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Authors: Bertrice Small

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BOOK: Just Beyond Tomorrow
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“Aye,” he answered, turning her about to look at him again. He tilted her oval face up to his, then bending his head kissed her gently.
To her mortification, Flanna almost swooned with the contact between their two lips. Her heart beat wildly, thundering within her chest cavity and echoing in her ears; her head swam dizzily. Her whole being was suffused with warmth as she swayed like a sapling in the wind.
“Ooohhh,”
was all she could manage to say when he finally lifted his mouth from hers.
His hands went out to steady her. She blushed, embarrassed, and hid her head in his shoulder. Her guilelessness charmed him. “I think ye may hae a talent for kissing, Flanna,” he told her, smiling.
Now that her senses had ceased to reel, Flanna decided that she, too, had enjoyed their first kiss. She raised her eyes to him again, saying boldly, “We'll nae know unless we do it some more, my lord.” Then her arms went about his neck, drawing him into her embrace.
He laughed softly, saying, “I am my lady wife's to command,” and he began to kiss her again.
She melted against him, letting him lead her, quickly learning from his most expert tuition. At first their mouths were like twin butterflies, softly brushing against each other. Then the tenor of his tutelage began to subtly change. His mouth became harder, more demanding, against hers. Flanna felt her belly beginning to roil with a nervous excitement. His thumb and his forefinger were holding her head firmly. His tongue ran along her pouting lips, and surprised again, she gasped, allowing his tongue to plunge deep into the warm, moist cave of her mouth. Her instinct was to struggle, to escape, but he would not permit her. Instead the hot, probing digit sought out her retreating tongue, teasing at it, stroking it, taunting it into a slow and very sensuous dance. Unable to help herself, Flanna followed his lead.
And then she realized that his hand was no longer holding her head. She was a willing participant, and the hand was unlacing the ribbons of her shift. She tore her head from his and cried out,
“Nae!”
Her hands tried to pull his away.
“The kissing comes first,” Patrick Leslie said thickly. “Then the touching, lassie. Trust me, Flanna. I'll nae hurt ye, but I need to touch ye now.”
“Why?”
she half whispered. Oh, God! His big hand was slipping between the halves of her shift's neckline to cup her breast. She shivered.
“Because I am nae a virgin, lassie, and ye hae, it would seem, managed to arouse my lust wi' yer kisses. I must take the edge off of that lust now, or I'll take ye before ye're ready,” he told her frankly.
“Oh.”
Her voice was very small.
“How quickly yer little heart is beating,” he murmured, and bending his head he kissed the very tip of her breast.
“ 'Twill beat far faster if ye continue to do that,” she gasped. His hand was so warm, and her breast, it would seem, fit quite snugly into the curve of his palm. When he had kissed her nipple, it had been as if she had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The nipple had puckered and grown tight with a little ache.
“A woman's breasts are meant to be caressed,” he told her.
“I am nae a woman yet,” she quickly countered, her fingers threading themselves into his dark head and pulling it up.
He laughed. “I canna resist yer most bountiful charms, lassie,” he informed her. “Ye're much too delicious.”
“We dinna know one another,” she protested. “Until this day I never laid eyes upon ye, Patrick Leslie. When I shot my arrows at ye, I but meant to drive ye off. I dinna think we should end the day man and wife.”
“Nor did I, Flanna,”
he replied quietly, “but we are man and wife, and I canna think of a better way to know one another than by making love. Many a lass hae been wed wi' a stranger and found herself none the worse for it. I will be a good husband to ye, lassie.”
“I never thought to be a wife,” she said low.
“But ye are.
Ye are my wife.”
He held her close. “I am trying to go slowly wi' ye,” he said to her.
