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"She's no' had the chance to grieve," Rory said, turning to join the conversation now. "They died and Edith immediately was terribly ill, and then she recovered only to have to nurse her maid, and then was ill and recovered again to discover her family was murdered. In truth, the lass has had little opportunity to deal with any o' the upsets to her life o' late." Eyeing Niels seriously, he said, "She'll need to do that soon, Niels. Else it will all hit her at once and may crush her."
"Aye," Niels muttered, frowning. He couldn't imagine anything crushing Edith. Her strength in dealing with everything was one of the things he admired most about her.
"Well, if we're no' having a bedding ceremony, why are ye still down here?" Geordie asked, changing the subject.
"Because Edith asked for a moment to prepare herself fer bed ere I join her," Niels admitted, and then added, "Unfortunately, I'm no' sure how long that is."
"Well, since her maid is coming down the stairs, I suspect that would be this long," Rory murmured, looking past Niels toward the stairs.
Turning abruptly, he spotted Moibeal halfway down the stairs and stood at once. The moment he did, the maid glanced to him, smiled and gave a slight nod. Taking that as an indication that Edith was ready for him, Niels grabbed up his ale, gulped down the last of it and slammed the goblet down on the table.
"Good sleep," he muttered to everyone in general and then headed for the stairs. He wanted to run, but didn't. He made himself move at a sedate pace that was in total contrast to the rapid beating of his heart as he finally allowed himself to think on all the things he planned to do to Edith tonight. Niels had been refusing to allow himself that luxury all afternoon and evening through the talk with the priest, the ceremony and the meal. Mostly because he'd feared if he thought too much on it, he'd have dragged Edith straight from the ceremony to her bedchamber, and he'd wanted her to enjoy the celebration of their marriage.
Now, though, that danger was past and he let himself contemplate all the things he could do to her in an effort to select the ones he would do that night. He wanted to taste her again, the lass had been sweet as honey on his tongue and he wanted that again. He'd give her pleasure that way, he decided, and then caress her to pleasure a second time to ensure she was good and ready for when he breached her. Hopefully, that might minimize the pain for her somewhat. He'd have to be careful with her, o' course, this being her first time. He'd take her in the bed in the traditional manner first, and then if it did no' pain her much as he hoped, and if he did no' spill his seed right away as he feared he would when her sweet heat closed over him, he'd try different positions to find the one they both liked best.
For some reason Niels was liking the idea of having her in front of him, his hands clasping her breasts as he slid in and out of her. That image had him going hard as stone so that his plaid suddenly had a notable bulge. Ignoring it, he thought that he'd let Edith try riding him as well, to see if she liked it . . . mayhap on the bed, or even on one of the chairs in the room . . . or both. Then, if it was no' yet morning, he might take her on the fur in front of the fire, the flames warming them and casting shadows in the room as he explored her body and then claimed her again, this time with her feet on his shoulders so he could plunge deep inside her while caressing the nub at her sweet center until she was begging him for her release.
Niels had reached the door to the bedchamber they would share now, and raised a hand to knock, but then lowered it and simply reached for the handle. She was expecting him after all.
Opening the door, he took one step into the room and then paused as he saw that it was nearly completely dark with naught but dying embers in the fireplace.
"Edith?" he said uncertainly.
"Over here, m'lord husband."
Turning in the direction of her voice, he squinted and could just make out her figure in the darkness. After the briefest hesitation, he closed the door and then started to move cautiously toward her. "Why is it so dark in here, lass?"
"Do ye no' like it?" she asked, sounding anxious. "Moibeal said men seemed to prefer to perform the consummation in the dark."
Niels blinked at her use of the formal term for the bedding, but asked with confusion, "Moibeal?"
"Me maid," she explained. "I wanted to pleasure ye this night as ye did me in the meadow so asked her advice. She's more experienced at these things than me," she explained almost apologetically.
"Ah," Niels murmured, shifting to the right as his hip bumped into what he thought was one of the chairs in the room. Touched that she wanted to please him, but a little concerned by the advice she may have been given, he asked, "And what else did she say?"
"That men prefer to perform the bedding standing up," she admitted. "I thought this was a good spot. That way if me knees go weak again like they did in the meadow I can lean against the wall and brace me hand on this table so ye'll no' be disappointed."
Niels stopped walking and frowned at her words. She had in no way disappointed him that day and he didn't like that she thought she might have. He also didn't like not being able to see her as they talked.
"Ye did no' disappoint me in the meadow," he said firmly, changing direction and moving toward the glow of the dying fire. "And I do no' prefer to love ye in the dark. I would see yer face while I pleasure ye."
Dropping to his haunches by the fire, he grabbed several pieces of wood and began to build up the fire. Fortunately, the embers were hot enough that he soon had it roaring back to life. Straightening then, he grabbed the candles from the small ledges built into the wall on either side of the fireplace and lit them from the flames. Setting them back on their respective ledges, he finally turned to find Edith and nearly swallowed his tongue. The woman made quite a sight standing next to the small table she'd mentioned, completely naked but for the shadows cast by the dancing flames.
