Tournament of Hearts (15 page)

His eyes drifted
to Isobel’s body.

He slid the gown
lower, exposing Isobel’s beautiful breasts.  The backs of his fingers brushed
the sides of her breasts as he continued to remove her gown.  It took every
ounce of his control not to cup her breasts in his hands and take her up thrust
pink nipples into his mouth.  He knew that Isobel had never been touched so
intimately by a man.  Knowing that he would be the first man, the only man to
touch his wife lit his blood afire.

Isobel’s breathing
was shaky.  Her eyes were trained on Tristan as he undressed her.

Tristan’s fingers
brushed the delicate curve of Isobel’s waist.

He slid the gown
lower yet.

His fingers glided
over the lush curve of Isobel’s hips.

The gown pooled in
a pile of ice blue silk at Isobel’s feet, revealing the lovely thatch of blonde
curls that shielded Isobel’s womanhood.

Tristan brought
his fingers up reverently and traced the soft curve of Isobel’s waist.

He felt her
shudder.

Gooseflesh broke
out on her skin.

Tristan’s gaze was
heated as his eyes danced over her skin.

Isobel stood
completely naked and unabashed in front of her husband.

She closed her
eyes and relished Tristan’s worshipful touch.

His fingers
trailed over her alabaster skin lovingly.  They danced over the curve of her
bottom and he cupped her gently, pulling her towards his chest.

“You are so
beautiful, Bella,” Tristan whispered.  His voice was deeper from his passion
and was filled with awe.

Isobel rested her
cheek against Tristan’s chest.  She inhaled his masculine scent.

“Make me your
wife,” she whispered against his heat.

Tristan’s heart
clenched in his chest.  He lifted Isobel in his arms and strode towards the
giant bed.  Laying Isobel gently atop the fur coverlet, Tristan admired her
beauty before settling himself on top of her.

He kissed her now,
nearly blinded by his passion.

His cock bucked
anxiously with need to fill her.

Isobel wrapped her
arms around Tristan’s neck.  The solid weight of him on top of her, the
delicious feel of his muscular chest and thighs pinning her to the bed was
ecstasy.  Her body was overwhelmed with new, pleasurable sensations.  Tristan’s
mouth was hot upon her skin.  He trailed kisses lightly down her neck, over her
collarbone.

And what he did
next stoked the fire burning within Isobel into a raging inferno.

Tristan cupped
Isobel’s breast in his palm.  He needed to taste her perfection.

When he flicked
his tongue over Isobel’s up thrust nipple, a surge of immeasurable pleasure
zipped down her spine. 

She moaned loudly
and scored her nails down the flesh of Tristan’s back.

When Tristan began
to suckle her, Isobel was sure that she had died and gone to heaven!  Never had
she imaged such a delicious sensation.

Tristan worshipped
her breasts, kissing and licking her nipples until they stood erect from his
touch.  His cock ached with need to be inside of her, bust he cast aside the
needs of his own body.

Isobel’s pleasure
would come first.

He rose above her
and looked into her blue eyes.  Isobel’s eyes were clouded with passion,
passion that Tristan had kindled within her.  She had a look of raw wonderment
on her beautiful face.  Tristan smiled warmly at her and trailed his fingers
over her belly.  He circled her navel languidly and then slid his fingers
lower.

When his fingers
danced over the blonde curls that shielded Isobel’s virginity, Isobel gasped. 
Tristan’s lightest touch sent ripples of pleasure thrumming through her whole
body.  Her muscles began to quiver with anticipation.  It was as if the fire
within her was about to consume her.

And then Tristan
touched her
there.

Isobel gasped as
Tristan’s fingers parted her.  He growled at the wetness that he found between
her thighs.  His fingers stroked her, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through
Isobel’s body.

Isobel was so hot,
so wet.  Tristan fought his aching need to join with her.  He wanted to drive
his cock deep within her, making her fully his own.  His cock strained against
the fabric of his kilt.

He needed to be
inside of her.

Now.

Tristan rolled off
of Isobel and removed his kilt.  He moved himself between her thighs.  His
fingers brushed over Isobel’s heat again, stroking the sensitive nub hidden in
her most intimate flesh.

