, breathing in the faint scents of lavender and mint that drifted up like a whisper of magic. “Hush, love. You mustn’t cry so, or you’ll make yourself ill.”
She half sobbed something into his nightshirt, her body plastered against him. Ainsley was a delicious armful and he was aware of every bit of it, especially the lush breasts that pressed into him when she gulped in air. His leg was killing him, he’d just told her about the worst day of his life, and she was a distraught mess in his arms, yet he still wanted to tip the lass onto her back and kiss her until she trembled for other reasons besides grief.
Get your mind out of the gutter, you idiot.
Ainsley needed comforting now, not a husband slaking his lust, even though that lust had grown to monumental proportions.
He focused on her muffled words. “What did you say, sweetheart? I couldn’t hear you.”
She was trying hard to contain herself, swallowing her broken sobs. Royal stroked a hand down her back, simply waiting for her to settle.
After a minute or so, she flattened her hands on his chest and pushed into a sitting position. The blue lace ribbon of her formerly impeccable coiffure had come undone, sending most of her hair down in a bedraggled tumble. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were swollen, and her nose had turned a rather bright shade of pink. She’d be utterly appalled if she caught a glimpse of herself, thanks to her fierce need to control how others saw her.
To Royal, Ainsley had never looked more beautiful. Every emotion shimmered right on the surface, raw, honest, and vulnerable. She was not a woman who liked being vulnerable, so the fact that she could be that way with him felt like a precious gift.
She pushed her hair out of her eyes and swiped a sleeve across her nose as she gave a hearty sniff. Royal found her lack of self-consciousness utterly charming.
“I said, I never get sick,” she replied in a husky voice. “You’re the one who’s sick, and here I am acting like a hysterical female. I am utterly mortified by it. You should just shoot me and put us both out of our misery.”
He snagged a soft cloth from the bedside table and gently dried her damp cheeks. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Ainsley. It’s an ugly tale. It was wrong of me to tell you.”
She suffered his ministrations, even though he could tell she wanted to take the cloth and dry her cheeks herself. Ainsley was a stubborn, independent lass and he loved her all the more for it.
“I asked you to tell me, as you might recall,” she said. “In fact, I insisted on it.”
“That’s no excuse. You’ve suffered enough in your life. You don’t need to hear my gruesome old war stories.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, giving his shoulder a little shove. “And I’m glad you told me. Since you know everything horrible that’s happened to me, it’s only fair that I know everything miserable that’s befallen you.”
“Ainsley, I don’t want you touched by that sort of horror. It’s my job to protect you from such things, not expose you to them.”
Irritation sparkled off the damp tips of her eyelashes. “Royal, I want your help and support, but you don’t have to tiptoe around me like I’m some frail miss who could shatter at the first sign of trouble. I’m perfectly c . . . capable of taking care of myself.”
He smiled at her little hiccup. “That is most apparent and undeniable.”
“Although you are certainly free to spoil me, on occasion. I haven’t been spoiled in some time, and I think I’m due for it.”
“I would be happy to spoil you and take care of you. But, alas, today illustrated all too clearly that I’ve been mucking that up. In fact, I clearly need you
to take care of me
.”
That won him a reluctant smile. “What a shocking reversal of the natural order.”
“So shocking that I may find myself going into a complete decline. Then who would spoil you?”
Her smile faded. Perhaps she was remembering how very sick he was when they first met. His declining health had been no joke then.
“I know how difficult it was for you to tell me about what happened to you,” she said. “I’m dreadfully sorry I fell apart. I promise I won’t do so again.”
“I thought we both agreed that you needn’t keep apologizing to me?”
“Only if you stop blaming yourself for failing me. Or failing at anything, for that matter.” She again poked him in the shoulder, but more gently this time. “You are never to think of yourself as anything but strong, Royal Kendrick. For you to have survived all those horrors and to still be the man you are . . . well, you quite put me to shame. Honestly, I’m a selfish lout compared to you.”
He smoothed her bedraggled curls away from her face. “You were the one who saved me, don’t forget.”
She frowned. “Your brother saved you.”
“Yes, Nick pulled me out of that ditch and kept me alive. Mostly from sheer stubbornness—and by threatening every physician in the army if they gave up on me.”
“That sounds like your brother.”
He took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “But you saved me too, Ainsley. I was dying. And while my body fought back, trying to get strong again, my . . . spirit was withering. I just couldn’t seem to get over what had happened on that battlefield. And I don’t know how much longer I could have held on before I just gave up.”
“I would kill
the people who hurt you, if I could,” she said fiercely. “They’d end up in that damn ditch with a bullet in their backs, if I had my way.”
