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Authors: His Lady of Castlemora

Joanna Fulford (18 page)

BOOK: Joanna Fulford
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He drew up her skirt and slid a hand between her thighs, a touch that set every nerve alight. The spark became flame and its warmth expanded, forming a coil of tension. It elicited a faint unexpected ripple of sensation that was shocking and wonderful. Wanting more she relaxed her thighs a little to facilitate him. His fingers found the nub they sought and teased gently. She drew in a sharp breath as a wave of warmth flared in her abdomen. At its heart was the growing coil of tension. It tightened further sending a tremor through her. As the delicious stroking continued the sensation increased and then rippled outwards in a wave of pleasure. She gasped, her eyes widening with astonishment.

‘Holy God!’

He smiled and continued. Her body shook as successive shock waves hit her.

‘Ban, please...’

The words were involuntary since she had no real idea of what she was asking him for, only that he held the key to something just out of reach. Something elusive and magical. Isabelle writhed, her body bucking beneath his hand.

He shifted his weight, pressing her down, parting her legs wide. Then he thrust into her. Excitement intensified, her body quivering in response as he began to move inside her, with long slow strokes. Impatient now she closed her legs around him, pulling him deeper but he refused to be hurried, making her wait, letting the rhythm build gradually. Isabelle writhed beneath him, feeling the core of tension expand and rise, carrying her with it. She had no idea what it was carrying her to, only knew that she wanted this more than anything in her life before.

‘My lord, I beg you...’

The rhythm increased, lifting her higher, carrying her towards the edge of a precipice. He thrust deeper and she cried out in ecstasy, arching against him. An answering fire flared in him, searing, hot and possessive. Still he controlled it, carrying her with him to the brink. Then he let go of all restraint and then they went over together in a rush of pleasure so intense she thought she might die.

‘Dear God!’

Ban closed his eyes, breathing hard, his skin sheened with sweat. It had never taken much for her to inflame him but this was different again. Nothing had prepared him for the sheer heart-stopping delight he’d just experienced. He looked into her face and saw her smile at him, her lovely eyes dark with passion. The effect was sultry and powerfully erotic holding a promise of things to come. The implications created a thrill of anticipation. Unwilling to let her go just yet he remained inside her, holding her there at his pleasure. Most definitely at his pleasure.

He grinned. ‘That was incredible.’

‘Yes, it was.’ Privately she thought that incredible didn’t begin to describe the experience. Her entire being thrilled with it. Every last expectation had just been turned on its head. In that moment she understood exactly how lacking her former marriage had been, how barren in every sense of the word. Tears pricked her eyelids. ‘Thank you.’

He kissed her gently. ‘You’re welcome.’

Chapter Fourteen

T
he revelation of that marvellous impromptu tryst refused to go away. It was as though she had awoken after a long sleep and found herself in a different world; a world she was desperate to explore further. Nor could she help thinking about the man who had taken her there. He filled her thoughts and her heart. Only now, in retrospect, did she understand the extent of his skill and his patience.
It’s going to get a lot better.
At the time she’d had no idea what he meant, a depth of ignorance that was scarcely creditable now. Had Alistair Neil lived she might never have made the discovery at all, would likely never have met Ban. Her heart constricted. The idea of being without him was unbearable. He had given her life meaning. One day she hoped that she might come to mean more to him, that one day his love-making might be motivated by more than just physical desire.

* * *

Later she joined Ashlynn and the two of them spent an enjoyable hour examining gowns, eventually settling on one in deep-blue velvet. Fortunately they were much of a size, so it would be a simple matter of letting down the hem to allow for the fact that Isabelle was taller.

‘It is kind of you to do this,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’

‘I’m glad to help. I know what it’s like to lose everything.’

‘It still has an air of unreality about it.’

Ashlynn nodded. ‘It was the most terrifying period of my life. To be cast into the world without family, friends, money or help is unspeakable. I still have nightmares about it sometimes.’

‘I don’t wonder at it.’

‘There were times when I thought... Well, you know what it’s like. I don’t have to tell you.’ Ashlynn squeezed her companion’s arm gently. ‘It means so much to know that my brother has found the right woman at last; that I’m gaining a sister with whom I shall have so much in common.’

Isabelle summoned a bright smile. She wasn’t about to disillusion Ashlynn by telling her the real reasons for her brother’s choice of wife.

‘I’m glad too.’

‘In spite of having a good and loving husband I have missed female companionship.’

‘I can understand that. Men don’t seem to see the world in the same way somehow.’

Ashlynn grinned. ‘You’re right there. Sometimes I think they might be a different species altogether.’

‘It isn’t just me then.’

‘I do my best to exert what influence I can, but my sons are clearly cast in the same mould as their father.’ Ashlynn laid a hand on her belly. ‘I wouldn’t mind at all if this child were a girl, just to even the sides a little.’

Isabelle tried not to feel envious. ‘I hope soon to follow your example and give my husband a son.’ She paused. ‘Many sons.’