Blushing now that he was looking at her in the light, Edith tried to cover her breasts and the thatch of hair between her legs with her hands.
Already hard from his imaginings on the way up here, Niels grew harder still at the sight of her and was hard put not to cross the room, yank up his tartan and take her there against the wall as she had apparently expected. Forcing himself to remain still, he cleared his throat and said, "And the reason most o' the men take their women standing up in dark corners is because 'tis the only privacy they can find no' having a bedchamber."
"Oh," Edith said, blinking, and then she asked uncertainly, "Would ye prefer the bed then?"
"Aye," he growled.
Nodding, she turned and hurried to the bed, but stopped abruptly before climbing onto it and swung back to wave him over.
Niels hesitated a moment, but then walked over to join her. The moment she could reach him, Edith grabbed his arm and urged him to turn with his back to the bed, then quickly began to work on the pin that held his tartan in place.
"Lass," he said catching her hands. "What are ye doing?"
"I want to please ye," she said shyly, shaking his hands off and returning her efforts to his pin.
Niels frowned and almost told her it wasn't necessary, but she managed to undo the pin just then and his tartan fell away at once to drop to the floor. When Edith then caught the bottom of his shirt and began to tug it up, Niels helped lift it off and even tossed it aside. He started to reach for her then, but gasped instead and reached behind him as she suddenly shoved him in the chest and he fell to sit on the bed.
"There," she said with satisfaction. "Now I can pleasure ye as ye did me."
Niels's eyes widened when Edith spread his legs and dropped to kneel between his still-booted feet, but then she just as quickly popped back to her feet and rushed away, muttering, "I almost forgot."
His eyes followed her curiously, but then dropped to her behind and got caught there as he watched the full round globes shift as she walked. His gaze did not lift when she stopped briefly at the table by the fire and then turned to head back. Instead, it focused on the spot between her legs that he was eager to explore and stayed there, until she suddenly stopped in front of him and dropped to her knees again. Her breasts were immediately in his line of vision and he sighed as he tried to decide what he wanted to touch, caress, lick and taste first. Should he suckle her breasts first or throw her on the bed and dive between her legs where her sweetness waited? Or perhaps he should just lick her all over and--
His thoughts died on a gasp and his gaze shot down to himself as Edith suddenly took his fiddle in hand. It was not a tentative caress or touch, it was a firm, no-nonsense grasping and pulling his erection down so that it pointed straight between her breasts. Even more surprising though, was the fact that even as he looked down she began to pour what looked like some kind of cooked fruit in a sauce on his fiddle.
"Er . . . Edith?" he said uncertainly. "What are ye doing?"
"Agnes does no' like to pleasure Donald with her mouth because she says his seed is bitter," she said.
"Ah . . ." Niels's face scrunched up as he tried to understand what that had to do with what she was doing.
And then she continued, "But Magda said a dollop o' Jaimie's preserves would take the taste away, so I thought I'd try it. No' that I think ye might taste bitter," she added earnestly, lifting her pale face to look at him. "But just in case. Ye ken?"
Lowering her head, she added, "I could no' ask ye if I taste bitter because ye were no' here, so I put some on meself as well in case I tasted bitter to ye earlier."
Niels simply stared at the top of her head, a confusion of responses rolling through his head. First, he suspected Magda, whoever she was, had meant that Agnes, whoever she was, should eat a dollop o' preserves to rid herself of the taste. He highly doubted there was a fellow named Donald walking about Drummond with preserves on his fiddle. Second, he was having trouble getting past the idea that Edith was presently kneeling in front of him with preserves smeared all over her quoniam. He would definitely have to lick every last drop of that off her ere doing anything else he wanted to do, so it was good he'd decided to start by pleasuring her with his mouth and tongue first, Niels decided.
Above all of that, however, was the image in his mind of Edith's face when she'd lifted it and he'd seen it by firelight. While he'd thought her pale below stairs, she was dead white now and he'd caught a flicker of discomfort on her face before she'd ducked it to continue to dump cooked fruit on his cock.
Concern struggled briefly with desire for the upper hand, but won easily and Niels leaned forward intending to catch her chin, lift it and ask if she felt all right. But before his fingers could reach her, she finished dressing his fiddle in fruit and popped the tip into her mouth to begin licking and sucking the sweet off.
Niels froze, his mouth opening and closing and his body almost lifting off the bed as he was hit by sensation after sensation. By Satan's warty prick! The woman was--God's teeth! Did she--? By the Virgin, she--
Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to regain control of himself, but he simply couldn't and opened his eyes again almost at once. Edith obviously didn't have a lick of skill at what she was attempting, but she was enthusiastic as hell as she conscientiously removed every last drop of the preserves she'd just applied. And damned if just the sight of her kneeling there with his cock in her mouth wasn't near to killing him with excitement.