He bit back a smile at her threat. “Not necessary, love, because everything changed the moment I first saw you. I remembered what it was like to be alive again—truly alive.”
Ainsley appeared almost stricken by his confession. “Royal, have you forgotten how horrible I was to you? I was an absolute witch.”
“I’ve not forgotten one moment. But even when it all went wrong, it didn’t matter. I knew you were in the world. Because of that, life seemed worth living again.”
She briefly pressed her hands to her eyes. “What an awful thing to say to me, you brute.”
He laughed at her unexpected response. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to make me cry again. I hate
that. It’s so messy and emotional. And my nose gets red, which I also hate.”
“I’d say that messy and emotional just about sums up our relationship, doesn’t it?”
She let out a watery laugh. “Very true. But I’ve never been responsible for someone else’s life before. It’s rather terrifying.”
“Now you’re responsible for two lives, mine and Tira’s. I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”
“You were both doing perfectly well without me. All I’ve done is complicate things.”
He uncurled her fingers and rested her palm against his chest. “Any complication is a small price to pay for having you in our lives, I assure you.”
She blushed. “I can scarcely believe that, but thank you.”
When her warm fingers curled into the thin fabric of his nightshirt, his heart skipped a few beats. It took every ounce of willpower not to lean forward and tease a kiss from her luscious lips—her red nose notwithstanding. In fact, he was tempted to kiss that too, since it was so adorably vulnerable.
Kissing his wife was the last thing he should do, considering how emotional she was. He prayed that her gaze wouldn’t drop down to his lap. If it did, she couldn’t fail to see the erection that had pushed up the covers.
Bloody hell, man. Get control of yourself.
But his body refused to obey, and her gaze did
wander down to his lap—and stuck there.
“Sorry about that,” he said with a sigh.
She lifted an ironic eyebrow, even though her cheeks had turned a shade that matched her nose. “You must be feeling better.”
“No, it’s you. I could be three-quarters dead and I would probably still react the same way.”
Their gazes locked and they both froze, as if trapped in amber. Her breath caught nervously in her throat, but he swore her violet gaze shimmered with longing. It was the most awkward and intensely arousing moment of Royal’s life.
“You’d better go,” he forced himself to say.
She jerked, as if coming out of a trance, and then glanced at the bedside table. “But I promised Brody I’d massage some liniment into your leg.”
The image of Ainsley’s slim hands rubbing his thigh almost undid him. If she didn’t leave the room at once, he expected he’d explode. And that
would be the final, humiliating end to an already trying day.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said.
She eyed him with a degree of uncertainty. “Brody seemed to think it was necessary.”
“Brody is an old woman. I’ll just have another whisky, and everything will be fine.”
“You’ll have no more whisky.”
She scrambled sideways as he reached for the glass on the side table. Royal grabbed it, twisting to keep it out of her reach. His thigh muscles immediately went into spasm.
“Dammit,” he gasped, almost dropping the glass.
“Now look what you’ve done.” Ainsley snatched the crystal tumbler from his hand.
He was too busy trying not to pass out from the pain to answer. Ainsley placed the glass out of his reach and pressed him back into the pillows.
“Lie back and catch your breath before you expire from your own stupidity,” she said.
Despite her tart words, her hands were gentle as she brushed the damp hair off his forehead. She murmured soothing, nonsensical words under her breath—the same as she did for Tira when she thought no one was listening—while blotting the sweat from his face and neck with one of the small towels from the night table. When she started massaging his temples, his nausea began to fade.
After a minute or two, his eyes drifted closed. He sank into a velvety dark, lulled by the heat and gentle crackle of the fire. Her hands were better than whisky and better than any laudanum he’d ever forced himself to drink. If she kept it up, he just might be able to sleep.
“Better?” she whispered after a few minutes.
He pushed his head into her hand and murmured his approval.
“Good. Because I’m going to put some liniment on that leg right now.”
Royal opened his eyes to see Ainsley hoisting her skirts and then caught a glimpse of her pretty ankles and calves as she scrambled up onto the bed. The tops of her breasts merrily jiggled over the confines of her bodice as she scooted over to him.
God, she was truly going to kill him.
“Hand me the bottle, will you?” she asked.
Royal found himself clutching the covers around his chest like an outraged maiden aunt. “No.”
As she pulled the bedclothes away from his leg, wadding them to the side, she glanced up at him with a frown. “Are you worried I’ll hurt you? I promise to be very careful.”
“The only thing I’m worried about is how I’ll control my reaction if you start touching me.”
She briefly eyed his erection, once more tenting the sheets. “That thing? I suppose we’ll just have to ignore it, won’t we?”
“Easy for you to say.”
