One dark brow edged up, and he smiled with a hint of masculine amusement. “Haven’t you been taught from the cradle we’re all barbarians, Lady Gillian?”
He looked the furthest thing from a barbarian in a fitted coat of dark claret-colored velvet, his neck cloth pristine, tailored breeches clinging to his hard thighs. As always, his unusual eyes had a slightly guarded look. She said, “No. My aunt and I lived a simple life, and the politics on either side of the border did not interest her. She taught me that people are simply people, no matter their heritage. Some are good; some are not.”
“She sounds very wise. At any rate, if we are already in bed, it makes it easier for the witnessing of the consummation. We can get married more formally in the chapel at Castle Cameron later, if you like.”
She’d heard of witnesses being used, of course, but certainly it was not a common practice except among royalty. “Is it strictly necessary?” she asked faintly, a little shocked at the prospect.
“The consummation? Oh, yes, from my point of view, definitely necessary.” There was meaningful suggestion in his soft tone.
“The witnesses,” she clarified, feeling mortified over the notion. “Which I have a feeling you know well was what I meant.”
“It will make the union bound in iron, from a legal standpoint.”
How he could sound unconcerned over doing something so intimate with people
watching
was beyond her comprehension, but she supposed if they were going to do this rash thing, it was best to make sure it couldn’t be contested. “I wish I could summon your casual attitude over this,” she muttered.
Her future husband simply looked bland. “They will not stay for the entire thing; don’t worry.”
Remembering her unrestrained enjoyment of the night before, she blushed again at the idea of anyone hearing her unladylike moans of pleasure. “I certainly hope not.”
Chapter 4
D
id the fool honestly think Thomas would not be able to extract the truth?
The crack rang through the room and the innkeeper fell to his knees, clutching his face. Blood poured from his nose, and the stupid man fairly sobbed for mercy.
Fortunately, the Earl of Kleiss was not familiar with that concept. Mercy was for weak idiots, and Thomas was neither an imbecile nor a spineless woman. Had the proprietor properly considered the repercussions of his lies, he might have saved himself a beating.
“If her uncle died, did this man kill him?”
“There was not a mark on his body and he was frail and ill. No, milord, he killed the men who tried to rob them, but not the old man.”
“Once again, I would have his name.” Thomas glared, not unaware his son had turned away, looking as if he disapproved of his method of questioning.
“He did not tell me,” the terrified man said again, his voice muffled. “I can describe him for you, but that is it. He paid in gold, and took the girl with him when he left, mounted on a great black horse.”
“He abducted her?” Thomas felt his teeth grind together. The innocent Lady Gillian was
his
. How could this happen?
“She went willingly, milord. At least as far as I could tell.”
“Why would she do that?” Thomas spat, the reek of the stale ale spilled on the floor of the taproom making him more irritated than ever. “He must have forced her, for she knew she was coming to me, to be my bride.”
For a moment, it looked like the idiot, bleeding and beaten as he was, might actually argue, but instead he said meekly, “I am sure you are right, Lord Kleiss.”
Malcolm, for once, was slightly useful. “Describe him, then, and tell us what direction they took. That’s all we want and we will be on our way.”
Apparently not willing to risk getting back to his feet, the innkeeper crouched on the floor and nodded. “He was tall, dark haired, with a slightly dangerous look about him. After all, he dispatched the highwaymen without trouble, didn’t he? Oh, yes, he had silver eyes; I noticed that. In the morn, he took the lass and rode east.”
Thomas looked into the innkeeper’s eyes and saw fear, but also defiance. Men had tried to deceive him before and not lived to regret the effort. He said with a cruel smile, “We’ll ride west, for I think you are trying to misdirect us. Malcolm, dispose of this ineffectual liar.”
His son’s normally ruddy face paled slightly. “He’s told us what he knows. He’s an old man, not a threat to us.”
Thomas lifted his brows. “Do it.”
“Father, I—”
“Do it, you blithering coward, or do I have to teach you again the measure of obedience?”
