And now she was a surprise again. Her hair was down still, brushed to a fine sheen and left to flow around her face and shoulders. She was wearing the thinnest of white gowns, one he could see the shadow of her nipples through. And she looked lovely. More than that, she looked luscious and desirable. That didn't surprise him, of course. What surprised him was that his Seonaid, his Amazon warrior, his beautiful, fiery, brave, strong battling bride, looked ... terrified.
She sat in her bed, her eyes wide, her face pale, her hands fisted in her lap. She looked as scared as a child. Blake eased the door closed, then found his hands raising in the same soothing motion he would have used to approach a wild horse he wished to tame. But he didn't approach. He didn't speak either. He hadn't a clue what to say. What could he say? Have no fear, all will be well; I'm just going to come over there and give you a good seeing to?
Blake hadn't expected this. He hadn't known what to expect. Seonaid was a fighter, and he had half-expected a battle on his hands. In fact, he suspected he might still. Frightened animals often fought back when cornered, he thought, and was suddenly grateful they had taken her weapons away. While he had enjoyed the tussles they had indulged in until now--well, perhaps not the one where he'd gotten her foot in his groin--he thought that risking having his manhood cut off was a little too much spice for his wedding night.
"Well, what are ye waitin' for? Get over here and get it done so we can sleep."
Blake blinked in surprise at the gruff demand. She had changed in the measure of a heartbeat. Gone was the wide-eyed look of terror. The woman facing him now was all grim determination. She was still pale, though, and had yet to unclench her hands, he noted, so he decided this must be bravado.
Forcing himself to relax--it wouldn't help her relax if he remained tense--Blake moved forward, his gaze moving around the chamber as he tried to decide how to proceed. He had no intention of walking over and "getting it done" as she so charmingly put it. He had no wish to hurt her, though he knew he probably would her first time. But Blake was used to seducing women, not--
"The bed is this way."
His head whipped around at her sarcastic words and he frowned at her slightly.
"Come on, come on, let's get this done," she insisted, tossing the linens aside to reveal the rest of the sleeping gown she wore.
"Seonaid," he said calmly, "I have no intention of just--Do you want a drink?" he interrupted himself to ask when she started to grow even more tense.
His bride let her breath out on a loud sigh of relief. "Aye. And lots of it. I didna think to drink until I was up here and 'twas too late. I wasna thinkin', I guess."
She got out of bed as she spoke and stomped past him to the door. Blake inhaled her scent as she passed. They had not just bathed her, they had powdered her too, and the sweet scent of flowers wafted off her as she moved by him. Oddly enough, Blake found himself a tad disappointed. Every woman he had seduced had smelled similar to this. Powdered, perfumed, and sweet. Seonaid was none of those things by nature. Usually she smelled of fresh air and the woods, with a muskiness added that was her own scent. He rather preferred that, though he wouldn't tell her so, he thought, then grinned with amusement as Seonaid opened the door he'd just closed and bellowed into the hallway.
Seonaid slammed the door, took a deep breath, then turned to survey Blake. He was watching her with an odd grin on his face. It made her glance down at the gown she wore and grimace at the sight of it. She had never worn anything so delicate and feminine in her life and felt odd wearing it now.
"Lady Wildwood dug it up and insisted I wear it," she explained, resisting the urge to cross her arms over her chest to cover herself. She didn't know why she wanted to--he'd seen her naked when she was battling by the loch that day they were attacked. Still, this seemed different. She felt different. Seonaid was usually confident and sure of herself and what she was doing; but then, she usually knew what she was doing. At the moment she felt slightly out of her depth. And she didn't like it.
Grimacing, she stomped over to the chairs by the fireplace and dropped into one, then watched him and waited to see what he would do next. For a moment he didn't do anything; then his gaze dropped to the tub still sitting in the middle of the room, and he walked over to dip one hand in to test the temperature. Seonaid knew it would still be hot. It had been scalding when she had taken her bath, and that had only been moments ago.