“If I can pay it no mind, then I’m sure you can too,” she said, sounding a bit like a stern schoolmistress.
Perversely, Royal found that image even more arousing.
“Besides,” she added, “massaging in the liniment probably won’t feel very nice, so I suspect that will take care of the problem.”
He made one last effort. “The scar is gruesome.”
“Royal, I am not hen-hearted,” she scoffed. “Now give me the bottle.”
When she held out an imperious hand, he sighed and handed it over.
She folded the sheet over twice, deftly obscuring his embarrassing erection. Of course, that also left him lying with only his nightshirt between them.
“Can you lift up the hem of your garment?” she murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He shifted as he reached down, wincing at the stab of pain. Carefully, he exposed his mangled thigh.
Her harsh intake of breath conveyed her shock at the appalling brute of a scar high up on his leg—one the width of a hand. The skin was puckered over the damaged muscle, white in some places and faded purple and red in others. The doctors had stitched and braced him as best they could, but the combination of the lance and the trampling had turned his leg into a horror. The bones had eventually knit, although not perfectly, and the flesh had pulled together into the ghastly scar. It had taken months, the wound opening twice in the process and resulting in even more stitches.
Finally, though, the muscles had bulked up and were growing stronger every day. But it would never be less than a vile sight, and he couldn’t help flushing with embarrassment under her gaze.
“This was a mistake,” he said, reaching for the hem of the nightshirt.
Ainsley swatted his hand away. “Don’t be an idiot. I had to see it sooner or later, didn’t I? We will start sleeping together at some point.”
“Ah . . .” he said, sounding exactly like an idiot.
“And since that is the case, let’s take this opportunity to get used to each other. Practice, as it were.”
Her gaze held a complex mix of emotions. He saw sadness there, along with more than a bit of nerves. But mostly he saw determination, a need to rise to whatever challenge this represented for her. And if she needed this, how could he say no?
He gave her a rueful grin, trying to lighten the moment. “When you put it like that, how can I possibly refuse?”
She flashed him a quick, relieved smile. “You know, you’re really much
smarter than people give you credit for.”
He had to laugh outright.
But his amusement died when she uncorked the liniment bottle and carefully tipped the viscous liquid into her hand. “Ready?” she asked.
He nodded, unable to utter a word but nearly undone by the thought of her hands finally touching his body.
When she placed her soft hand on his thigh, tentatively rubbing the liniment into his skin, Royal swallowed a groan. He squeezed his eyelids together to shut out the sight of what she was doing to him. He would
control himself. He’d die rather than frighten her, even though he all but shook with the need to drag her up to his mouth for a devouring kiss.
Thankfully, the burgeoning pain as she massaged the tight thigh muscles did enforce a necessary discipline. Sweat prickled along his hairline as she worked to ease the spasm.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He gave a terse nod without opening his eyes.
For the next few minutes, he was caught between heaven and hell. As the liniment heated under her surprisingly assured touch, odors of cloves and menthol teased his nostrils, and his skin began to tingle with the familiar warmth of Brody’s potion. As she worked his thigh with increasingly firm strokes, the spasm finally began to ease, and he relaxed into the pillows.
“Better?” she quietly asked. “Shall I continue?”
He dragged open his eyelids. She regarded him earnestly, her complexion flushed from her efforts. The light from the bedside table cast a warm glow on her creamy breasts. Kneeling as she was and leaning slightly forward, her position allowed him to see straight down to the shadowy edge of her nipples, a dusky tease that he felt deep in his groin.
She was so lovely it all but stopped his heart.
“You don’t have to,” he gritted out.
Her tiny snort was both feminine and knowing. “Close your eyes, Royal. Just relax.”
He should
tell her to go, especially for her sake. But when she started up again, her long, sensual strokes pulled a moan from his lips even as his eyelids shuttered once more.
With every touch of her fingers, desire added fuel to the fire in his belly. Her touch soothed yet tortured, one moment lulling him to sleep, the next stoking his lust. It was the most delicious, frustrating experience of his entire life, and all she was doing was massaging his damn leg.
The leg that had not felt so good in a very long time. His wife was a bloody miracle worker.
When her hand suddenly slipped down to the inside of his thigh, tantalizing close to his straining cock, his eyes shot open.
“Ainsley, what the hell are you doing?”
Their gazes locked. Royal suspected his eyes were bugging out of his skull, but hers had turned a dark, velvety blue, slumberous and enticing.
“I’m touching you,” she said, rather breathless. “And I think I’m going to kiss you, too.”
Too stunned to respond, he simply stared at his beautiful wife as she planted her hands on his shoulders and proceeded to do just that.