For a moment he thought Malcolm would argue further. Thomas stared him down, though his son was of a height. “You take after your mother a wee bit too much,” he said with vicious emphasis. “She was weak and good for one purpose only. I let you cling to her skirts far too long. Let’s face it—you’re soft, boy.”
Malcolm’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and he looked like he might actually draw it and challenge him. The fool always had been too attached to his mother, and had blamed him for her death. Thomas had beaten it out of him, but now and then the resentment resurfaced.
Over a woman. It was laughable.
“If you pull your weapon,” Thomas said coldly, “I advise you to use it to dispatch this stupid old man.”
Then he swung on his heel and exited the shabby inn, shouting to his men to mount up and head west.
The ceremony was brief—blessedly so, because he was more than ready for what came next.
It seemed his worries over performing for an audience were unfounded, Adain thought with self- mocking amusement. Only moments after he shed his clothes and slipped into the giant four-poster bed beside his lovely bride-to-be, he’d had an erection. With the sheet and blankets drawn to his waist, it was not visible to the man who performed the brief ceremony, or to their obliging host and hostess, but it was damned disconcerting to be so aroused so easily. Maybe his long abstinence had taken its toll and his hungry cock now knew it was permanently over. After Julia had married another, he hadn’t had the heart to engage in a casual dalliance.
He still didn’t, apparently, for this wasn’t casual at all.
Her smooth cheeks were tinted a rosy hue in embarrassment over the unorthodox setting for their nuptials, and Gillian’s slender fingers trembled just slightly as he clasped her hand. However, she recited her vows with quiet dignity, and signed the papers afterward in a clear hand.
And it was done.
He had married an Englishwoman he’d known for only a day. It sounded insane, but with the warmth of her tempting slender body beside him, it did not feel that way.
If the plump, cheerful man of God Harry had dragged away from his warm fire disapproved of the bedroom setting, he did not show it. Instead, he warmly congratulated them, put the correct seals on the documents, and gave an indulgent chuckle over Gillian’s scarlet face before he left. At a guess, it was not the first time he’d been summoned to perform a hasty wedding for two impatient lovers.
Harry, standing at the foot of the bed, also looked amused. His pretty wife, Anne, who was notoriously outspoken, gave Adain a look of grudging approval. “I’m glad you did the right thing, Adain Cameron, for I could tell by the way the two of you looked at each other at the dinner table, Lady Gillian would not be sleeping alone this eve.”
Next to him, Gillian made a small, muffled sound of what he guessed was mortification. Mildly, he responded, “I am not an irresponsible rogue, Annie. You know me better than that.”
“I know
all
men can be rogues.” She gave her husband a stern glance, but her tone was teasing. “Don’t try to look innocent, Harry McFerran.”
“Me? Never.” He slipped his arm around her waist and looked at Adain. He said quietly, “Whenever you are ready. We needn’t stay for more than a few minutes. Just long enough so I could give my word before a judge, if it came to that. Kleiss has enough influence in the courts that we need to be careful.”
Adain was certainly ready, but his bride probably wasn’t. He turned and gazed at her. Propped against the pillows, Gillian still wore her nightdress and looked young with her gold hair tumbled over her slim shoulders and her blue eyes demurely downcast.
Gently, he caught her chin and lifted her face so they looked at each other. He whispered, “If I did not think this was necessary, they would not be here. They can’t actually see us because we are under the blankets, and you can keep your gown on until they leave. Just relax, my sweet.”
“I’ll try,” she said, and her mouth curved into a small, bewitching smile.
God, you are so beautiful. . . .
Gillian reached up and touched his mouth, a featherlight brush of her fingertips. “You are beautiful, Adain,” she said so quietly only he could hear it.
Had he spoken out loud? He wasn’t sure, because just from that simple touch, his body ignited, and though she was obviously uncomfortable with the notion of the McFerrans being in the room, she did not protest when he leaned over and kissed her.
Her mouth was warm, silky, and she tasted like heaven.