“Tristan!” Isobel
cried out.  She raked her fingernails over the skin of his back, his shoulders.

She wanted more. 
She needed more!

Tristan took his
cock in his hand and positioned it at the entrance of Isobel’s sheath.  He knew
that she would be hot and tight.  His cock bucked as he imagined how she would
squeeze him as he entered her.

“Bella,” he rasped
huskily.  “Look at me, Bella,” he insisted.  It took every ounce of Tristan’s
control to stop himself from driving into her right then.

Isobel’s blue eyes
flashed open.  Her lips were parted and her breath came in wanting pants.

“I want you to
look at me when I take ye,” Tristan said.

“Make me your
wife,” Isobel said wantonly.

Holding her gaze,
Tristan thrust into her, tearing through the barrier of her virginity.  He
growled as his body was overcome with a blinding wave of pleasure.  Isobel was
so wet, so tight, just as he had imagined that she would be.

And she was
crying.

He had hurt her.

“It will feel
better in a moment,” Tristan said tenderly through gritted teeth.  “I’m so
sorry that I’ve hurt ye, love,” he whispered as he kissed her tears away.

Isobel felt as if
Tristan had just split her in half.  He filled her so completely, stretching
her to the point of pain with his invasion.

She wrapped her
arms about his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.  Tristan’s scent
calmed her.

Tristan’s muscles
quivered with the effort that it took to remain still within Isobel.  He would
give her time to adjust.  Every masculine instinct told him to move, to drive
into her, to seat himself to the hilt and spill his seed deep within her womb.

He fought against
the instincts of his body mightily.

He would give
Isobel time to adjust.

Isobel took in a
shaky breath.  She moved her knees up slightly.

Tristan gritted
his teeth and buried his face in Isobel’s hair.  That didn’t help.  She smelled
like lavender.  Her scent was so thoroughly arousing that Tristan did not know
how much longer he could hold out.  His muscles were tense.  His teeth were
clenched.

Isobel felt the delicious
tickle of Tristan’s chest against her nipples.  A wave of pleasure zipped
through her body.  She moved her hips slightly.

Tristan’s
breathing was ragged.

She couldn’t move,
not like that if she wanted him to remain still!

Isobel moved
again.

She felt the fire
rekindle within her.

She kissed
Tristan’s neck.

Holding his weight
on his elbows, Tristan looked down at his wife.

Isobel smiled
slightly, her eyes again clouded with desire.

“Is it alright,
love?” Tristan asked hopefully.  He knew not how much longer he could remain
still.

“Aye,” Isobel
whispered as she moved her hips experimentally.  She closed her eyes as a wave
of pleasure sent goose flesh rippling over her skin.  “It’s alright,” she
whispered.  “Better than alright,” she smiled.

Her words were all
of the invitation that Tristan needed.

He withdrew
himself almost fully and then slid inch by delicious inch into Isobel’s heat. 
She consumed him, fueling his passion with the way that she innocently squeezed
his cock.

Isobel moaned
against his shoulder.  Tristan withdrew himself again and entered her
powerfully, seating himself to the hilt in her sheath.

Isobel cried out
with pleasure.  Her pain was gone, completely replaced with pleasure as she
felt Tristan’s cock imbedded deep within her.  He drove into her powerfully
now, heightening her pleasure with each stroke of his manhood.  Never had
Isobel experienced such a complete, all consuming feeling.

Tristan slid his
hand between their joined bodies and found the bead of Isobel’s desire.  He
stroked her, flicking his finger expertly over her clitoris as he sank his cock
into her again and again.

Isobel arched
against him, allowing him to sink even deeper into her heat.

“Tristan!” she
moaned as her inner muscles began to tremor. 

Tristan was lost
in his passion.  He drove into Isobel with unflagging joy, seeking only to
bring her more and more pleasure. He increased the cadence of their love
making, driving her closer to the brink of her release.

Isobel felt as
though the fire within her was consuming them both now.  Its flames danced
around their joined bodies, heating their blood as they became lost in their
love making.

