Laird of Longing by Tammy Andresen

Chapter Ten

Sophie satin the room waiting for her husband, the name still sounding strange on her lips. Husband. Just like that she’d married him.

And despite her fears, she realized, just like that, she’d been saved.

He’d speak with her father. He would provide for her and care for her. Hughes couldn’t touch her now.

A long breath exited her lips. Perhaps in time, he’d even grow to care for her the way she did him. She’d never felt anything like it before, but she imagined this was how it felt to fall in love.

How could she not? He’d swept into her life, rescuing her from danger, keeping her safe and… She wrapped her arms about herself. He touched her with such gentleness, he stripped away her fears a little more each time they were together.

A sigh escaped her lips as the door opened again. “What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping toward him as he entered the room.

“Nothing,” he answered with a smile. “Tidemore came to the boat after we saw him. But since we’re already wed, it matters little.”

She gave a nod, trusting Ewan. “Thank you. For everything.”

He stepped up to her, his large palm cupping her cheek as his fingers slid into her hair. “There is a detail we need to discuss.”

She nodded, leaning into his touch. “Yes?”

He paused, his hesitation causing her to straighten. He grimaced. “We’ll have to consummate our marriage before we return to England.”

Her mother had discussed the particulars of consummation with her. In that she’d told Sophie it was her duty to submit even if the act pained her. What the act was, she couldn’t say. “Will it hurt?”

He rubbed her arms with his hands. “I hear that it does the first time. And I ken ye’re scared after what he did.”

She shook her head. “I’m not scared of you, Ewan. I trust you.”

He leaned down then brushing his lips against hers. The touch was soft, light, and achingly sweet. Any fear she might have felt vanished as he brushed his mouth over hers again. How could such a large, fierce man be this kind? But he’d always been that way with her.

And despite her worries about her heart, she’d meant what she’d said. In his hands she was safe.

His lips caressed hers again, a bit firmer, but no less tender. She brought her hands to his chest as she sank deeper into his arms. His touch was slow as he wrapped his arms about her back, stroking up her spine.

Tingling worked its way through her limbs as she wrapped her arms about his neck and sighed into his mouth. This was lovely.

They kissed for longer and longer, minutes stretching out until she lost all sense of time. All she could feel was him, all she wanted was his touch.

And when his fingers began to work open her buttons, she wasn’t afraid. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that she wished to be closer to him. Feel his skin with her hands.

Her dress fell away, and he pulled her close again. There was a deliberate slowness to every touch that made her both wildly excited and eased any worry. She was being worshipped, not accosted. And as his hands slid to her breasts, she didn’t shy away. In fact, she arched into the embrace; exquisite pleasure rippling through her as his thumbs lightly brushed her nipples through her chemise.

She gasped at the pleasure and he pulled away a bit looking down at her. “Are ye all right?”

“Yes,” she managed to push out through shallow breasts. “I didn’t know touching could feel this…good.”

That made him chuckle. He brushed back a stray lock of hair as he whispered in her ear. “Ye tell me if anything worries, bothers, or hurts ye Promise?”

Her insides turned to pudding. “Promise.”

And then he was kissing her again, his hands roving up and down her body, causing a riot of sensation. She was at ease in his arms and free to enjoy his touch. Her hands traced his shoulders, the muscles of his arms, but she couldn’t feel them with his shirt on and she tugged at the fabric.

He chuckled, and taking a step back, the shirt was over his head in a single tug. She drew in a jagged breath. She’d known he was muscular, but as she looked at him, he appeared even stronger as his chest rippled down to a tapered waist.

She stepped toward him, her hands running along his chest. He stood still, allowing her to explore his arms, back, and chest. Only the rapid rise and fall of his chest alerted her to the effort he made to hold back for her.

When she slid her hands around his neck, he pulled her closer, loosening the strings of her corset.

Once it was off, he picked her up, carrying her the short distance to the bed. As he lowered her to the bed, his weight on top of her, she had a moment where she wondered if being with him would frighten her. That feeling of being trapped. But this was Ewan and as his hand brushed back her hair, she wasn’t afraid in the least. She smiled up at him, realizing that with this man, the press of his body was exciting and comforting and not the least bit scary.

As she went to say all of this, his lips slid to the sensitive spot on her neck and then lower to her collarbone, blazing a trail across her chest.