Seeming satisfied by the temperature, Blake began to undress, and Seonaid curled her legs beneath her on the chair and settled in to watch. She wasn't the least embarrassed to do so. Well, perhaps she would have been had he made a fuss of it, but Blake ignored her and simply set about his business. The plaid went first, and she hid a smile at the way his nose wrinkled as he removed the item.
Duncan had told her with much amusement that Blake had heard, and obviously believed, the tale that Scots wore their colors. He'd traded their father a fine gold doublet and braies for his plaid. They had all had a good laugh about that, for it wasn't true. Every clan had friends, and every clan had enemies. Only a fool would walk around wearing something that proclaimed your allegiances. It could see you dead. Perhaps one day there would be peace and they could do so, but for now they did not. If their clan all happened to wear the same design of plaid at the moment, it was because that was the design that Cailean Cummins had had colors for and had made. He usually did a great batch of one design, until the colors ran out, then did a different design for another great batch of cloth. But that did not make them their clan design.
She would have to tell him that some day, Seonaid thought. She didn't want a husband who was ignorant of such things and so easily made a fool of.
She forgot all about this concern as Blake next removed his tunic. Seonaid almost sighed aloud at the sight. The man was definitely well built and a pleasure to look upon. Except for the thing between his legs. She tried not to look at that monstrosity. It would just make her think about what was coming and the pain and blood Lady Wildwood had warned her about. Seonaid didn't want to think about that just yet, so she avoided peering below his waist at first and concentrated her attention on his chest and arms. He had a lovely chest, she thought, and had the oddest desire to touch it, just to rub her hands over the wide expanse and--
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Seonaid uncurled herself from the chair and moved to the door to answer it. It was a servant with the whiskey she'd yelled for. But it wasn't whiskey. It was wine, Seonaid saw, and frowned with irritation. "I yelled for uisgebeatha, Janna. What--"
"There is none at the moment," Janna said apologetically. "Lady Iliana used it all to hold off Greenweld when he attacked. She had them drop barrels of it off the wall onto the mangonel, then had the men shoot flamin' arrows at it to set it alight."
"Oh." Seonaid's eyebrows rose. "That was clever."
"Aye. She did us proud." Janna grinned, then asked, "Is there anything else ye'd like?"
"Nay. Thank ye." Seonaid offered a smile, then closed the door and turned in time to see Blake stepping into the tub. She stared at his behind with fascination as he moved and thought once again that it was the finest she had ever seen. Maybe she'd get to touch it later. She was curious to know if it felt as hard as it looked.
"May I have a glass?"
Blake's voice shook her out of her fascination and Seonaid started to move again. She set down on a chest the tray Janna had brought holding the mugs and wine and poured some for him, then some for herself, before carrying both over to the tub.
This afforded her a close view of his chest, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from whistling between her teeth with appreciation at the sight. If nothing else, she had herself a pretty husband, one it would be a pleasure to look at for years to come.
"Thank you," Blake murmured as he took the wine she offered. "Could you scrub my back?"
Seonaid hesitated. Her first instinct was to tell him to wash his own bloody back. She wasn't a servant. But then she realized s
he would get to touch all those corded, rippling muscles, and she moved around to kneel on the floor at the back of the tub. She set her drink on the floor, accepted the bit of linen scrap that had been brought up to wash with, and rubbed it over the soap, then paused with amusement. It was the flower soap Lady Wildwood had brought in for Seonaid to use. He would smell like a summer garden. She shrugged and continued to soap the linen. There wasn't any other soap to use. Besides, he would smell better than her father's plaid.
Setting the soap down, she contemplated his back, then grabbed her wine and drank it down before setting to the task. His back was hard and yet soft at the same time. Seonaid ran the cloth over his skin, then over it again, then let it drop away and used her hands, lathering the soap she had applied and massaging the skin with fascination.
