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Pushing that worry away as something she could not do anything about anyway, Annabel stripped off her clothes and slid into bed next to her husband. While she only planned to nap, she wanted to be comfortable for it, not tangled up in her skirts.
Breathing out a sleepy little sigh, she cuddled up to her unconscious husband. Resting her head and hand on his chest, Annabel pretended for a moment that he was not unconscious, just sleeping, and that he loved her and thought her more attractive than her sister and wished to keep her to wife for always.
Thanks to her exhaustion, it was a short daydream and she quickly drifted off to sleep.
ROSS WOKE TO silence and early morning sunlight creeping through the cracks in the shutters. Despite that, for one moment he felt disoriented and unsure of where he was, but then the woman draped across his chest murmured sleepily, drawing his attention to her presence. He recognized Annabel at once, and then recognized the shapes and shadows of their room in the near darkness.
He was home.
The thought made him smile. MacKay had always been his home, but he had never felt comfortable in this room. This was his father and mother's chamber to his mind, or had been when he'd moved here on taking up the title of clan chief. He'd done it only because it was expected, and because Seonag had ordered the servants to move his things here while he was out in the practice field. But it had never felt quite right . . . until now. At that moment, with Annabel in his arms, and dawn clawing its way through the shutters to touch on this item or that, he felt like he belonged there.
He was also so thirsty he could drink moat water, and hungry enough to eat a raw horse. Grimacing, Ross eased Annabel off his chest and sat up on the side of the bed. He was about to stand up when he spotted the tray on the bedside table holding four small meat pies and two goblets of cider. Stomach rumbling, he reached for a pie and popped it in his mouth. It was good, damned good, and he reached for another even as he quickly chewed and swallowed the first.
Ross ate all four meat pies one after another, and then gulped down both goblets of cider as well. Once finished with his feast, a wave of exhaustion swept over him and he decided a little more time abed wouldn't go amiss. Stifling a yawn, Ross lay back down and tugged the linens and furs back over himself.
Annabel immediately rolled toward him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder and her leg shifting sleepily over his. Ross peered down at the top of her head, then carefully moved his arm out from beneath her and wrapped it around her instead. Annabel shifted sleepily in response, her head moving onto his chest and her hand coming to rest on his stomach.
Ross smiled faintly and slid his right hand along her arm in a gentle caress. He loved touching Annabel. She had such soft skin. Everything about her was soft: her skin, her body, her heart, and he loved that about her. He also lusted over her something fierce, he admitted wryly, letting his left hand slide down under the linens and furs to cup her sweet, round behind.
"Mmmm," Annabel murmured, shifting closer. Her leg slid over him again, this time riding up and nudging his sleeping staff. She may as well have slapped it, Ross thought wryly as his penis woke at the touch and began to harden. Damn, she hadn't even meant to touch him and he was reacting like that.
Following his awakening needs, he eased her off his chest and onto her back, and then drew the linens and furs covering them down to her waist. Annabel hardly stirred at either action, which made him smile. It meant he could wake her in any way he wished. He could kiss her sweet lips to stir her, or suckle at her breasts, or perhaps slide down her body, bury his head between her legs, and bring her awake with the screaming need he was now suffering, thanks to her unintentional nudge.
His eyes settled on her breasts, round and full with pale rose nipples that presently were as asleep as their mistress. He liked them better when her nipples hardened into sweet little buds he could toy with, take between his lips and teeth, and nip lightly as he flicked with his tongue.
That idea was an appetizing one and Ross shifted down the bed a bit until his head was even with her breasts, and then bent to claim one with his mouth. He caught it between his lips first and suckled to draw it to life, but once it hardened in his mouth, he caught it lightly between his teeth and flicked it repeatedly with his tongue until Annabel moaned in sleep.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ross saw her legs shift restlessly and let one hand slide down to caress her thigh. He smiled around her nipple when her body reacted automatically, legs shifting further apart in invitation. How could he resist such a generous offer?
Nipping lightly at her nipple, Ross slid his hand between her legs, not surprised to find her warm and wet for him already. That was something else he loved about his wife. She warmed to him quickly, seeming always ready and happy to welcome his attentions. He knew not all men enjoyed such pleasure with their wives, and he intended to nurture that and do what he could to keep the fire that grew between them alive.