She clasped her
arms around Tristan’s neck as she found her release.  Her body trembled as
waves of pleasure consumed her, resounding deep within her very soul.  She
moaned against Tristan’s neck as her body shook with the uncontrollable spasms
of her orgasm.

“Tristan!” she
screamed.

Tristan felt the
power of Isobel’s orgasm, which spurred his own release.  He withdrew himself
fully and then plunged into Isobel, pumping twice more before seating himself
to the hilt and spilling his seed deep within her womb.  He growled in ecstasy
as he came inside of his wife.  His muscles contracted and trembled with the
overwhelming nature of his release.

Never in his life
had Tristan felt such a response to a woman.

Regaining control
of himself, he rose up onto his elbows so that he could look upon Isobel.

“Are ye alright,
love?” he asked tenderly as he stroked Isobel’s face.

“Aye,” Isobel said
with an awestruck smile.  “I didn’t know!” she gasped as her blue eyes searched
Tristan’s face.

“Now you do,”
Tristan chuckled as he nuzzled his wife’s blonde curls.  They were deliciously
disheveled and he reveled in the joy of how they had gotten that way.  “I do
love ye, Bella,” he whispered as he nipped at her earlobe.

Isobel captured
Tristan’s face between her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes.  She could
still feel him inside of her.  Never had she felt so loved, so joined both
physically and emotionally with another person.

“I love you,
Husband,” she whispered as she drew Tristan’s mouth towards hers.  Tearing her
mouth away from Tristan’s, Isobel placed her palm flat against the center of his
chest.  “And I feel like half of my heart beats here in your chest.”

“Then I’ll
endeavor tae take good care of your heart, Bella,” Tristan whispered with a
lop-sided smile.  “Because you have stolen mine completely.”

..oo      Chapter Nineteen     oo..

Isobel awoke in a
panic. 

Her limbs were
trapped and she was completely unable to move.  Her eyes flew open and scanned
the unfamiliar chamber, her breath hitching in her constricted throat.

Tristan.

The corner of her
mouth turned up into a blissful smile.  Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim
light of morning and she shifted her head slightly so that she could look upon
her husband.  The novelty of waking up next to Tristan was decadent.  She felt
like a new woman entirely.  There was a dull ache deep inside of her from when
Tristan had entered her.  Isobel’s inner muscles pulsed with anticipation. She
was a bit sore, but it was of no consequence.

 She wanted to
feel her husband inside of her again.

Isobel lay upon
her back, pinned to the feather mattress by her husband. No wonder she had not
been able to move.

Tristan was fast
asleep with his arm wrapped protectively underneath her breasts and his hand
resting on her shoulder.  His leg trapped both of her own, securing her to the
mattress with its muscular weight.  Isobel curled her toes in delight and
relished the solid weight of Tristan heavy against her body.  He was all
strength and power and yet he had been so very gentle with her last night.

Isobel could not
move and she couldn’t have been happier.

She tilted her
head and looked over at Tristan, his face only inches from hers on the pillow. 
The dim light of morning made him appear young, almost boyish as he slept.  His
dark lashes rested upon his cheeks and his lips were parted slightly.  Isobel
watched as his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids and the corner of his mouth
tugged up into a smile that was barely perceptible.  He was dreaming.  Isobel
hoped that he was dreaming about her.

Her eyes traced
the rugged line of his jaw which was dotted with the night’s growth of
stubble.  Isobel fought the sudden urge to trace her finger down his jaw line,
which was currently not possible as her hand was trapped beneath the weight of
her husband.

Never in her life
had she felt more content that she did at this very moment.  Feeling the
palpable strength of her husband, sleeping in the safety of his strong arms was
pure bliss. 

She was a married
woman, the wife of the Laird.  Isobel studied Tristan’s face.  He would make an
excellent Laird and together they would make her father proud.  Tristan was a
natural leader of men and she knew that he would work tirelessly to uphold her
father’s memory.

Isobel snuggled
against Tristan.  She closed her eyes and wished that they could stay in this
fragile bubble of happiness forever.

..ooOOoo..

“They’ve come! 
The Grants are attacking the keep!” Brandon screamed as he pounded against
Tristan and Isobel’s chamber door.

