She did. Her hand on him, his hand now coming to cover hers to hold himself steady. Slowly, she eased down. Rory ripped his hand away and held as still as his harsh breaths allowed. It didn’t hurt like she’d been told. Instead, the pressure, the fullness was only pleasure.
‘How?’ She shifted, adjusting to him bit by bit.
His lips parted, his eyes raking from hers to where they were joined. ‘Because you do this. Because your body knows what it needs.’
She knew so little. ‘But...isn’t...? This isn’t usual.’
A slight curve to mouth, a slight exhalation. ‘Some day I’ll ask about what you know. But know that if we had a bed I’d want you underneath me. I’d want to—’
A pained look crossed his features at the same time as he flexed within her. She gasped at the quick movement.
With iron control, his eyes held hers. ‘Last time, I had you on the bed. I...had control of the laces, of your pleasure. If we do this, if thismarriage is true, I want you to have power and control. You have it. You take it.’
This man, who talked of power and planned with determination, relinquished what he most held dear. To her.
She rolled her hips and felt her body give way to him. ‘But how—?’
‘Like this.’ He grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her close and kissed her. Their lips joining, fusing as their bodies did the same. A gentle rocking of his hips until hers did the same, until she needed more and she raised on her knees to take more of him. To take more for her. A clash of breaths, a want, a need. She wrapped herself around him, just as he flattened his feet on the ground, bent his knees, and surrounded her.
She broke away.
‘Rory.’
‘Please,’ he rasped. He shoved deep and her body tremored, tightened. One more roll of his hips and she’d be undone.
She pushed up from his shoulders; Rory braced against the wall.
‘Let go,’ he said. ‘I’m right there, Ailsa, I’m there.’
She dropped, just as he gave another roll of his hips. Until the pleasure broke for them both and they were there.
‘That was...pleasant.’ Ailsa rested her head on his shoulder.
He hummed. ‘It almost didn’t happen at all. When you pulled your gown up so I could see my hands between...’ He exhaled roughly as if the memory of it was too much. ‘You undo me, Wife. I have no control when it comes to you.’
He clasped her hand so that his fingers played along hers, drumming down her palm and around her wrist, then back up again.
She liked that and he must have realised as he gave a low chuckle and splayed his fingers wide so he could play more.
‘Our marriage is in truth now,’ he said.
She could argue that their marriage had been in truth when they said their vows or earlier yet when they’d made their bargain. But the truth was, their marriage wasn’t genuine until she’d told him of Magnus, of her loss and why she hated Lochmores.
Another play of her fingers against his until she must have hit a sensitive spot, for his hand jerked away and he wiggled it a bit before placing his hand in hers again. His left hand.
‘Why do you insist on using your right hand?’ she asked.
He made a disappointed sound.
‘I told you of Magnus. Telling me that you use your right instead of your left shouldn’t be that significant.’
‘I am truly sorry for Magnus, Ailsa.’
Aware that he avoided her question, but also aware it was important to talk of their past, she said, ‘Have you ever lost someone like that to the McCrieffs?’
‘Paiden is as close as I’ve ever come to that loss and you know how well I’m faring.’
‘You miss him.’
