He opened heavy-lidded and unfocused eyes.
‘I don’t know...’ she started to say. ‘Is there anything...?’
His eyes cleared and he gave a rueful shake to his head. ‘You’re untouched, Ailsa. Am I frightening you?’
‘A bit.’
He clenched the ribbon. ‘Sorry, lass, do not worry. You’re beautiful.’
‘You’ve told me before.’
‘I did?’
‘When we stood before the priest.’
He frowned. Did he not want to say such sentiments to her? Maybe not and for some reason that hurt. She’d liked that he said such a compliment in front of their clans. But he didn’t. Suddenly she wished she denied him taking her chemise off.
A rough exhalation and he cupped her jaw. ‘You are more than beautiful, Ailsa,’ he said. ‘So beautiful I could barely keep my eyes from you when I entered that courtyard though your father faced me and arrows were pointed at my back.’
‘You saw me, then?’
He caught a tendril of hair and let it flow through his hand. ‘This hair.’
‘Everyone sees my hair.’
‘I shouldn’t have been noticing you at all when faced with enemies. Yet I can’t help noticing youlike this, the bounty of those breasts, the flare of your hips...’
His words weren’t praise, but the tone of his voice made her flush as if she was truly beautiful. ‘I don’t understand. Haven’t you seen a woman’s form before?’
‘Are you asking if I’ve had lovers?’ At her quick nod, he continued, ‘Yes, but I can’t remember any of them.’
‘We all have breasts and hips.’
He leaned forward and for some reason she stepped back, then again each time he moved forward until her legs were pressed to the bed. When she didn’t move, he gathered her in his arms to lay her down. She moved over to give him room, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he stood over her with that same heat intensifying between them as she admired his wide shoulders, the ripples of his stomach muscles, the dark trail of hair that arrowed into his breeches.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he repeated. ‘Stunning. And I wasn’t expecting this much...’ He looked away, his left hand caressing the ribbon still in his hand. ‘I guess it’s safe to say that everything about this is unexpected.’
She felt her own lips curve. ‘True.’ But she welcomed it. This wasn’t the man who told her to strip when they entered the room. This was Rory,whom she had glimpses of. Like now. Talking to her, easing her concerns.
Turning them into something more. This evening seemed full of surprises, from the emotions of her wedding vows, to the heated exchange to just...this heat between them.
She’d seen men’s bodies before as she tended wounds and illnesses, but this was different. This was her husband and she wanted him undressed to fully see him, to touch him not as a healer, but as a woman. ‘You’re still clothed.’
He frowned, swallowed. A flicker of something went through his eyes that sent a fissure of warning through her overly warm thoughts, but it was gone before she could grasp what it was.
‘Yes, I am,’ he said, placing one knee on the bed. ‘And you still are talking.’
‘Bluntly?’ she gasped, as he lowered his head and hovered his lips along her collarbone.
‘Talking at all,’ he whispered against her skin.
She expected him to kiss her. To make the contact he seemed at first to want when he leaned over her. Instead, he pulled away and carefully knelt between her legs. He didn’t even ask for her to spread her legs for him. She simply did, as if she knew what this part of a marriage bed was about.
And she thought she did, but she didn’tunderstand at all when the cool slide of the silk ribbon fluttered along her collarbone sending warm chills to every bit of her.
‘What are you doing?’
A curve to his lips. ‘I’m touching you, Ailsa.’