* * *
Royal’s brawny shoulders stiffened under her fingertips as she pressed a trembling kiss to his lips. She caught the faint tang of whisky and felt the stern set to his wonderful mouth. When that mouth held its unwavering line, Ainsley’s heart pounded like Thor’s hammer.
Had she misread him?
His body’s reaction, barely concealed by the sheets, suggested she hadn’t. But what did she truly know about a man’s wants and needs? Perhaps it was an unexpected physical reaction he couldn’t control. Perhaps he was just as stunned by what was happening between them as she was.
Or her bizarre timing could be putting him off. She was supposed to be nursing the poor man, not seducing him. Given his level of pain, it was a miracle he could even have a sensible conversation, much less return her clumsy advances.
But with her husband stretched out under her hands, all her difficult, surging emotions had crested into an irresistible tide. Feeling that tough, masculine body respond to her touch, hearing the deep groan rumble quietly in his throat, she’d simply given in to the impulse she’d been fighting for so long.
Tentatively, she kissed first one corner of his mouth and then the other. Still, though, he refused to yield, stiff as a plank of oak beneath her. She obviously had
made a mistake and had no idea how to get out of it other than to slink from the bed and scurry to her bedroom as fast as her weak knees could carry her.
Squeezing her eyes shut against a rush of shame, she started to retreat but didn’t get very far. Royal’s hand shot up to wrap around her neck, keeping her face only inches away from his. She reluctantly opened her eyes, fearing disapproval in his gaze.
His cheekbones were glazed with a dark flush, and his pupils were huge, making his eyes look more black than green.
“Sweetheart, exactly what is happening here?” he asked in a low, rough voice.
His breath, warm and whisky-scented, brushed her cheek with an invisible caress.
“I . . . I’m kissing you,” she stammered. “Is that all right?”
“I don’t know. Is it all right?”
“What does that mean?”
He reached up with his other hand to gently tap her nose. “It means I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable with.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I must be very bad at this, because I do wish to kiss you, Royal. I’m sorry if I’m making a hash of things.”
He ran a featherlight finger along the top of her upper lip, making her shiver with pleasure.
“Love, you’re doing it perfectly,” he said. “I can barely keep my hands off you.”
She felt shaky with relief. “Then why are you?”
“Because I don’t want you to do this because you feel sorry for me.”
“Royal, is that truly what you think is happening here?”
He gave a casual shrug, as if it didn’t matter. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to bed me out of pity.”
Ainsley had to repress the impulse to whack some sense into him. “Are Highlanders always this dense? I am not
doing this out of pity. And may I just add that I insist on being the only woman who sleeps with you from now on. If you have any notion of sneaking off to consort with a local barmaid or anyone else, you can simply forget it. I won’t put up with it, Mr. Kendrick. I’d murder you first.”
With a vague feeling of surprise, Ainsley realized that might not be an exaggeration.
His big hand gently cupped her head. “I have no intention of touching any woman but you, Mrs. Kendrick, not ever,” he said in a smoky voice that made her muscles go weak.
It was a good thing she was already sitting on the bed.
She mustered a chippy tone. “Then what, pray heaven, is the problem? I wish to be with you, and you wish to be with me.”
“Because I don’t want to rush you, love. You’ve had a difficult day—”
“Rush me, by all means.”
He tilted a skeptical brow, but his other hand moved to cuddle her waist. And she could feel the evidence of his impressive erection nudging her thigh.
Snuggling closer, she slipped her fingers into the gap of his nightshirt to caress his bare skin. His harsh intake of breath was immensely gratifying.
“What happened to you was horrible, and I won’t pretend it didn’t affect me,” she said.
In fact, she’d almost burst into tears when she’d first seen his awful scar. But there was nothing weak or damaged about Royal Kendrick. He was a beautiful, hard warrior who’d overcome challenges that would have put most men in the grave.
“But your injury doesn’t make me feel sorry for you. It’s a part of who you are, Royal. And who you are is the best man I’ve ever known. You’re my husband, and I want to be with you.”
“That makes me exceedingly happy,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Although it’s sadly evident that I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to the marriage bed,” she said ruefully. “I’d like very much to please you, though. Perhaps you could show me how.”
His mouth curled into a smile so seductive that it made her insides quiver. “I’d be happy to. But first I’d like to please you.”
“Oh? That sounds rather nice.”
“So, let’s start with kissing again, shall we?”
He took her hands and placed them around his neck. “But I want you to tell me if I’m going too fast,” he added, “or if I’m doing something you don’t like. I’ll stop right away.”
She nodded, too nervous to reply. They were finally
going to be together as man and wife. It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
He bent his head so they were eye to eye. “Do you trust me, Ainsley?”
She snorted. “Of course, you booby. More than anyone in the world.”
