Page 71 of Return of the Scot
Husband.
Jaime stared in wonder at the man who was not but a few feet away from her, undoing the ties of his cravat and then the buttons of his shirt. Only this afternoon, they’d found themselves in a similar position, unmarried.
And a swift exchange of vows on the Sutherland kirk steps several hours ago had changed that.
It was all a whirl now. Saying “I do,” the chaste kiss, sweeping into the dining hall where a feast was served, the divine wine. And now, here they were in the chamber they’d share as husband and wife.
And Lorne was undressing.
He’d shooed away Mungo and Alison, who’d both wanted to help prepare the bride and groom for bed. Lorne had said he wanted to do it himself.
Undress her.
In the flickering candlelight, his skin glowed golden as inch by inch was revealed. Butterflies danced in her belly as she watched. He tugged the unbuttoned shirt over his head, revealing a sprinkling of dark hair that traveled in an arrow pattern down into his breeches.
Lorne didn’t move to unbutton his breeches, which was quite disappointing. But she didn’t have long to think about it as he came forward, his hands fanning the sides of her face. His touch was warm, a little coarse, but positively heaven-sent.
“Ye have to stop looking at me like this, or all I’ve got planned will be tossed out the window,” he said.
“What have ye planned? And how am I looking?” Her face heated, and she licked her lips, nervous and excited all at once. Flashes of their amatory encounter in her garden had her nipples puckering and the place between her legs tingling in anticipation. The way he’d felt lying on top of her on the ship… All the delicious sensations that coursed through her.
“Ye look like ye want to lick me from head to toe.”
“Oh…” And she did want to, now that he’d put that thought into her head. It sounded like a very good idea.
“And, the things I have planned... I’ll start with a kiss.” He brushed his mouth on hers, his hands smoothing down her back as he did so to clasp her bottom.
She loved the solid feel of him, the possessive way he touched her. How every part of her was jealous of wherever his hands happened to be. Jaime put her arms around his shoulders, playing with his hair for only a moment, before sliding over the wide, muscular expanse of his bare back. There were scars on the left side, a continuation of those on his arm and chest. But the rest was smooth and rippling with strength.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue caressing over hers, and she clutched on to him, acutely aware that she could kiss him like this for the rest of her days, and no one could say anything about it.
A moment later, chilled air touched her back, replaced by warm hands she wished were on her skin; alas, her chemise was still in the way. While she’d been distracted by the feel of his spine, his kiss, Lorne had undone every button of her gown. He’d plucked at the ribbons that Alison had fussed over putting in place. He smoothed the fabric down her arms, her hips, her thighs until every bit pooled at her feet, and all the while his mouth never left hers. Teasing little licks and strokes. A nibble of her lips, a soft groan from deep in his throat when she mimicked him. She was becoming quite adept at this kissing thing, she was certain. And, did she enjoy it.
“Ye do no’ wear a corset?” he whispered.
“I hate them.” Instead, her chemise had a ribbon tied beneath her bosom for enhancement, which she reached for now.
“Nay, let me.” His fingers swept hers as he pinched the ribbon and pulled it until it loosened. He cupped her breasts through the fabric, his thumbs brushing over her nipples which peaked in response. With a satisfied grin, he leaned down and nuzzled her breasts until she squirmed, wanting more, but he only teased her. Then he was grazing his mouth over the swells of her bare breasts where they peeked from the top of the fabric, and her neck, then her mouth again. His hands rounded over her bottom, tugging her close. With her gown gone, the hardness of his arousal pressed more noticeably to her belly, and she inched closer, wanting to feel more.
Lorne’s fingers bunched her chemise up around her thighs, and then he broke the kiss to tug it overhead, leaving her standing in her stockings and garters.
“Ye are exquisite,” he murmured, his gaze raking down the length of her and the look of pure hunger on his face sending shivers through her.
Lorne knelt before her, untying her garters one at a time and fluttering little kisses to her thighs and knees as he did it. He unrolled her stockings and tossed them aside. She watched the deft way his fingers worked in utter fascination, and then he glanced up at her, stopping her breath altogether.
“I do no’ know how anyone did no’ scoop ye up before I came back, but I am a man truly blessed.”
Jaime smiled. “Fate, I suppose. Or my stubbornness.”
“I’ve never been more grateful.” He chuckled, then reached his hands behind her and drew her nearer until his face was buried between her thighs, and he was breathing her in, placing small butterfly kisses on the very heat of her.
Jaime’s legs trembled, her knees threatening to buckle. She grasped his shoulders for balance, a whimper escaping her. How could she be expected to concentrate on standing when he was doing that?
Lorne stood then, taking away the worry she had for her stability, and lifted her by her bottom. As he did so, her legs instinctively circled his waist. She gasped at the feel of rough breeches against her sex, then felt her insides flutter at the hardness encased beneath as it rubbed against her most sensitive place.
“Oh, Lorne,” she murmured, kissing his neck, feeling the quickened pulse beneath her tongue as she mimicked what he’d done to her.
“Naughty lass,” he groaned. Lorne laid her out on the bed, then knelt on the floor, his hands pressing her thighs wider as he looked at her.
