Page 47 of Scandalous Scot
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As Màiri’sheartbeat slowly returned to normal, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. She was a virgin still, of course, and yet her entire body had become possessed by something. The devil certainly.
“’Twas not natural,” she said as Ian lowered her arms from above her head and stepped back.
“I can assure you, that was very natural.”
Màiri’s chest rose and fell as she watched Ian grab both of their goblets from the table. By now, all of the candles had burned even lower, the best light coming from the torch he’d brought with him. She took the wine he offered, grateful for the burgundy liquid that made its way down her throat. Màiri had always enjoyed wine, but her father did not believe in excess, so she rarely had more than one gobletful. Two on special occasions.
“That?” Màiri asked as she took the wall torch from its perch.
Coming back toward her, Ian appeared so much calmer than she felt. Màiri’s heart, despite having slowed a bit, still beat wildly. Her core continued to clench, a feeling as unfamiliar as the one her husband incited every time he was near.
“That,” he repeated, eyes narrowing. “Your first orgasm.”
It was not a word Màiri knew. She swallowed.
“I’ll be honest, Màiri. I have no idea what people think about sex in your time. But I can venture a guess it’s not a typical topic of conversation.”
“Nay,” she agreed. “’Tis not. The church allows it, between married couples, of course. But it is a sin to enjoy it. And there are very many rules about the days on which such an act is allowed. Most of what I know of it comes from Father Abernethy’s sermons.”
Ian looked as if he would laugh.
“Rules. Days? Sex ed from the church? No wonder we were forced to marry. It’s downright . . .” And then he did laugh, richly and loudly.
“What is it?” she asked, smiling even though she did not understand.
Ian nodded toward the stairwell, and they began to walk.
“I almost said it was downright medieval. A word we use to describe this time.”
He lifted the torch and gestured for Màiri to step in front of him, onto the stairs.
“I shouldn’t laugh. It’s kind of a disparaging term meant to describe something not very advanced.”
“Hmm.” She thought about that for a moment. “But from what you’ve told me, your time is much more advanced than mine. So why do you say ’tis disparaging?”
“I’d need more than a week to explain the concept of political correctness.”
They emerged near the kitchens.
Ian led the way, and at first she thought he was taking her to the hall. The sharpness of her disappointment surprised her, but then he took a sudden left, and she realized he was bringing her to their bedchamber after all. She’d not come from this direction before.
When Màiri realized what he intended, the calm that she had settled into fled like a Lowlander in battle, as her father might say, replaced by an excitement keener than anything she’d ever known. The silence made her even more nervous as Ian yanked open the door to their chamber. The one she’d avoided these past nights.
It wasn’t until Ian replaced the wall torch and closed the door behind him that she noticed the look on his face.
Ian appeared as if he were in pain. But she knew better. And her suspicions were confirmed when she found herself hauled up against him. This kiss was neither gentle nor coaxing. It consumed her—heconsumed her.
How had Ian even known her kirtle tied at the sides? As his lips claimed hers, the feel of his hands on her waist, the kirtle loosening, gave every indication of what was about to happen. He intended to do as he said and unclothe her. And she was going to let him.
When he pulled away to lift it above her head, Màiri caught her husband’s eyes. This was not the hesitant man who’d admitted to hating his job. Nor was it the honest one who’d laid bare their secret in front of her father at Kinross.
The man who lifted her shift, tossing it aside as she stood before him, bare except for a pair of leather boots, was as much a MacKinnish warrior as his uncles. Just younger. And more handsome. The awestruck look on his face only contributed to his appeal.
“You are gorgeous.”
It wasn’t a word Màiri knew, but she could discern the meaning well enough. And she was inclined to think the same of Ian as he tore off his linen shirt. Not taking the time to undress further, he pulled her into his arms. His hands were everywhere as he backed her toward the bed. When he picked her up and placed her in the center of it, she assumed he would join her. Instead, he positioned himself between her legs. Unsure of what to expect, Màiri moved her hands to cover herself, only to have them pushed back.
