Highland Chieftain by Hannah Howell Page A

would have smiled except that his kisses would not allow it. Slowly the ache returned and the pain faded. She wriggled and he groaned.
    â€œStill hurt?” he asked, his voice hoarse and tense.
    â€œNay.” She frowned as she thought about how she felt. “Just full. Full of Callum.”
    â€œ Jesu . Now ye move,” he whispered as he grasped her by the hips again and moved her.
    For a moment she left it in his hands but her body soon demanded control. He finally let go of her to use his hands to caress her breasts as he kissed her on the mouth, her throat, her breasts. Bethoc could feel that aching tightness inside her growing stronger with every move she made. He grabbed her by the hips again to move her faster. She suddenly felt the tight ache break apart and her whole body shuddered from the force of the feeling that swept through her as she cried out. Callum slammed their bodies together a few times and then held her there as he groaned, and she felt something warm enter her before she collapsed into his arms.
    Callum held her close as they both struggled to catch their breath. It had been more than he had anticipated. He prayed this changed nothing, did not make her shy away from him, because he fully intended to do it again. As he lightly stroked her back he wondered if he had found the woman meant for him. He liked her, a lot, and now they had made love, which he also liked a lot. Callum was just not sure if all of that equaled love, the one thing his foster parents insisted was essential for a good match.
    Bethoc wriggled and, even though it stirred his interest, he let her go. He grinned at her blushes as she struggled to fix her dress then tried to discreetly dismount. When she turned to look for the braies he had tossed aside, he pulled his kilt down and sat up to reach for them where he had tossed them to the bottom of the pallet. After handing them to her he watched as she somehow managed to don them without exposing too much skin.
    â€œWhy do ye wear those?” he asked.
    She grimaced. “Several years ago I had a bad tumble in the garden and my skirts flew up. The boys either laughed or kept asking me where my, er, dangly was.”
    â€œYour dangly?” he choked out as he struggled hard not to burst out laughing.
    â€œThey were just little boys. Aye, dangly.” She shook her head when he laughed so hard he fell back on the pallet. “The older boys laughed too. But, after that embarrassing moment, I decided, weel, why cannae I wear what they do? Couldnae see why I shouldnae be able to.”
    â€œNay, except few lassies do. A lot of the Murray women do though.”
    â€œReally? Why?”
    â€œSame reason ye do, I suspicion.”
    â€œI am pleased to hear I am nay the only one to think of it. Weel, I really must be getting home now,” she said, trying desperately not to appear as if she was fleeing the place.
    There was no denying that was exactly what she wished to do. It had been wonderful while they had been doing it but now she could not think of a thing to say or how to act. Bethoc was desperately afraid she could all too easily make a fool out of herself.
    He stood up and reached for his walking stick. She stood there looking as if she was wanting to bolt out the opening so he put his arm around her waist and gently kissed her until some of the tension began to leave her body. What he had done was make her feel unsure, awkward, and that was the very last he had wanted to do.
    â€œYe arenae planning on staying away, are ye?”
    She rubbed her hands over her face, suspecting it gave away all her thoughts. “I cannae believe I just . . . I dinnae do that sort of thing. I didnae e’en ken what it was!”
    â€œI noticed.” He touched a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I am sincerely praying that ye will do it again with me though.”
    â€œYe are?”
    â€œDinnae sound so surprised, love.” He started to walk her to the