A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (32 page)

He liked it too much. But he and God had come to an agreement during the long night. God had taken Prudence and left Amelia. She wasn’t his wife, but he was the Chief, so she was under his protection. He’d do for her whatever she needed.

If that included helping her sleep by kissing her or letting her kiss him, then so be it. If she wanted more, he was ready to give that, too.

Things were different back East. Here, there was no time for a long mourning period. Life went on, and a man’s needs must be met. Bedding a willing woman was one of the few pleasures available on a ranch. Prue wanted him to bed Amelia. And, by damn, so did he.

Before she left, Auntie informed him that Amelia was already carrying Ross’s child. She wasn’t very far along, but Auntie always knew these things long before others. That meant he could have her without guilt.

“I didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

“I’ve nae slept well in some time. ’Twas good to be needed as a man.”

He remembered cupping her soft cheek where it flared out at her hip. His thick fingers pressed into her flesh, holding her in place as she sprawled across his chest. She was no bigger than a minute, but every part of her was womanly. She would make healthy babies for his Clan, starting with the one already in her belly.

“Lyin’ there, just holding ye, that’s what was hard.”

He let some of what he felt show on his face. Prue knew what that look promised. He raised an eyebrow at Amelia. “Do ye know what I mean, lass?”

Her face turned red faster than a flannel-mouthed politician at full speed. She dropped her eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep.” She struggled to get loose, but he held her snug. “I’d better clean up the kitchen.”

“Will ye nae give me a reward?”

He whispered the words across her throat near her ear. When he lifted his head back, she looked up at him with those stormy gray eyes. His cock throbbed. With her bottom resting in his lap, she knew it was there. Her nostrils flared, and she licked her lips.

“A kiss?” she whispered back.

He nodded, waiting for her to act. She opened her mouth. He dropped his head, letting her kiss him. She tapped her tongue against his moustache before tasting him. He opened his lips and let her explore. She flicked that agile tongue between his teeth. He imagined it dancing over his cock. When she nipped his lip, he gave in and pulled her close. He took over, but gently.

Years of careful kisses with Prue had taught him to hold back no matter how much he wanted to take everything. When he felt her hesitation, he released her. He rested his forehead on hers as they both fought to breathe.

“You’d best get up now,” he said, his voice like a rasp.

She had a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn’t seen directed at him before. He helped her to climb out of his arms. Even sprawled on the floor as they were, she wasn’t ungainly. He, on the other hand, felt like an ox. An ox with a cock long enough to drag on the ground. He watched as she tucked her hair back into shape. She stood sideways to the door. It outlined her body, nipples hard and breasts swollen.

“Mayhaps I’ll sleep near so ye dinna have nightmares this night.”

It was a plea and a promise more than a question, and they both knew it.

“Mayhaps ye better,” she whispered with a shy smile.

Chapter Thirty

“Did ye boil the water as I told ye?”

Supper was over, cleaned up and they had nothing to do but spend time with each other. Gillis waited as Amelia fluttered around the kitchen like a moth seeking a lamp, unable to settle. Their dinnertime kiss had changed everything. Both admitted they wanted each other.

It was the ‘how’ that had her worried.

When he cleared his throat, she nodded a reply and pointed to the reservoir at the back of the stove.

“Guid. I’ll get the tub out.”

“Why? I had a wash this morning.” She fidgeted with her skirt.

He lifted an eyebrow and gave her the lordly stare that worked for shopkeepers but rarely his wife.

“Oh.” She swallowed hard, dropping her eyes to his chest, then lower. “I’ll just go, um...”

She turned and rushed up the stairs. His cock stood at attention under his kilt, eager for her touch. He’d likely spill himself when she touched him, but that would make it easier for him to touch her without needing to throw her down and fill her.

Though it was well past supper, the long June evenings ensured enough light to see by while hiding a few flaws. He set the copper tub in the yard and walked back and forth with buckets of hot water, filling it half way. He set a bucket of cold water from the creek beside the tub along with a three-legged stool. He placed soap and a brush on the stool and shucked off his boots.

When Amelia didn’t follow him into the yard, he stood at the foot of the stairs and called out to her.

“Amelia, ‘tis time for yer bath.”

She floated downstairs, having taken off only her boots. She stopped at the entrance to the kitchen and frowned.

“Where’s the tub?”

“In the yard. That’s where we’re bathing.”

“But why?”

He saw her taut nipples under the thin cotton when she turned to him. Prue refused to strip in the yard, even when she first arrived and was relatively healthy. This was a test, to make sure Amelia was the strong woman they needed for the Clan. Also, he was a big man, and the yard gave him more than enough space.

“Because, lass,” he said, stepping close and nipping the tip of her breast with his knuckles, “I want to. Take off yer clothes.”

She looked up, ignoring her fifteen inch disadvantage. She pressed her lips together like James Elliott before he worked himself up to a good cry. But after a moment, she pressed her shoulders back and turned away.

“I’m only doing this because I don’t want to get my dress wet. What you want is of no concern to me.”

He kept back the smile that would only egg her on. He’d let her have her moment of pride if it would make the evening go easier.

She knelt to take off her short boots. Keeping her flushed face down, she fumbled with the buttons running from her collarbone to her waist. She turned her back and unbuttoned her skirt. When it slid down she folded it and set it on the table. Her shirt followed.

He caught his breath.

Prue was sickly even before they met. Her heavy cough and wet lungs kept her from doing much, including eating. Amelia, however, was healthy and lush. Though tiny in height, her broad shoulders and hips curved into her waist. She would not break like a dry stick, but he would still be careful with her. After two years of loving Prue, it was the only way he knew to treat a woman.