“I know,” she acknowledged, thinking he smelled of soap and leather, horse and man. There was something comforting about it. One arm enfolded her tenderly. A hand caressed her silken hair. She realized she could feel his heart! It was beating steadily beneath his breastbone.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Drawing away from him slightly, she undid the laces of his linen shirt. Boldly she kissed his broad chest. It was smooth and warm. Daringly she touched one of his nipples with the very tip of her tongue; then unable to help herself, she began to lick it. How she had thought of such a thing astounded her, but he stood very, very still beneath the wet warmth of her tongue, enchanted by her boldness. Then suddenly she ceased her actions and pressed a hot cheek against his chest, confused.
“That was nice, lassie,” he told her. He wanted to encourage her. “I think now,” he said, “we might remove the last of our garments,” and before she could protest, he drew her shift over her head and dropped it to the floor. “ 'Tis yer turn,” he told her.
“I've never seen a naked man,” she told him.
“I hope ye'll nae be disappointed,” he answered as she pushed back his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor.
She squeezed her eyes shut as her hands pressed the fabric off him. She couldn't breathe. Patrick Leslie bit his lip hard, forcing back the chuckle that threatened to break forth from his throat. He stood perfectly still and silent as Flanna slowly opened first one eye and then the other to stare directly at his nose even as she drew a deep gulp of air. Reaching out, he gently drew her into his embrace.
“Do ye like my nose?” he teased her.
“Wh-what?” She had actually found her voice despite the fact she was standing stark naked and breast to chest with an equally naked man.
“Yer nose?”
She looked puzzled.
“Ye are staring quite hard at it, Flanna,” he said.
“I dinna know where else to look, my lord,” she replied candidly.
Unable to help himself, he burst out laughing.
“It is nae amusing, my lord,” Flanna protested, attempting to draw away from him, but he would not allow it.
“Ah, lassie, I am only astounded to learn that ye are shy,” he told her. “The wench who shot her arrows at me this afternoon and then went after me wi' her dirk is both bashful and reluctant. I am surprised and charmed by the knowledge.” He took one of her thick curls between his thumb and his forefinger, rubbing it, marveling at the soft texture, then putting it to his lips a moment. “To make love is the most natural event between a man and a woman. Every maiden of good reputation must rely upon her bridegroom to show her the way. If yer da were nae so insistent that this marriage be consummated tonight, I would gie ye all the time ye wanted to learn to know me better; but he is emphatic in his demand. He fears I might leave ye a virgin and then claim nonconsummation as an excuse to hae the marriage annulled. If that happened, I would be allowed under the law to retain yer dowry.
Brae.”
“Oh,” she said, and looked anxiously into his eyes.
He brushed her cheek lightly with the back of his hand and continued. “I would nae do such a thing, Flanna. I am nae a dishonorable man, nor is my family dishonest. 'Tis truth that I took ye for yer lands at Brae, but every woman is chosen for the attractiveness of her dower. I am a rich man and hae no need of gold, or cattle, but I wanted Brae. The more lands I hold, the better my clan is protected. I should hae refused a king's daughter wi'out Brae. Do ye understand, lassie?” His knuckles grazed her cheekbone.
“Am I a fool, then, to want to be desired for myself and nae my lands, my lord?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “Nay, Flanna, ye're not foolish. My own mother disobeyed a direct order from King James to wed wi' my father because the king's decision was based upon other factors than if they would suit, or if they loved one another. My father had to woo my mother before she would hae him.”
“Did he win her heart, then, my lord?” she queried.
“Aye,” Patrick Leslie replied, smiling. “He did, indeed, win her heart, so much so that when he was killed at Dunbar she left Glenkirk.”
She was silent a moment, and then she said, “Do ye think we shall love one another one day, my lord?”
The question startled him. Love, it had been his observation, was a complex emotion. Many-sided, it offered both bitter and sweet. He had always been afraid of love, he now realized, in light of her innocent query. Passion was something he understood well, and lust, aye, but
love?
“I dinna know, Flanna,” he told her honestly, “but ye're my wife now. I will honor ye wi' my body and respect ye, lassie. More, however, I canna, in truth, promise ye. Only time will tell.”