“Then everything will be just fine.”
His expression was so tender and loving that her fluttering insides began to settle. Of course it would be all right. This was Royal. If she couldn’t open herself to him, then she would remain forever closed off from her emotions, always afraid. She didn’t want to be that woman anymore. She wanted to be free—free to both give and to accept love.
“Yes?” her husband said quietly.
“Yes.” She stretched up to press her lips to his.
He cradled her close as he returned her kiss. The tips of her nipples rubbed against his chest, and heat coursed through her veins. Her stays suddenly felt so tight.
Embarrassed by her body’s reaction, she repressed the shocking urge to wriggle against him.
Royal’s chuckle vibrated against her lips.
Ainsley pulled back. “What’s so funny?”
“You.” His heavy-lidded eyes gleamed with sensual heat. “You’re allowed to move. In fact, I would encourage it.”
She sighed. “I told you I wasn’t very good at this.”
“My darling, you are splendid. Besides, we’re just practicing, remember? We’re finding out what feels good.”
When he gently turned her head and kissed the most sensitive part of her neck, Ainsley shivered.
“And what feels even better,” he whispered, working his way across to her mouth.
Feeling quite a bit better, she shifted closer, almost toppling into his lap.
Royal slipped an arm around her shoulders. “You need to get more comfortable, love.”
Before she could reply, he tipped her back into the cushions piled at the head of the bed, and arranged her snugly against him. Slightly disconcerted by her sudden change in posture, Ainsley blinked up at him.
Royal toyed with the curls falling down around her cheeks. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?” she whispered.
“I’d like to start by kissing your pretty little feet and then working my way up to the top.”
She gave this intriguing suggestion the attention it deserved. “I think I’d prefer that you start at the top and work your way down,” she said after a moment.
His smile transformed into a grin so boyish and happy it made her want to laugh.
“In fact,” she said, suddenly feeling quite bold, “let me help you get started.”
When she started on the buttons at the top of her bodice, Royal’s gaze narrowed on her hands. “Be my guest.”
Since there were only three buttons, she didn’t do much more than expose the lace and ribbons that trimmed her shift. But from the expression on Royal’s face, it was like she’d stripped off her clothing and was prancing naked about the room.
When he leaned down to kiss her, the hungry swipe of his tongue stole her breath. His mouth was silky and hot, and his kiss so possessive that her body vibrated with an arousal that had her trembling in his arms.
When he eventually pulled back, Ainsley had to struggle to clear her muddled brain.
“For so long, I couldn’t even kiss you.” His brogue was deep and husky. “To have you in my arms and to be able to touch you is heaven. Right now, I don’t need anything else.”
For a long moment, emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “Really? Because I want a great deal more out of you,” she finally replied in a wobbly voice. “I didn’t just marry you for your sterling intellect.”
“Such a shocking confession, my lady.”
He leaned down to flick a tongue between her lips, and before she could kiss him back, his mouth drifted down to her neck. He kissed his way lower, leisurely building her arousal. Ainsley closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations sparking to life in her body. A spike of heat flared in her belly, and a delicious ache began to gather between her thighs.
She knew her body, and she knew what it was capable of—had once been capable of. To know she could still respond to a man’s touch—her husband’s touch—flooded her with unspoken gratitude.
Royal’s hand moved to her bodice. “These fripperies are almost too pretty to take off. So much ribbon and lace.”
His hand traced along the top of her stays, his calloused fingertips making her shiver. When one finger dipped down to touch her nipple, she bit her lip to hold back a groan.
He glanced up. “Do you like that?”
She nodded, too breathless and shy to reply.
“Splendid. You are, however, rather laced up.”
She grimaced. “Drat. They’re back-lacing stays. Silly of me to forget that.”
As wonderful as his attentions were, and as much as she wanted them, Ainsley wasn’t sure she was ready to strip off her gown and allow Royal to unlace her stays. But considering how far she’d gone, it seemed silly to develop such qualms now.
She tried to struggle up into a sitting position. “Here, let me—”
Royal gently pushed her back down. “No need. Just relax.”
“I’m trussed up like a Christmas goose. It won’t be easy to get to the good bits.”
“Never fear, I’ll get to all of them in good time. There’s no need to rush into anything.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re practicing, remember?”
As usual, he knew what she was feeling without her having to say a word. “And what are you practicing at the moment?”
“How to undress my wife without embarrassing her.”
“I suppose it’s silly of me to be so shy about it.”
He kissed her eyebrow, then wandered down over her cheek, slowly making his way to her mouth. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, exerting a gentle, provocative pressure. Ainsley clung to him. Within moments, she was once more trembling in his arms.
