Highland Hope by Julie Johnstone
Twenty-One
They collapsed onto their backs in a heap of laughter upon Royce’s bed, both still amused by Father Murdoch’s attempts to dance after the wedding. Chuckling, Eve rolled to her side to face Royce, her head buzzing pleasantly from the wine she’d had at the wedding feast. Royce rolled to his side, as well, swallowing nearly all the space between them. Eve didn’t mind a bit.
She drank in the comfort of his nearness. A dark lock of his hair fell across his forehead to cover one of his glorious blue eyes, and reaching out, she pushed the thick lock back. She marveled at him, her gaze running from his dark eyebrows—arched as he intently watched her—to his angular cheekbones, to his lips curved into an enticing smile, to his square jaw dusted with dark stubble.
“You’re my husband,” she said, still full of amazement.
“Aye.” The one word was underlain with a possessive note that made her smile and caressed her across the space between them even before he reached for her. He brushed his hand gently down the side of her face. “And ye’re my wife. I will thank God every day.”
His statement made her feel, deep in her bones, how much he loved her. As did his reverent touch. He trailed his hand from her cheek to her mouth and traced first her upper lip and then the lower one. Her heart jolted at his touch and ignited a fire in her belly. She was wed to this good, kind, and true man.
“I love you, Royce,” she whispered, unsure how to touch him and where to touch him but desperately wanting to do so. She placed her hand on his heart, and her eyes widened at the rapid beat that seemed to match her own.
He set his much larger hand over hers, his look so arousing it sent a tremor through her. “Nae nearly half as much as I love ye.” His rough, deep voice rubbed up against her.
“You think you love me more?” she teased, feeling so unbelievably happy.
“Aye,” he replied, leaning forward so that his dark head tucked under her chin. Then his lips brushed her chest very near her heart. “And I’ll show ye.”
“Will you now?” she replied, her own voice having grown husky.
He looked up then, blue eyes shining mischievously, and a delightful shiver of wanting coursed through her. “Aye, lass, touch by tender touch.”
The promise of what was to come made the pulse in the base of her throat swell as though her heart had risen, and it had. The hope within her made her heart float and filled her with a boldness unlike anything she’d ever known. She tugged her hand out from under his to run her fingers down his chest, all the way down to the edge of his braies, and she gave him a smile to convey how wicked he made her feel. “Show me, then, Scot, touch by tender touch, and I’ll match each of your caresses.”
He had her on her back and was straddling her so fast that she gasped. His hands came to either side of her shoulders, and he effectively caged her in with his arms and legs. It was thrilling. “Ye are a wee wicked lass, and I love it.” He leaned down, and she nearly bucked when he traced his tongue over the swell of each of her breasts. With his teeth, he tugged the material of her bodice down to expose her right breast. The air was warm in the bedchamber because a fire crackled in the grate, but excitement made gooseflesh sweep over her.
“What are ye—Oh!” she gasped as he cupped her breast with his hands and then took her in his mouth. Searing desire made her arch, and an intensely pleasurable ache sprang to life at her core. “Oh, Royce,” she moaned, her hands coming to the back of his head in an almost frantic gesture as his tongue swiveled around her nipple, making it harder and her breast fuller, and her heart faster. The ache at her core—dear heaven, that ache—was bliss.
He suckled and pulled on her right nipple until she was panting and pressing his head to her breast, desiring only more. When he released her breast, she cried out, feeling frustrated and uncertain why, except by now, her ache had turned to raw need. She needed him. She needed him in her.
“Do nae fash yerself, lass. I’m only giving attention to yer other breast,” he said, grinning devilishly and tugging the other side of her bodice down to make good on his words. His mouth took her left nipple in as his hands found the hard bud of her right breast, and heaven, did he know how to work his hands in perfect harmony with his mouth. As he licked and lavished one bud, he circled and massaged the other until she was in a frenzy, back arched, perspiration on her brow, heart pounding, and heat coursing through her as her loins constricted and throbbed. She gripped his thighs and then found her hands on his back, pressing him to her, needing more of him.
“Royce,” she said, his name a ragged plea from her lips.
He pulled back and looked at her, and the love shining in his eyes made her want to weep. “Ye need release.”