She faced back, holding her shoulders so her breasts stood proud and full. The dark thatch between her thighs called to him, but that was for later. First, she would care for him.

“Come find out how to undo a kilt,” he said.

She came when he crooked his finger. A moment and he was naked. She averted her eyes, turning away to fold the garment and place it with her clothes.

She followed him to the tub. To give her credit, she did not hunch forward to hide herself. He set his feet shoulder length apart and held out his arms. Without the kilt to weigh it down, his cock stood proudly in the light breeze. Like him, it was long and thick, erupting from a nest of red curls that matched the ones on his head.

“I need a scrub afore I climb into that clean water with ye.”

* * * *

In spite of herself, Amelia shivered at the naked man waiting for her touch. Though they shared a father, Gillis was so different from Ross and Nevin. While they were intense muscular men with smooth golden bodies and straight black hair, Gillis was broad, red and furry.

An overpowering man who, at least in his opinion, could order her to do anything as he was the head of the Clan.

Challenging that would wait for another time.

She shivered in the light breeze. It was one thing to play under the trees with Ross and Nevin. Could she stand naked in the open yard?

Whatever his reasons for doing this, she would not let him think he could cow her. He might be The MacDougal, but she was the only wife.

His long, thick cock bounced gently in time with the pulse at his neck. She picked up the brush, dunked it in cold water and rubbed soap on it.

“You’ll have to sit so I can reach your back.”

He nodded and dropped to the stool. It put her at an advantage as far as height. One look of those bright blue eyes, full of both warning and promise, made her realize she’d better behave. Instead of scrubbing as hard as she could, she used the brush only as hard as was necessary.

Every time she came close enough to scrub, her breasts or belly brushed against him. He didn’t sit still, but transferred soap from his body to hers. He made her stand still as he skimmed her soapy body with his callused hands. He growled deep in his throat each time she moved away. She quickly learned to stay near.

A glorious sunset kept them company, the rich colors fading to purple behind the mountains. When it was almost dark, he decided he was clean enough and stepped from the cold water bucket into the tub. He settled back, sighing. By then she was wet and slippery from the nose down.

He held his hand out and gestured for her to climb in.

“There isn’t room,” she said

“Dinna worry, I’ll find enough.”

She climbed in, her back to his front. The water came to her chin when she snuggled low in his lap, keeping the mosquitoes from everywhere but her face and neck. He briskly rubbed her arms and legs to get the soap off. He placed one arm around her chest under her breasts and stood, hauling her into the air as he rose. She squawked when he bent over to pick up the bucket.

“No use both of us getting our feet dirty. I’ll set ye down in the house.”

After once more dipping his feet into the bucket to clean them, he stepped onto the porch. He didn’t release her, though. Instead, he carried her through the kitchen and set her feet on the stairs.

“Wait here,” he said.

He lit a lantern, the warm glow immediately making the darkness outside the windows more complete. Because she stood on the second stair, she was almost eye to eye to him when he came close. He held the lamp high. The light reflected off the sparkle in his eyes.

“Walk upstairs. Slowly. I wish te see every part of ye.”

He might be bigger and stronger, but she had a power over him. She did as he ordered, putting each foot slowly and deliberately on each step. Of course, her hips moved from side to side a bit more than normal, but that was to be expected at this speed.

His low chuckle suggested he wasn’t fooled.

When they got upstairs he set the lantern on the table beside the ewer and basin. A golden glow filled the room.

She yawned and patted her mouth as if she was too fatigued to stay awake. Gillis set his fists on his hips and shook his head. A slight twist at one end of his mouth suggested his amusement. He took a step closer, then another.

When Ross made her his wife, not only was it dark, but she had no idea what to expect. During her first time with Nevin, Ross was there to provide support.

There was no one on the ranch but the two of them. Naked and aroused. When she walked upstairs her thighs slid against one another but the water from the tub had little to do with it. She was wet, her pussy and breasts swollen with wanting.

Drops glistened in his chest hair, the red nest of curls and the tip of his cock. As she watched, the drop swelled, lamplight highlighting it.

Would it fall to the floor?

Harsh breaths filled the room. She lifted her eyes. Gillis stared back at her. The need in them made her clench in response.

“Help yerself,” he whispered hoarsely.

Her feet moved, her body knowing what she wanted without needing to think. When she knelt in front of him, he shuddered. He jerked when she captured his cock with her right hand. Her fingers barely closed around it.

She looked up. He stared at her with an intensity that was almost frightening.

“I dinna think I can stop meself if ye touch me, lass,” he said, his voice both harsh and trembling. “It’s been so long—”

She placed her left hand beside her right, rubbing his tip with her thumb. He groaned when she slid his fluid along his hot cock, stroking him. She did it again. His hips moved in counterpoint, pressing his cock through her hands.

She snuggled closer and leaned forward so her shoulders rested against his thighs. This time, when he pressed his hips forward through her hands she opened her mouth and let his bulbous head breach her lips.

The strangled gasp, perhaps in Gaelic, was quickly followed by him placing his hands on her head.

“If ye dinna want me te explode in yer mouth, ye’d better stop.”

At the same time, his hands held her head still as he pressed his cock into her mouth. His flavor was like his brothers, yet his own.

She shifted her left hand to cradle his balls, squeezing gently as the rhythm of his hips increased. She used her right hand to control how far he entered her mouth.