“Still feeling shy?” he asked.
“Me, shy?” She sounded breathless. “You must be joking.”
“Good. Then let’s practice some more.”
He hooked two fingers into the top of her stays. They were laced quite snuggly, but with several firm tugs on the quilted fabric and some wriggling on her part, Royal was able to slip a hand inside her shift and ease her breasts up over the top of her undergarments. It took some doing, since her curves were generous, but her husband didn’t seem to mind.
Neither did she. His warm, caressing hands felt utterly delightful.
“There you are, my beauties,” he murmured when her breasts finally eased free. “You were certainly worth the wait.”
Ainsley couldn’t help but giggle.
He gave her a lazy smile. “Do I amuse you, Mrs. Kendrick?”
“You’re talking to my bosom, Mr. Kendrick.”
“I told you once that I wanted to build a monument to your breasts. Now that I’ve actually seen them, I’m going to begin construction immediately.”
“Perhaps not quite
immediately.”
“Perhaps not,” he said with a deep chuckle.
He curled a hand around her breast, cupping it. “You’re so damn pretty, Ainsley. I can hardly believe I’m finally touching you.”
“I love you touching me,” she whispered.
When he scraped a gentle thumb across her nipple, Ainsley caught her breath. As he played with the rigid tip, gently flicking it, she couldn’t hold back a whimper. Pleasure arced from that tight point to the gathering arousal in her sex.
“Och, that’s lovely,” Royal growled.
He slid his palm back and forth over the tip. Ainsley arched her back, pushing her body into his hand, silently begging for more.
With a husky laugh that sounded close to a groan, he complied. For deliciously agonizing minutes, he played with her breasts, sending her into a daze of sensual pleasure. When he wrapped his fingertips around her nipple and gently twisted, Ainsley all but levitated.
“Royal,” she gasped, “you’re driving me insane.”
“But you want more, don’t you?”
“Yes, you booby. Do something!” She froze, mortified. “Oh, God, I sound like an idiot.”
His only reply was a knowing smile before his head came down to her breast.
Ainsley gasped when he took her nipple into his mouth. It was a thrilling sensation, and she’d never felt anything like it. For long, luxurious minutes, he went from one breast to the other, nipping, tasting—and slowly driving her into sensual frenzy. Her breasts felt heavy and full, and her nipples ached, deliciously tormented by his hungry mouth.
She curled her fingers into his thick, silky hair, holding him close. She squirmed beneath him, still wanting, still needing more.
He finally drew back with a gentle, lingering pull. His gaze glittered with passion, making her lightheaded. It was almost terrifying to feel so much and know that she’d also roused him to such heady desire.
Despite his devouring gaze, his mouth lifted in one of his lovely, tender smiles. “I’ll give you whatever you need, sweetheart. Just tell me if it’s all right to touch you.”
“You’ve been touching me quite a lot, in case you’ve failed to notice,” she hoarsely replied.
His hand drifted down to rest low on her belly. “Down there, I mean.”
Ainsley sucked in a breath. Her breasts, still damp from his attentions, quivered. He’d worked her into such a state that she barely knew what to do with herself.
Actually, she did. “If you don’t touch me, I’ll be forced to do the job myself.”
Then she clapped a hand over her mouth. What an appalling thing to say to one’s husband, especially during their first time together.
Royal choked out a startled laugh.
“What is so blasted funny?” she asked.
“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?”
She sighed. “May I remind you yet again that I’m not very good at this sort of thing?”
“Nonsense. You’re splendid at this sort of thing, though I must admit that I would quite
enjoy watching you pleasure yourself.”
“Royal Kendrick!”
“Another time, perhaps?”
She grabbed the collar of his nightshirt. “If you don’t get on with it, I can safely promise that there won’t be another time.”
When he laughed again, Ainsley contemplated boxing his ears. Fortunately, he pressed a firm hand between her thighs, right on the perfect spot. Even through the bunched fabric of her garments, it felt wonderful. When his fingers shifted, gently rubbing her, she didn’t even try to hold back a moan.
“My beauty,” he murmured. “Does that feel nice?”
She curled a hand around his neck and drew his face down to hers. “Very
nice.”
Then she took his mouth, pouring all her pent-up emotions into the kiss.
Royal quickly took control, feeding her desire with kisses that robbed her of all coherent thought. He seduced her with deep glides of his tongue, tasting her with urgent passion. All the while, his hand stroked her through the fine linen of her shift. As the fabric grew damp, tiny contractions began in her womb, building toward her climax.
Ainsley arched her hips, pushing into his hand, seeking the burst of heat and light that would bring her relief. She hovered close to the brink, but then Royal gentled his movements, stoking her frustration as well as her desire.