“Yes!” She felt as if she were the string of a bow pulled taut. He rolled off her, shedding his clothes as he stood but ridding himself of every article when he gained his feet. Her mouth parted in awe at the gleaming bronze of his hard body. Muscles defined every inch of him, and when she thought about their joining, her heart beat even faster.
He held his hand out to her, and as she gripped it, he tugged her off the bed. “Turn, lass, aye?”
She complied immediately, and he began undoing the laces of her gown. Soon her bodice gaped open, and his hands came to her shoulders as he slid the material down and off her arms. The feel of his fingertips on her bare flesh ripped a moan from her, which drew a growl from him. He pulled her gown down over her hips and let it drop to a puddle at her feet, and she quickly kicked it away as he lifted her arms to draw her underlayer over her head. A blush heated her skin at being so exposed, but before she could truly work up an embarrassment, he turned her around and kissed her lips, then the top of one breast and then the other.
“Ye are truly the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he said, scooping her up and into his arms to lay her gently on the bed.
He came down beside her, the bed creaking under his weight, and then his hands began to explore her body. He started with her legs, running gentle fingers up the length of them, and she moaned with the pleasure of his touch. Then his hands came between her thighs to part them. She bit her lip on the urge to protest. She trusted him.
Settling between her parted thighs, he kneeled before her as if to worship at an altar. He spread her wide to lick up her center, hot breath hitting her sensitive skin there, and his tongue… She could not think coherently for the pleasure it brought. At some point in his licking and twirling his tongue around this secret spot she had not known existed, she grabbed his shoulders and demanded he take her, her insides quivering and pulsing with need. She felt her own heated slickness, and she wanted to feel him against it.
“Ye want me to rut with ye like a beast?” he teased.
“Yes,” she panted. “Like a beast! Take me!”
Warm flesh touched warm flesh, her body tingling from the contact, as his hands slid under her bottom and he lifted her just a bit. “There’ll be the slightest pain,” he said, and then he nudged at her entrance, hot and hard. There was a moment of discomfort as he’d said, a stinging and stretching as he entered her, and then a feeling of fullness. He stilled, his face searching hers. “Are ye all right?”
The stinging was already starting to fade, and the fullness was pleasant, making the pulsing need return like a wolf baring its teeth. “I’m more than all right,” she assured him, sliding her hands up his back, then down his arms as he began to move. The friction of his body against hers, of him sliding in and out of her, made her tremble so that she clung to him.
Desire pounded through her heart to every part of her body, making the rush of blood hum in her ears. She was aflame, and within her, the fire built and built until she was sure she’d explode. And then she did. A downpour of fiery sensations overcame her as her insides constricted and pulsed around him, and he found his own release. The world around her seemed to spin as a floodtide washed over her, freeing her from her past and leaving only the glorious future before them.
He collapsed beside her, and she rolled toward him, settling against him, her head on his chest, his arm under her neck, her leg thrown over his. They were a hot, sticky mess, and the scent of lovemaking swirled around them. She inhaled deeply, then let out a shuddering sigh before glancing up at him. The fire cast a light that made his dark hair gleam like polished stone, and his brilliant blue gaze was brighter than any summer day she could recall.
“Eve, ye make me glad to have suffered the pain. I see the reason now. It was to find ye.”
She nodded, understanding perfectly. She had thought her chance for happiness utterly lost when she discovered who Frederick really was, as Royce must have felt his chance for happiness was lost when his wife had betrayed him. Yet, the sorrow made them stronger, more aware of what truly mattered to them in life, and made them able to find each other.
Overwhelmed with emotion, she kissed his chest, then his lips. It was meant to be a peck, but Royce deepened the kiss, filling her with a contentment she had believed out of her reach. “I would suffer the pain of Frederick again if I knew it would bring me to you,” she whispered.
“’Tis a good thing ye do nae have to, lass. Together, we will have happiness, love, and family, and those are the greatest gifts we can ever wish for.”
“We do not have to wish anymore,” she said, nuzzling into him and allowing her heavy eyelids to close. “I’ll sleep in the caim of your arms until the day I take my last breath.”
“And I in yers, my lass, my love, my wife.”