She nodded, grateful for his candor and the integrity of his answer. It was more, she realized, knowing her brothers and father, than most men would have given her. “Well, then, my lord,” she said, “we hae best get to this consummation that is so important to my da. What would ye hae me do? Remember, I am really quite ignorant. I apologize for my lack of knowledge; but my brother's wife dinna believe lassies should hae any learning in these matters until they went to their marriage beds. Most lasses, of course, know who they will wed. They walk out and cuddle in the corners wi' their man, but I wanted nae man. I wanted to be free.”
“I will nae enslave ye, lassie,” he promised her. “Keep my home well. Gie me heirs, dinna become involved in any scandal, and ye're free to go yer own way. Ye'll learn when ye meet my female relations that they are all independent women of spirit.” His arm tightened about her waist. “We will hae nae love this night, Flanna, my wife, but I will teach ye passion, and pleasure, which will suffice for now, ye will find.” Then, picking her up, he immediately set her in their bed and lay beside her. Side by side he noted how long her legs were next to his.
She struggled with herself to remain calm, but she could not hold back the tremor that shook her body. She was filled with a mixture of emotions.
Fear. Curiosity. Excitement.
She had still not looked upon his body. Now, though, she raised herself up upon an elbow, her gaze slowly moving down his great length. He watched her covertly so as not to intimidate or embarrass her in her careful inspection. Broad shoulders. A broad chest just lightly covered with a dark down that narrowed into a slim waist. His belly looked hard and was quite flat. Reaching out, she touched it. The skin was muscled, and warm beneath her fingers.
He had very long legs, and both his calves and thighs were corded with muscle. This was an active man, not one who sat by the fire all day long. And his feet! She had never seen such big feet. Long and narrow, quite unlike her father's and brothers', whose feet were broad and far shorter than longer. While she had perused his limbs, her hand had not left his belly. Turning back to that area of his body, she brushed the thick, dark thatch of curls covering the juncture between his stomach and his thighs from which his manhood sprang. It lay but half roused upon its bed of curls.
“This is yer manhood?” she asked matter-of-factly.
“Aye,” he answered her, swallowing hard as she took it in her hand. “Ye must treat it gently, lassie.”
“ 'Tis nae verra big,” she noted.
“It needs to be filled wi' lust to be big,” he replied, his ego surprisingly bruised. Little did this untamed virgin comprehend how once his lust had risen, his manhood would grow not just in breadth, but length as well. She would more than likely be terrified.
“How do I engage yer lust?” she inquired bluntly, releasing him.
“Like this,” he responded, rising up suddenly to roll her beneath him. Then his mouth found hers in a deep and fiery kiss as his arms wrapped tightly about her. To his surprise her lips parted easily beneath his, her tongue leaping forth to engage his in amorous combat. Her lithe, yet amazingly lush body molded itself against him. “Dinna be afraid, Flanna,” he murmured against her lips.
“I'm nae,” she half lied, but her heart was pounding madly.
“Ye hae such sweet breasts,” he told her, his hand going to caress them. “They are like ripe apples at autumn's zenith. His head lowered, and he kissed her nipple. It had grown tight like a frosted flower bud. His mouth opened, and his tongue began to gently lick at the nipple, slowly encircling it again and again. Just when she thought she would scream, his lips closed over the nipple, and he began to suckle hard on her sensitive flesh.
“Ohhhh, Jesu!”
she gasped. His insistent mouth was raising a corresponding tug somewhere deep between her legs. She squirmed slightly in her attempt to escape this new torture. His mouth continued to draw strongly upon her nipple, wreaking havoc with her unsuspecting body. “Oh, cease, my lord, I beg ye,” she cried softly, but he didn't seem to hear her.
“Sweet! Sweet!” he murmured as his head raised, and he moved quickly to her other nipple, teasing it with the very tip of his tongue, licking it until she was afire, and then nursing upon it as he had the other breast.
BOOK: Just Beyond Tomorrow
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