‘Of course. Why should you not?’

There was no easy way to answer that so Isabelle didn’t try. ‘Did you... Was it very long after marriage before you conceived your first child?’

‘Not so long. A few months only.’

The words created a feeling of cautious optimism. ‘I pray that I will be so fortunate.’

‘I’m sure you need have no worries on that score.’

Isabelle hoped with all her heart that she was right.

* * *

The wedding took place two days later, as planned. For Isabelle it was bittersweet. She had the acknowledgement she sought but not the one thing she would have prized above all else. When she looked at Ban her heart filled with pride and longing but, she reflected sadly, this was as much as he was prepared to grant. It did at least show that she had his respect and, perhaps, liking, and that was better than nothing. More than ever she was grateful for being able to look the part. She could only hope that Ban would approve.

In fact Ban found himself staring. Dressed in a deep-blue gown embroidered at neck and sleeve, with her auburn hair held by a circlet of flowers, she looked at that moment more like a goddess than a mere mortal. As he took her hand Isabelle looked up and met his gaze, returning his smile. Very gently he squeezed her fingers. Then they knelt and made their vows before the priest. When it was done he drew her close and kissed her, a lingering and passionate embrace that held in it a promise of the night to come.

Then there followed all the usual congratulations from friends and well-wishers before they returned to the great hall for the wedding feast. The hall had been swept and decked with flowers and leafy boughs. For all her sister-in-law’s assurances about a small-scale celebration, it seemed that all of Glengarron was present. More than one of the assembled crowd commented on the beauty of the bride, whose happiness was plain to see. And the groom too looked remarkably well, seemingly unable to take his eyes off her. Throughout the meal he plied her with food and drink, serving her with his own hand. In truth Isabelle ate little, being too caught up the excitement and the suddenness of it all and too aware that she might have been Murdo’s bride. The thought was chilling.

‘What is it, sweetheart?’ Ban’s blue eyes registered concern for he had seen that fleeting shudder.

‘It was nothing.’ She smiled, meeting his anxious gaze. ‘A bad memory.’

‘Nothing shall harm you now, Isabelle. You can let go of the past.’

‘I know it.’

He carried her hand to his lips. ‘We will build a future you and I.’

In his eyes she read both promise and passion. It sent a
frisson
down her spine. He was her lord now. Later he would take her to his bed. Thereafter, she must give herself to him whenever he wished it. The thought filled her with eager anticipation. Her love-making with Ban had stripped away all her earlier suppositions and revealed her naivety at the same time. In a way it had empowered her too. She did have the ability to attract a man and to arouse him and to please him, even if it was only in bed.

Across the hall the musicians struck up a tune and Ban smiled. ‘Will you dance with me, my lady?’

‘Gladly.’

He took her hand and led her to the floor amid cheers of approbation. The measure was slow and intricate; a courtly dance that kept the couple close yet permitted only the meeting of hands. Yet every touch, every look thrilled, for her at least. Envious looks came their way from men and women alike but she paid no heed, having eyes only for Ban. She had not expected him to dance so well or to move with such effortless grace.

‘Where did you learn to do this?’ she asked.

‘Heslingfield mostly, though Iain has had some input too.’

Isabelle was genuinely astonished. ‘Lord Iain?’

‘He underwent his knightly training in France, where I understand the gentler arts were taught most rigorously. He has since filled in the gaps in my education.’

‘He has done a good job then.’

‘So I think.’

‘The man is full of surprises, isn’t he?’

‘You have no idea.’

She laughed. ‘It’s something else you two have in common.’

‘What else?’ he asked.

‘You are both handsome, both warriors, both brave...’

‘I could listen to this all night but if I allow you to continue I fear it will turn my head permanently.’

‘I cannot think your head would be so easily turned.’

‘You have the power to turn heads, my lady.’

Her eyes sparkled. ‘Now who is the flatterer?’

‘It wasn’t flattery.’ He shot a glance around the room. ‘Every man here would like to be in my shoes right now.’

Her cheeks flushed a little, her heart beating faster for his praise. ‘There is only one man here who interests me.’

Ban’s gaze locked with hers. ‘I shall endeavour to retain your interest by every means in my power.’

* * *

The dancing went on into the night. Isabelle’s hand was solicited by various partners and she accompanied them to the floor for each new measure, prepared to engage in polite conversation and show a pleasant manner, but her smiles she kept for Ban alone. Many a man cast appraising looks her way but if she noticed it she gave no sign. He saw it with approval. It pleased him that other men admired his wife and he was content to let them look. However, that was all they would ever do. Isabelle was his. He hadn’t realised until he met her that he possessed such a jealous streak. His mind ran on ahead to the hour when they would retire. It had felt like an age since she had shared his bed but far from quenching desire their former love-making had only increased it, and he found himself impatient to be alone with her and resume where they had left off. Just thinking of the possibilities caused his body to respond. Yet it was more than physical attraction now, he acknowledged. His feelings for her had strengthened with time and grown complex and multi-layered, albeit harder to identify. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to build a future with her; sire children with her if heaven permitted it. That part still carried an element of risk but he couldn’t regret taking it now.