Feeling more than a bit desperate now, she wrapped both hands around his neck and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth. With a frantic whimper, she pressed close, seeking both shelter and pleasure within his strong embrace.
“That’s my beautiful girl.” His mouth devoured her with a hunger that made her shiver.
Seeking release, Ainsley rubbed her breasts against his brawny chest and felt his erection jerk in response. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand. For a wild moment, she wished his hard length was parting her damp folds and filling her up until she came apart in his arms.
When Royal finally released her from the soul-stealing kiss, he loomed over her, his eyes glittering like the green lights that lit up the northern night sky. His whisky-scented breath washed over her in hot, short bursts, and his features were tight with masculine need.
“God, lass, you’re so bloody gorgeous. And your body . . .”
He cupped her breast, feeling the voluptuous weight before rubbing his palm over her aching, stiff nipple. Ainsley cried out as her climax danced just out of reach.
“Please, Royal,” she gasped. “Please don’t stop. I need you to touch me everywhere.”
“I need that too, more than I need to breathe.”
Then, finally
, he slipped his hand under her skirts. His blunt fingertips gently parted her, finding the tight bud slick with her arousal. When he flicked it, a bolt of fire shot through her, and she couldn’t hold back a strangled cry of need.
“Let yourself go, my love,” he crooned. “I promise to keep you safe.”
Held securely in his firm embrace, Ainsley did just that. When he spread her legs, exposing her fully to his touch, she shut her eyes and let sensation—and Royal—rule her body. His fingers danced over her sex and teased the sensitive opening of her body, building pleasure in a relentless wave. Her mind turned soft and dark, as if wrapped in plush velvet.
Clumsily, Ainsley reached for him, vaguely needing to pleasure him, too.
Royal pressed her back into the mattress. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered.
She didn’t have the strength or the will to resist.
His heat surrounded her, his body brawny and hard. Everywhere he touched, fire raced through her veins to burn deep in her core. All the while, he poured out his love for her in tender, arousing words, telling her how beautiful she was, how strong she was, and how he adored her.
Finally, it was all too much. Her body, heart, and soul needed release.
She dragged open her eyelids and met his searing gaze.
“Look at yourself, Ainsley,” he rasped. “Look at how magnificent you are.”
She glanced down at her body, disheveled and half-naked, her clothes twisted around her. Her breasts were full and pink from his attentions, and her legs had fallen open, pliant and weak from his touch. But it was the sight of his hand on her sex that truly gave her a jolt. He cupped her gently but possessively, claiming her in a way that was shocking yet utterly erotic.
He smiled down at her. “My brave lass, I am the luckiest bastard on the planet to hold such beauty and heart in my arms.”
For a moment, she blinked back tears. Then he did something with his fingers that drew a cry from her lips. His hands slicked over her tight bud, circling and teasing, quickly driving her into a sensual frenzy.
“Royal,” she gasped.
“Yes, now. Let go, my love.”
One final stroke from him and she tumbled. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the joy explode throughout her body. For once, she didn’t hold back. For once, she let herself feel everything
, knowing she was safe and secure in his arms.
Eventually, her shudders subsided. Royal kissed her damp forehead and smoothed back her hair with such tenderness that she had to stifle a sniffle or two. Ainsley settled into his arms, trying to catch her breath and find herself after the release that had swept through her like a summer storm.
Yes, she’d felt desire before, but nothing like this. Her husband’s touch had sparked a fire that had all but consumed her.
It was earth-shattering—and thoroughly disconcerting.
She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Royal tucked her close, cradling her with the protectiveness that was second nature to him. There was nowhere safer than in her husband’s arms, despite what her old, damaged self was trying to tell her.
Even so, she couldn’t hold back a few sniffles. Gratitude, vulnerability, and love were all mixed in one confusing, glorious mess, and she’d need more than a few minutes to sort it out. She’d probably need a lifetime—a lifetime with Royal, she hoped.
He caressed her shoulders, his touch warm and gentle. She felt him shift a bit, and his mouth brushed the top of her ear.
“All right, love?” he murmured.
She rubbed her face against the soft linen of his nightshirt, drying her tears and feeling more than slightly embarrassed by her overwrought reaction. The last thing her poor husband needed was a hysterical wife who came apart at the seams whenever he touched her.
“I’m very well, thank you,” she said, mustering a smile. “Although I’m acting rather like a foolish chit, aren’t I? I suspect I’ve ruined your shirt.”
His malachite gaze glittered with banked passion, but his smile was tender and so loving that it threatened to bring more tears to her eyes.
Stop being a watering pot.