Tristan sprung
from the bed and hastily pulled on his kilt.

“Cover yerself!”
he said to Isobel as he cast her a mournful look.  His heart beat wildly in his
chest.  His precious wife was in danger.  The clan was in danger and it was now
his duty to protect Clan McLaughlin.

Isobel pulled the
quilts up over her naked body.  She watched in horror as Tristan dressed
hastily and opened the door.

Brennan stood wide
eyed in the corridor.

“They’ve come by
the hundreds, Tristan!  I’ve rung the bells.  Rogan and Hector will be readying
the men.”

“We will defend
what is ours!” Tristan roared as he tucked his dagger and sword into his belt. 
He grabbed his cousin by the shoulders, looking him intently in the eye. 
“Protect my wife as we spoke of.  Tell no one of where you are going.”

“No!” Isobel
screamed.  “I’ll stay here with you!  I’ll not leave!”

“You will do as I
bid!” Tristan ordered, his eyes challenging Isobel against disobeying.

Isobel’s heart
thundered in her chest as fear gripped her.   In the span of only a moment,
Tristan had turned from a tender lover into a powerful warrior.

She was afraid
that she would lose him.

“Now is not the
time to argue, love,” Tristan said, his voice softening as he saw the fear in
Isobel’s eyes.  “Tis for your safety!” he added, shaking his head to discourage
Isobel from pressing the issue further.

“I don’t want to
leave you!” she cried.

“Leave us for a
moment,” Tristan commanded dismissively as he ushered Brandon into the
corridor.

Isobel leapt from
the bed and pulled on her gown.

“I
will not
leave you!” she said defiantly as she squared her shoulders and placed her
hands on her hips.

“Listen tae me,
love,” Tristan said hurriedly as he took Isobel gently by the shoulders.  “It
is my duty to keep you safe.  The Grants are a worthy foe and they’ve risen
against us in the hundreds.  ‘Tis no longer safe for you here,” he said gently
as he trailed his fingers lovingly down Isobel’s cheek.  “Brandon will take you
somewhere safe.  I cannot defend McLaughlin keep while I am worried about your
safety!  Do not argue with me further,” Tristan said sternly, his jaw set in a
hard line.

Tears gathered
behind Isobel’s eyes but she refused to let them fall.  She nodded once and
stood on her tip toes and kissed her husband.

“I cannot live
without you,” she whispered as she traced the line of Tristan’s jaw.

“Nor can I live
without you.  And that is why Brandon will take you somewhere safe.  I love
you,
mo sonuachar
,” Tristan said as he kissed her hard and then released
her shoulders.  “Trust Brandon.  Brandon and my brothers will keep you safe in
the event that I cannot.”

Isobel stood
frozen in place.

Tristan had all
but admitted that there was a chance that he would not return to her. 

Isobel was
completely numb.  Her fingers trembled and she clenched them into the fabric of
her gown.

Tristan left her
standing in the middle of their chamber.  He stormed towards the door and
opened it, ushering Brandon back into the dark chamber.  “Protect her with your
life,” he said fervently.

“Aye,” Brandon nodded in agreement.

Tristan slammed
the door and raced down the stairs to lead Clan McLaughlin into war.  He knew
that this battle would be the first test of his Lairdship and he vowed not to
fail.  His mind raced through the preparations that needed to be made to defend
the keep, but despite his best efforts, his mind always circled back to Isobel.

Lord keep my
wife safe.

..ooOoo..

Isobel now knew
the reason that Tristan had chosen to inhabit the chamber at the end of the
corridor.

 The new Laird’s
chamber held a secret.

Tucked behind a
heavy armoire was a secret passageway out of the keep.

Brandon had
obviously known of the secret for as soon as Tristan had left the room, he had
allowed Isobel to collect a few items and then ushered her into the narrow
stairwell that was hidden behind the armoire.

Fear beat a
sickening rhythm in Isobel’s chest as she raced down the tiny stone steps.

Tristan had chosen
this chamber because of the secret passageway.

Genuine terror
rushed through Isobel’s veins, causing her fingers to tremble as she lifted the
skirts of her gown.

Tristan must
have known she would someday need to escape.