He reached for the hem of her chemise and lifted it up over her breasts. When his lips sucked in the sensitive peak of her breast, she cried out, her hands threading into his hair.

But he kept moving lower still, pushing her pantaloons down as he kissed a trail across her belly, placing a tickly kiss in the crease of her leg and stomach.

And then he kept going. Brushing her thighs apart, his thumb trailed through the hair at the juncture of her legs along her most sensitive flesh.

She cried out, the pleasure so intense she was gasping for breath.

And when his tongue replaced his finger, her entire body pulsed and hummed with a building need.

* * *

Ewan had never experiencedsuch exquisite torture.

His body was taut as a bowstring as he forced himself to go ever-so-slowly, increasingly gentle. He loved every moment of the sweet, torturous exchange.

With slow gentle strokes, he moved along her intimate flesh, feeling the tension building within her.

Satisfaction rippled through him. No matter what else he did, he’d see her pleasured. He’d erase the fear that Hughes had left, and he’d teach Sophie that lovemaking was full of wonderful emotions.

He ignored the voice that said he was being so careful because he cared deeply.

He told himself it was for his own benefit. He’d married her, she’d bear his children. That may as well be an enjoyable process.

But even he knew his thoughts rang hollow.

Ewan cared for her. He wanted the best for her.

He closed his eyes, her scent wrapping around him.

Hell. He loved her.

Her fingers dug into his scalp, her moans and sighs growing frantic with need as she pulled him even closer.

Ewan growled out his pleasure as she tightened, clearly so close to coming undone.

He tried not to think about what his feelings meant. Emotion was not part of the bargain. He hadn’t even intended to marry this soon in his life and to allow himself to couple that with such strong emotion.

He was destined to be hurt.

Sophie tugged on his hair, pulling at his scalp, her touch anything but gentle, and he nearly laughed, loving the feel, the sound of her.

He put his thoughts aside as she shattered in his arms. He couldn’t worry about the future now, the present was too delightful, his emotions only making his desire stronger.

He climbed back up her body, kissing his way back to her lips as her legs wrapped about him.

And when the head of his manhood pressed into her slick folds, he let out a loud groan. Her hands skimmed down his back. “I’m ready,” she whispered in his ear.

“This is the part that might hurt. Just this time,” he ground out. He’d exercised such control but his will was slipping.

She wound her hands into his hair again. “I know you’d never hurt me. Not really.”

Those words shredded the last of his resistance. He wanted her so much. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her and here she was, underneath him, welcoming him inside her.

He pushed past her folds, her channel achingly wet and yet tight around him. He went slowly, his body aching with the effort, and when he finally pushed past her barrier, he felt her stiffen.

Ewan stilled. “Sophie?”

“I’m all right,” she said, stroking his back. “Keep going.”

He did, fully seating himself inside her. His control unraveled as he pulled back out and slowly moved back in. He’d not last very long like this, her whispering words he couldn’t hear in his ear, but somehow, they encouraged him, and he pushed back in.

He shuddered at the pleasure tightening every muscle in his body as he kept the slow rhythm going, moving in and out until her hips began to meet his.

That was his final undoing. The last of his control melted away and his body spasmed as he finished.

It was only then that he realized she’d talked the entire time, her breath still tickling his ear. “That was so beautiful. You’re so wonderful, Ewan. Thank you for making me your wife.”

The words caused their own ripple of pleasure, and he lifted his head to kiss her again. “Sophie,” he started, his voice hoarse as he looked down at her. Her lips were puffy, her cheeks flushed, her hair a halo about her head. She was thanking him?

He forgot all about his worries as he stared down at her. He ought to thank her. Had a man ever held something so beautiful in his arms? “I don’t ken how to do this.”

She smiled then—sleepy, and soft, and so lovely, he could barely breathe. She laughed lightly. “You seemed to know exactly how to do that.”

His eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant.” He drew in a breath. “I don’t ken how to be a good husband.”

His father had yelled, blustered, and hit. His mother had played cruel games to goad his father further. How had he ended up here? He’d never wanted this.

But Sophie, unaware of all these worries, only gave him another glowing smile. “Really? Because I can’t imagine you being any more perfect.”

He looked down at her as he slid to the side, tucking her body against his. She snuggled into him. “I was meant to find you, Ewan McLaren.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. How did he tell her that she wouldn’t always feel that way?