Page 80 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“There’s nothing so good for swelling a man’s”—he hesitated, glancing to his stiffening cock—“a man’sappetitethan a dip in the water of the mountain. But I’ll not insist ye bathe with me.”
He turned to the deerhound, who stared at him, one ear up, the other flattened. “Tell yer mistress, Buck, that contrary to what she believes, her husband is not her gaoler. She’s free to do what she wishes.”
He strode into the water, gasping at the drop in temperature that he could never quite conquer. Then he drew in a deep breath and dove in. The cold stabbed at his skin like a thousand needles, then, as he swam through the water, the cold turned into a fizz of life. When he surfaced for breath, he flicked his head sideways to remove the hair from his eyes, then dove under again.
He yearned to glance back to where his wife sat, but he steeled himself to ignore her.
Let the quarry come to ye, Master Murdo.
That was what Duncan had said years before, when he first took Murdo stalking. Deer were shy creatures, and the hunter needed to wait until curiosity conquered the shyness. Clara was like a deer. Her curiosity needed to conquer her mistrust.
Then a scream came from behind him, and he turned to see his wife disappearing beneath the water’s surface.
“Clara!” he cried, fear clawing at him. He swam toward her with powerful strokes, then her head bobbed up through the water’s surface. “Devil’s ballocks—are ye well?”
She made a gulping sound and shook her head from side to side. As soon as he reached her, Murdo pulled her into his arms.
“I’ve got ye, lass.”
She shook, then let out a cry.
No—not a cry. She waslaughing.
“Sweet bleedin’ heaven! I hadn’t expectedthat.” He clung to her, weak with relief.
“I’d like to see those prim little debutantes swim here,” she said, her laughter continuing. “We should invite Miss Peacock for a house party, then I can take her for a mountain walk and push her in.”
She met his gaze and her laughter subsided. Despite the cold, he could feel the warmth of her body pressed against him. He looked down and caught his breath as he saw her breasts pressed against his torso, her nipples forming hard little points that poked at his chest, demanding attention.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I-I heard ye cry out,” he said. “I thought ye were drowning.”
“I hadn’t expected it to be so cold.”
“Ye’ll get used to it, lass.”
He shifted position until his manhood pressed against her belly, and her eyes widened.
“Aye,” he said. “Contrary to opinion, the cold caninvigoratea man—when the right woman is in his arms.”
She lifted her legs to wrap around his waist. He let out a cry as his manhood rubbed against her flesh, then he placed his hands about her waist and closed his eyes to savor the sweetsensation of his woman, ripe and ready for him. He only need lower her body a fraction and he’d be buried inside her.
“Ah, my woman,” he sighed. “I’ve dreamed of this moment, taking my woman in the fresh waters of the loch. And what a woman ye are! Ye’re better than the finest…”
She stiffened, and his voice trailed off.
“Finest what?” She withdrew.
“It matters not,” he said, pulling her close. “I didn’t know ye were a maiden when I took ye on our wedding night. I thought…at least after what my da said…”
“You thought I was a whore, like my mother.”
Guilt gnawed at his soul.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I had no wish to hurt ye.”
“I knew it would hurt the first time,” she replied, “but my mother said a considerate husband would be gentle, to ensure his wife’s pain was as bearable as possible.”