When Annabel released a long groan, her body arching and shifting, Ross raised his head to peer at her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open in a way he was sure she would not allow were she awake. The woman was sleeping like the dead while he was wide awake, every inch of him.
It was time to wake her up, Ross decided, and lowered his head to claim her nipple again. He suckled more insistently for a moment, and then let it slip from his mouth and moved further down her body, running his tongue over her creamy flesh as he went. He paused briefly at her hipbone to nibble and lick there, and then continued on to bury his face between her legs.
ANNABEL WOKE GASPING for breath, her body arching and writhing in the bed. Her groggy mind was slow to understand why her whole body seemed to be on fire with pleasure. Then she became aware that the pleasure was centered between her thighs and she raised her head to look down. The sight of Ross's head buried there, along with the sensations he was causing as he apparently tried to make a meal of her, held her in thrall for a moment and then it struck her . . . Ross was awake.
That realization hit just as her orgasm did, or perhaps the joy that washed over her at the realization helped push her over the edge. Whichever the case, all of it together had Annabel sitting up sharply in bed, screaming his name in a voice that sound racked more with pain than the pleasure she was experiencing.
Fortunately, her convulsive pleasure also had her unable to keep from squeezing her thighs on either side of Ross's head, covering his ears and preventing his eardrums being shattered by the shriek. By the time Ross eased her thighs apart to free himself and then sat up on his knees between her legs, thumping could be heard from outside the bedroom door. It sounded like a stampede of horses.
Annabel didn't bother to turn her gaze from Ross. She didn't care what the sound was, she was just too happy to see her husband awake and well. Chest still heaving, and body still pulsing from her violent release, Annabel opened her mouth to say that, but what came out was, "I love you."
Ross's eyes widened, and then his head shot around to the door as it burst open and what seemed like the whole castle tried to cram their way into the chamber at once. Gilly and Marach were in the lead, uncles Eoghann, Seonag and Fingal right behind them with at least two dozen servants and warriors at their back that she could see, and every single face held a fear and dismay that she didn't understand, until Father Gibson's voice rang out.
"What has happened? Is your laird dead? Is Lady MacKay--my lady?" the holy man ended uncertainly as he reached the front of the crowd and took in the tableau.
Suddenly free of the shock that had held her in place, Annabel glanced around wildly for the linens and furs that were not there, and then simply threw herself off the far side of the bed to use it as cover.
"Lady MacKay? Lord MacKay? 'Tis Sunday. Surely you were not . . ." Father Gibson sounded injured and even a little bewildered at such betrayal. Annabel was not absolutely positive, but suspected that what Ross had been doing was probably right up there with the original sin in the church's eyes. They did lecture on about carnal acts being meant only to procreate and certainly Ross couldn't plant his seed through his tongue.
Would that he could, Annabel thought wryly and then closed her eyes on a sigh. Coward that she was she also stayed right where she was rather than face the priest. Ross did not make a peep either, though that may have been because he didn't get the chance. Uncle Eoghann was pretty quick to say, "Well, surely ye see that Ross is on his knees, do ye no', Father? The man was obviously praying. No doubt he was giving thanks for being alive."
"Aye, and who would no' do that with a wife as sweet as Annabel?" Fingal asked wryly. "Praise the lord, if I had a wife like Annabel, I'd be praying meself at the moment. In thanks," he added, but Annabel could hear the devilment in the man's voice and caught the double meaning when he said praying.
Wicked old man, she thought.
"But Lady MacKay was--She was not praying," Father Gibson said firmly. "And that scream. Nay. This was--"
"My wife was asleep until the moment before she screamed," Ross interrupted. " 'Tis why she did not leap immediately from the bed when ye entered. I'm sure she would ha'e recovered from her shock at this intrusion more quickly had she been awake more than the moment it took ye all to charge up here."
Hearing movement, Annabel glanced around to see him getting off the bed.
"Now, if ye're all done gawking, I'd appreciate it did ye leave our bedchamber."
"But she screamed," Father Gibson said with suspicion. " 'Tis why we came up here. We feared you had died."
"Obviously she screamed in shock when she woke up to find him awake and well," Uncle Eoghann said, taking the preist's arm and turning him toward the door.
"Aye, and what we mistook for a cry of mourning at finding him dead was actually rapture," Fingal added. "Rapture that he yet lived, I mean."