* * *

Much later, after the feasting and the dancing, when the hour grew late and night replaced blue dusk, she retired to the chamber she was to share with her husband. There Nell had helped her to undress and comb out her hair. Across the room the great bed waited, dressed now in fresh linen and strewn with sweet herbs and flowers. The night was soft and warm and through the casement she could see the moon, already high in the heavens where a thousand stars shone. It was beautiful, a night made for romance, for love. Isabelle bit her lip. Ban had never used that word and never would. He had told her that long ago. She had to hope now that she had enough love for two. He had been patient with her in so many ways; had put his life on the line for her and he had given her the acknowledgement she longed for. It was time to give something back, to do all in her power to make this marriage work. Her first had been a disaster but at least Alistair Neil had taught her a few things on the way. Perhaps past experience could be turned to good account.

The ensuing thoughts were positively sinful. She smiled to herself, realising then that there had been a shift in her thinking and it had happened without her being aware of it. This was no longer just about being able to please him in general by seeing to his household and his comfort and being what the world would consider a dutiful wife: it was much more specific. It was about wanting to reach the man; about touching his heart. It would be no easy feat. What she sought was protected by emotional armour that had been forged by grief and loss and years of war. Even so, she had to believe it could be done, that she could somehow find a way...

She was roused from her thought by the sound of men’s voices raised in jesting and laughter. The noise came nearer and footsteps sounded in the passage outside. Her heart leapt. The men were bringing her bridegroom. Suddenly the door was flung wide and he was carried in shoulder high. They deposited him at the foot of the bed with much lively banter and raucous laughter, ogling his bride the while.

Ban bore it all good-humouredly but had no intention of being kept longer from his wife. Thus his companions were firmly shown the door. It took several minutes before the last of them was ejected and the door shut and barred behind them. He turned then to Isabelle, letting his eyes drink in each detail. Apparently what they found was pleasing for his gaze warmed.

She remained quite still and waited, aware of nothing but the man. Her heart was thumping so hard she was certain he must hear it. His gaze never left her as he slowly divested himself of his clothing to reveal the hard-muscled body beneath. Her heart swelled with pride to think that the world knew that this man was her husband. She saw him smile and the blue eyes met and held hers.

‘You are so beautiful.’

Then he reached for her, drawing her against him, his mouth on hers in a soft and lingering kiss. His hands slid beneath her hair, lifting its weight off her neck and shoulders, letting its silkiness slide through his fingers, breathing its subtle scent. His tongue ran lightly over her lower lip, suggestive, exciting. Of its own volition her mouth opened to him, her tongue flirting with his. She leaned closer and felt his arms tighten around her as the kiss grew more intimate. Yet for all that it was unhurried and infinitely persuasive sending warmth the length of her body.

He smiled. ‘I’ve been dreaming about this all evening.’

‘So have I.’

‘Oh?’ His lips gently nibbled her ear lobe. ‘And what did you dream?’

Isabelle shivered at the touch. ‘I am too embarrassed to tell you, my lord.’

‘That sounds deeply shocking.’ His tongue probed her ear.

The shiver became a tremor. ‘Verging on sinful.’

‘Better and better,’ he murmured.

His fingers tugged gently at the fastening of her shift. It slid lower leaving her upper body naked. His tongue travelled down her neck to the peak of her breast. Her breath caught in her throat. Then she was kissing him back, her lips finding the warm hollow where neck met shoulder. She felt his hands on her waist, gentle and warm, and then the garment slipped over her hips and fell to the floor.

Ban’s eyes darkened with passion. The moonlight lent her flesh a faint iridescence like soft pearl. For a moment or two he drank in her soft curves, feeling his body respond. And then her mouth travelled lower, pressing soft kisses to his neck and breast, setting every nerve alight. Unhurriedly she sank to her knees in front of him, her hands brushing his waist and hips. Ban almost forgot to breathe as the implication hit him. Isabelle glanced up, a seductive and naughty expression that caused his pulse to quicken. Her mouth closed round him, her tongue teasing gently. He drew in a deep breath as every muscle in his belly grew taut and the familiar coil of tension formed in his loins. The exquisite sucking motion increased until it seemed his blood had turned to flame. Heart hammering, he slid his fingers through her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head, drawing her closer. Desire grew hotter and with it need. The tension tightened. With an effort he controlled it, letting the sensation build, carrying him to the brink. Somehow he found his voice.

‘Enough, my sweet, or I’m going to lose control completely.’

She drew back a little. He raised her and led her two paces to the bed, tipping her backwards and then following her down, pinning her there with his weight. She would have twined her arms about his neck but he prevented it, clamping her wrists beneath his hands, his mouth on hers, searing, demanding. Excitement soared. He pressed her thighs apart and thrust deep and repeatedly, his need overtaking him now.

BOOK: Joanna Fulford
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