“You can ruin all my shirts, especially if it gets you into my bed.” He passed a thumb over her cheek, catching a stray tear. “But you’re sure I didn’t hurt you or upset you in any way?”
“You mean you couldn’t tell? I would think it quite obvious what just happened to me.”
He flashed a rather smug grin. “Yes, I was aware of that part of the business, but I’m not used to you crying. You hardly ever cry. Twice in one night is disconcerting, to say the least.”
Ainsley patted his chest. “Just like a man. Runs at the first sight of tears.”
He pulled her closer. “Do I look like I’m running?”
The evidence of his arousal was still apparent. “Thankfully, no,” she said with a choked laugh.
“Good.” His smile faded as he tipped up her chin. “But tell me why you’re crying.”
“It’s nothing to worry about, dearest. I was simply a little overwhelmed by the emotion of the moment. You have to admit it’s something of a milestone—for both of us.”
He tenderly cupped her cheek. “One I am most happy to have achieved with you, my dearest heart.”
She couldn’t resist wriggling against him and had to suppress a smile of glee when he sucked in a breath.
“It’s only a partial milestone,” she said, “given the state you’re in.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t mind in the least. I simply want you to be happy and enjoy yourself.”
“But I want you to be happy, too.”
“I am happy, Ainsley. With you in my arms, I could wish for nothing more.”
Again, she lifted a brow. “Really?”
“Well, obviously I could wish for something more, but I’m willing to wait.”
“I’m not. I want us to be happy together.”
He lowered his head to study her face. “I’m assuming that happy together
is not some vague euphemism?”
“You really are a bit dense at times. I’m talking about sex.”
When he continued to regard her with a degree of skepticism, Ainsley decided it was time for a little challenge—and before her nerves did
get the better of her. “If, that is, you’re up to it.”
He laughed. “Is that a dare? Because it’s one I’m perfectly capable of meeting.”
“Good, because—oh, drat. Would that hurt your leg? Maybe we’d better not. You might strain it.”
“Wife, I’m more than capable of having sex with you without using my leg.”
“Truly?”
“Let me show you.”
Without any further ado, he wrapped his hands around her waist and picked her up, depositing her with easy strength onto his lap.
“Goodness,” she said, feeling a little breathless.
“There, see?” he said with a wicked smile as he arranged her to fully straddle his hips. “I think this will be the perfect position for both of us.” His questing fingers went to her stays, which were twisted sideways, half exposing her. “This doesn’t look very comfortable—”
When a thunderous knock sounded against the door, Ainsley squawked and almost tumbled backward.
Royal grabbed her arms and steadied her. “Easy, lass.”
She pressed a hand to her pounding heart. “Who is
that?” she gasped.
“Likely just one of the servants checking on me. I’ll—”
“Laddie boy, are ye all right in there?” yelled Angus.
“Dammit to hell,” Royal muttered. Then he raised his voice. “I’m fine. Go away.”
“I’ll no be doin’ that until I check on that leg of yers. I’m comin’ in whether ye will it or no.”
Ainsley yelped and rolled sideways, trying to clear the bed before the old man charged into the room. When her knee connected with some part of Royal’s body, he let out a strangled cry as she scrambled down to the floor. Desperately, she yanked her stays over her breasts and pulled her bodice back into place. Then she popped up to look at her husband, terrified that she’d hurt him.
He was curled forward in a ball, his face a rictus of agony.
“Oh, my God, did I hurt your leg?” she blurted out. “Royal, I’m so sorry.”
Angus barreled up to the bed. “What the hell is goin’ on in here?” He scowled at Ainsley. “What did ye do to him, ye daft girl?”
Still in a crouch, Ainsley struggled to pull her tangled skirts over her legs. “I . . . I don’t know. I think I might have done something to his leg when I, um, got off the bed.”
Angus looked blank for a moment before peering down at his grandson. A slight smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. “I dinna think it’s his leg ye hurt.”
Her terror abated a jot.
“Are you sure?”
Cautiously getting up, she got a good look at Royal. He’d uncurled a bit, but his face had gone a ghostly white and his hands were down between his legs, covering . . .
“Oh, dear,” she said, mortified.
“Aye, now that’s a sad end to the evenin’,” Angus said, clearly trying not to laugh.
Ainsley glared at him. “It’s your
fault.” She reached across the bed to pull the sheets up over her poor husband. “Here, Royal, let me help you.”
“That’s not the kind of help he needs, lass,” Angus said.
“I would be exceedingly grateful if you would both just get the hell out of here,” Royal said from between clenched teeth.
Ainsley’s stomach took a miserable twist. “Royal, I—”
“Please, Ainsley, just go
,” he snapped.
Feeling like an utter fool, she resisted blurting out yet another apology and fled the room.