It was his intention to lure her to arousal with tender caresses and soft words, but almost against his will, passion took over instead. His tongue slid into her mouth time and again, rubbing hers suggestively, teasing every corner. In sweet response, Gillian twined her arms around his neck and pressed passionately against him.
The last thing he needed was that kind of artless encouragement. Not when his throbbing cock ached to be buried inside her. Through the material of her nightdress his hand skimmed her body, feeling the enticing curves beneath the cloth. Slowly, he inched the hem upward until the material was bunched around her waist, all the while kissing her mouth, her neck, and the delicate line of her jaw.
Caressing her hip first to get her used to the notion of his touch, he slipped his fingers between her legs.
And found to his surprise, despite her nervous shyness, his gorgeous new wife was already wet. Sleek, hot, and definitely well on her way to arousal even with the witnesses in the room. She might look like an innocent angel, all golden hair, ivory skin, and blue eyes, but beneath it, she was a sensual woman. When he slid a finger deep into her vaginal passage, she made a small sound he knew was involuntary because of her trepidation, and her hips lifted in a movement he found impossibly erotic.
Silken softness, warmth, acceptance . . .
Very well, if she was ready, he certainly was more than eager. Shifting, he moved so he was braced over her, using his knees to part her legs. With his hand, he guided his stiff cock to her entrance and, with as much care as possible, sheathed himself deeply inside her.
Gillian caught his shoulders and arched into his penetration with an audible gasp.
Dimly, in the haze of pleasure, he heard the door close.
They were alone.
Raggedly, he said, “They’re gone.”
“Thank heavens,” she said on another audible swift intake of breath. “Oh, Adain.”
“My sentiments exactly.” He slid backward in a movement as controlled as he could make it, and surged forward.
The delicious friction almost sent him over the edge in just one thrust. “You’re so tight,” he managed to say through his teeth. “God help me, lass, I hope I can wait for you.”
Beneath him, Gillian smiled, her eyes shimmering suddenly. “If you cannot, don’t worry. We have the rest of our lives, remember? I imagine we will do this again.”
For a moment, he stilled, though it took every bit of his control. “I remember,” he said, his inner amazement over how it did not frighten him a revelation. He added with dark, sinful promise, “And, yes, we will do it many, many times, my sweet wife.”
The warm suction made Gillian’s eyes open, her lashes lifting in a languid movement. Adain’s dark head was bent over her breast, his mouth closed over the crest of the nipple, his tongue working magic with the sensitive tip. Small tingles of pleasure rippled through her body, centering between her legs in a seductive pulse.
It was very late, for the fire had burned down to almost nothing, the only illumination coming from the thin moonlight filtered by the draperies at the windows.
She could sleep another time, Gillian thought in a haze of rapturous enjoyment, her fingers sliding through her husband’s thick hair as he ministered to the other breast. This was her wedding night, and it certainly seemed Adain was determined to make the most of it. He’d taken her twice already, but it was more than obvious he was ready again.
“I could play with these all night,” he murmured against her skin, lightly licking into the valley between the mounded flesh in his hands. “So beautiful and female. Like all of you.”
And he was entirely male, with his hard, muscular body and imposing height, even the softness of his hair, masculine against the tensile strength of his neck. Gillian had to acknowledge a fascination with the part of him that lengthened and grew in evidence of his desire for her. At the moment, she felt the hardness against her hip, and she experienced a shiver of anticipation over what she knew was to come.
“I like it when you touch me,” she admitted, clasping him closer. “I know I am ignorant yet, so tell me, do women also touch men . . . well, I mean . . .
there
?”
He lifted his head, and the heat in his gaze was palpable, brushing her like a licking flame. “Aye, lass, they do,
if
they wish it.”
“I want to touch you.” It sounded like a brazen thing to say, but it was the truth. He had touched her everywhere, and even had those long, skillful fingers deep up inside her. The most she had done during their lovemaking was touch his shoulders and back and neck, but the memory of how his hard chest had felt beneath her palm the night before was intriguing. Though the man she had just married was decidedly working on her education, she was still avidly inquisitive.