scissors.
David was his mother’s son, not the sort of man a gentle lass could love. But neither would he risk the lives of those who depended upon him out of weakness for a lass. Nay, he was not like his father.
And yet he could learn something from that scene he had observed through the crack in the door. He could mimic that affectionate gesture to soothe his bride and get what he wanted.
“Come sit on the stool, lass,” he said, “and I’ll comb your hair for ye.”
***
The Beast of Wedderburn wished to comb her hair? Alison did not know what to make of it. By this time on her first wedding night, Blackadder had ripped her shift and was pawing all over her. She was not at all sure what Wedderburn actually intended to do, but she took his proffered hand and let him lead her to the stool.
After retrieving her ivory comb from the narrow table against the wall, he stood behind her doing nothing except make her nervous.
“I’ve not done this before,” he said, “so tell me if I pull your hair.”
Was he jesting? With Blackadder, she had known what to expect, but Wedderburn was a paradox, by turns threatening and considerate.
He lifted the weight of her hair over his arm and slowly drew the comb through it from her scalp to the ends.
“How was that?” he asked.
“You’ve a gentler touch than the women who combed it earlier,” she said.
He chuckled, a deep, reassuring sound. “I do?”
“Aye, though ’tis not saying much,” she said, hoping to make him chuckle again.
“If they treated ye roughly,” he said, “they will be punished.”
“Please don’t,” she said quickly. “I am sure they didn’t mean to.” Of course, they had, but the women would find subtle ways to make her suffer in retribution if they were punished.
His “hmmph” in response could mean anything, but she had greater worries at the moment than disrespectful servants. Despite her fears, she felt her body begin to relax as he combed her hair with smooth, rhythmic strokes.
After a long while, he set down the comb, and she tensed again as he knelt in front of her and placed his hands on either side of her head. She tried to control her panic, but he could crush her head between those powerful hands. When he began to rub her temples, she drew in a shaky breath.
Why was he doing this? His handsome face was unreadable. After a time, she found it difficult to stay on her guard. As the tension left her body, it was replaced by an overwhelming tiredness, and her eyes drifted closed.
“By the heavens, you’re beautiful,” he said.
Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring into piercing green eyes just inches from hers. She could not breathe with him so close.
“I want ye so badly it hurts,” he said in a rough whisper, looking as though he would like to swallow her whole.
She braced herself, knowing what would come next.
“But we can take as long as ye like to become…acquainted.” His eyes held hers as he spoke, but his fingers drifted down the length of her arm and then encased her hand.
Her breath caught in her throat when he pushed her shift off her shoulder.
“I intend to become well acquainted with every lovely inch of ye,” he said, and pressed his lips to the skin he had just bared. “And I’ll have ye wanting me when we consummate this marriage.”
His pledge to wait until she wanted him was an empty one, unless he was willing to wait for all eternity. Still, Alison was grateful for whatever time it bought her.
He pulled her to her feet. When he cupped her cheek and locked his gaze on her mouth, her throat went dry. Her breath hitched as he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.
He was going to kiss her. She knew it would be different from Blackadder’s kisses, but she did not know how. Her heart beat wildly as he leaned down, inching closer and closer until she felt his breath on her mouth. When his lips finally touched hers, they were surprisingly soft, and hers parted on a sigh.
David was his mother’s son, not the sort of man a gentle lass could love. But neither would he risk the lives of those who depended upon him out of weakness for a lass. Nay, he was not like his father.
And yet he could learn something from that scene he had observed through the crack in the door. He could mimic that affectionate gesture to soothe his bride and get what he wanted.
“Come sit on the stool, lass,” he said, “and I’ll comb your hair for ye.”
***
The Beast of Wedderburn wished to comb her hair? Alison did not know what to make of it. By this time on her first wedding night, Blackadder had ripped her shift and was pawing all over her. She was not at all sure what Wedderburn actually intended to do, but she took his proffered hand and let him lead her to the stool.
After retrieving her ivory comb from the narrow table against the wall, he stood behind her doing nothing except make her nervous.
“I’ve not done this before,” he said, “so tell me if I pull your hair.”
Was he jesting? With Blackadder, she had known what to expect, but Wedderburn was a paradox, by turns threatening and considerate.
He lifted the weight of her hair over his arm and slowly drew the comb through it from her scalp to the ends.
“How was that?” he asked.
“You’ve a gentler touch than the women who combed it earlier,” she said.
He chuckled, a deep, reassuring sound. “I do?”
“Aye, though ’tis not saying much,” she said, hoping to make him chuckle again.
“If they treated ye roughly,” he said, “they will be punished.”
“Please don’t,” she said quickly. “I am sure they didn’t mean to.” Of course, they had, but the women would find subtle ways to make her suffer in retribution if they were punished.
His “hmmph” in response could mean anything, but she had greater worries at the moment than disrespectful servants. Despite her fears, she felt her body begin to relax as he combed her hair with smooth, rhythmic strokes.
After a long while, he set down the comb, and she tensed again as he knelt in front of her and placed his hands on either side of her head. She tried to control her panic, but he could crush her head between those powerful hands. When he began to rub her temples, she drew in a shaky breath.
Why was he doing this? His handsome face was unreadable. After a time, she found it difficult to stay on her guard. As the tension left her body, it was replaced by an overwhelming tiredness, and her eyes drifted closed.
“By the heavens, you’re beautiful,” he said.
Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring into piercing green eyes just inches from hers. She could not breathe with him so close.
“I want ye so badly it hurts,” he said in a rough whisper, looking as though he would like to swallow her whole.
She braced herself, knowing what would come next.
“But we can take as long as ye like to become…acquainted.” His eyes held hers as he spoke, but his fingers drifted down the length of her arm and then encased her hand.
Her breath caught in her throat when he pushed her shift off her shoulder.
“I intend to become well acquainted with every lovely inch of ye,” he said, and pressed his lips to the skin he had just bared. “And I’ll have ye wanting me when we consummate this marriage.”
His pledge to wait until she wanted him was an empty one, unless he was willing to wait for all eternity. Still, Alison was grateful for whatever time it bought her.
He pulled her to her feet. When he cupped her cheek and locked his gaze on her mouth, her throat went dry. Her breath hitched as he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.
He was going to kiss her. She knew it would be different from Blackadder’s kisses, but she did not know how. Her heart beat wildly as he leaned down, inching closer and closer until she felt his breath on her mouth. When his lips finally touched hers, they were surprisingly soft, and hers parted on a sigh.
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