chest. The muscles in his arms
bulged. Her mouth grew dry just looking at him. Perhaps she really was
unchaste. “Did I do something to make you believe I would welcome you in
my bed, before we were wed?”
“Nay, Mary.” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Then why did you come to me?” Her voice cracked and she struggled
to retain her composure. When he hesitated before answering, her hands
fisted at her sides.
His gaze fastened on her face. “You did nothing other than be the
woman you are. I wanted you to be my wife because of it, more than the
agreement between your clan and mine. But I did not think you would agree
to the match, and Collin meant to break the agreement.”
So he had come to her.
She swallowed against the painful knot in her throat. Her gaze
wavered from his face in an attempt to retain her composure. She had loved
him so, the thought of holding back had never occurred to her—but she had
never expected him to treat her with anything save respect. Now at least,
she understood his motives, but it did not ease the terrible sense of loss
the knowledge brought her.
To occupy her hands, and still their trembling, she moved to the
washstand to retrieve her brush then sat on the bed to tidy her hair. She
started as Alexander unbuckled the girdle from about his waist and allowed
his trews to fall to the floor. She stared at the muscular tautness of his
buttocks, thighs, and calves, and then quickly looked away. The many hours
on horseback and training at the art of war had honed his body to a state of
sleek, masculine perfection. The movement, as he bent from the waist to
wash his legs and feet, brought into play the muscles of his back and arms
and drew her attention despite herself. She forced her eyes away, her face
burning at the immodesty of her interest.
“Will you fold my fresh kilt for me Mary? ‘Tis in the chest.”
Grateful for the distraction, she quickly finished braiding her hair. She
rose to find him offering her his girdle. With her gaze carefully averted, she
snatched it from his hand. She placed the wide leather belt on the bed and
arranged the sheath for his sword and the leather sporran in which he
carried his possessions. She spread the kilt over the girdle and folded the
pleats in place. She sensed Alexander’s movements behind her and
straightened.
He moved close beside her, a shirt in his hands. The thick swirls of
auburn hair covering his chest tapered into a thin line past his navel, to
blossom into a thatch at his groin. His member protruded, long and flaccid,
from the center of it. Even as she watched, it grew in size and length,
stiffening straight out.
A feeling of helplessness raced through her. She stumbled back
surprised, embarrassed ,and turned to flee.
Alexander caught her about the waist, and pulled her back against
him.
“‘Tis a natural thing, my wanting you, Mary. I can not help the way I feel
about you anymore than I can stop breathing, but it does not mean I am
going to force you to serve me.”
His cheek, cool and beard roughened, pressed to hers. His breath,
warm against her ear, sent strange shivers up her spine. “I have not
touched you in any way you do not wish, have I, lass?”
“Nay.” Fear had nothing to do with the feelings running rampant
through her. Her hands ached to stroke the muscular forearms holding her.
The feel of his large male body fit so familiarly against hers had her breath
coming in ragged gulps. Her body grew weak with longing as he moved
against her. She wanted to turn against him and bring his lips to hers. Her
body ached to be closer in a way she found both exciting and confusing.
A fist pounded on the door. Duncan’s voice came from behind the thick
portal. “The MacNaughtens have struck the east pasture and stolen a small
flock. I’m going with David to see to it. Will you be coming, Alexander?”
He drew a deep breath. “Do you wish me to go,
bulged. Her mouth grew dry just looking at him. Perhaps she really was
unchaste. “Did I do something to make you believe I would welcome you in
my bed, before we were wed?”
“Nay, Mary.” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Then why did you come to me?” Her voice cracked and she struggled
to retain her composure. When he hesitated before answering, her hands
fisted at her sides.
His gaze fastened on her face. “You did nothing other than be the
woman you are. I wanted you to be my wife because of it, more than the
agreement between your clan and mine. But I did not think you would agree
to the match, and Collin meant to break the agreement.”
So he had come to her.
She swallowed against the painful knot in her throat. Her gaze
wavered from his face in an attempt to retain her composure. She had loved
him so, the thought of holding back had never occurred to her—but she had
never expected him to treat her with anything save respect. Now at least,
she understood his motives, but it did not ease the terrible sense of loss
the knowledge brought her.
To occupy her hands, and still their trembling, she moved to the
washstand to retrieve her brush then sat on the bed to tidy her hair. She
started as Alexander unbuckled the girdle from about his waist and allowed
his trews to fall to the floor. She stared at the muscular tautness of his
buttocks, thighs, and calves, and then quickly looked away. The many hours
on horseback and training at the art of war had honed his body to a state of
sleek, masculine perfection. The movement, as he bent from the waist to
wash his legs and feet, brought into play the muscles of his back and arms
and drew her attention despite herself. She forced her eyes away, her face
burning at the immodesty of her interest.
“Will you fold my fresh kilt for me Mary? ‘Tis in the chest.”
Grateful for the distraction, she quickly finished braiding her hair. She
rose to find him offering her his girdle. With her gaze carefully averted, she
snatched it from his hand. She placed the wide leather belt on the bed and
arranged the sheath for his sword and the leather sporran in which he
carried his possessions. She spread the kilt over the girdle and folded the
pleats in place. She sensed Alexander’s movements behind her and
straightened.
He moved close beside her, a shirt in his hands. The thick swirls of
auburn hair covering his chest tapered into a thin line past his navel, to
blossom into a thatch at his groin. His member protruded, long and flaccid,
from the center of it. Even as she watched, it grew in size and length,
stiffening straight out.
A feeling of helplessness raced through her. She stumbled back
surprised, embarrassed ,and turned to flee.
Alexander caught her about the waist, and pulled her back against
him.
“‘Tis a natural thing, my wanting you, Mary. I can not help the way I feel
about you anymore than I can stop breathing, but it does not mean I am
going to force you to serve me.”
His cheek, cool and beard roughened, pressed to hers. His breath,
warm against her ear, sent strange shivers up her spine. “I have not
touched you in any way you do not wish, have I, lass?”
“Nay.” Fear had nothing to do with the feelings running rampant
through her. Her hands ached to stroke the muscular forearms holding her.
The feel of his large male body fit so familiarly against hers had her breath
coming in ragged gulps. Her body grew weak with longing as he moved
against her. She wanted to turn against him and bring his lips to hers. Her
body ached to be closer in a way she found both exciting and confusing.
A fist pounded on the door. Duncan’s voice came from behind the thick
portal. “The MacNaughtens have struck the east pasture and stolen a small
flock. I’m going with David to see to it. Will you be coming, Alexander?”
He drew a deep breath. “Do you wish me to go,
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