"Mmmm, that feels good."
His murmur startled her. She had almost forgotten he was there. Well, not forgotten exactly, but--
"Can you do my chest?"
Seonaid stilled, her eyes locked on the back of his head. His chest? She thought of running her fingers over that wide expanse and her fingers almost itched with the desire to do so. Sitting back on her heels, she grabbed her wine, realized it was empty, and reached over his shoulder to snatch his out of his hands.
"Hey!" Blake glanced over his shoulder but just laughed as he watched her down it. "Thirsty?" he teased, and she scowled at his knowing look.
"I had a tooth pulled once," she muttered, setting the empty mug aside and shifting to kneel farther along the tub so that she could reach his chest.
"Did you?" he asked, his confusion apparent. "I am not following the conversation."
Seonaid retrieved the linen that was now floating on the water's surface and began to run it over the soap. "It was unpleasant and painful, but no nearly as unpleasant and painful as it might have been had I no drunk a bottle o' whiskey beforehand."
"And you are comparing this to having a tooth pulled?" He sounded affronted.
"Lady Wildwood explained what will happen."
Blake remained silent as she set the soap aside and began to smooth the linen over his chest. She could feel his eyes on her and sensed he wanted to say something, and so wasn't surprised when he finally said, "Seonaid, it does not have to be completely--Is that flowers I smell?"
Seonaid glanced up at his face and nearly laughed when he snatched her hand and drew the cloth to his nose to sniff it.
"Dear God, you are going to make me smell like a woman."
She did laugh then. He looked so horrified at the idea. "Too late, ye already do," she taunted and tugged her hand loose to continue washing him, but he immediately recaptured her arm in a bid to stop her.
"Nay, leave off with the soaping, then."
"Nay. I think ye smell pretty," she teased, grabbing the cloth with her free hand and started to run it over him again.
"Witch," Blake muttered, catching that hand now.
"Oh, witch, is it?" Seonaid asked, laughing at his sulky expression. He'd released her first hand to grab her second and she again switched the cloth to her free hand. Blake immediately tried to grab that hand, but Seonaid held it out of reach behind her back with a laugh.
"Give me the cloth, Seonaid." He had released her other hand again and leaned forward in the tub, both arms going around her to try to grab the cloth. Big mistake, Seonaid thought with amusement, slipping her free hand down to grab the soap from the floor where she'd set it. In the next moment she was rubbing it over his chest as he struggled to get the linen from her.
Blake gave an outraged squawk and gave up on the cloth to grab for the soap. Seonaid immediately started to rub the soapy, flowery-smelling cloth over his arms, chest, and anywhere she could reach. She was having great fun, until Blake caught that wrist as well. They began an odd sort of struggle then. He had her by both wrists and she was keeping her arms up to keep him from snatching the cloth or soap from her. Their struggle forced her forward on her knees. Her stomach pressed against the side of the tub, but her chest occasionally became pressed against his as she wrestled with him. He was trying to urge her hands together over their heads, but she knew he wanted to shift his hold so that he could capture both her hands together with one of his, then rob her of her weapons, so she was fighting valiantly against it. Unfortunately, he was stronger than she. When she knew the battle was about to be lost, Seonaid tugged away from him slightly and let the cloth drop rather than allow him to claim it.
She hoped that this way she might have a chance to retain the soap. At least she would if he released her to snatch up the linen as expected. But when both of them peered down to see where it had landed, they froze at the sight of it poking straight up out of the water like a tent. It had landed on something. Something sticking up out of the water from between his legs.
Seonaid's eyebrows rose. It seemed she wasn't the only one having fun, but she hadn't a clue why their wrestling was exciting him. Or did she? She asked herself the question as she glanced up, saw that his gaze had moved to the front of her gown, and followed it. The gown had gotten soaked in the brief tussle and was now transparent and plastered lovingly to her chest. It revealed rather clearly that her nipples were as erect as his member.
Hmmm, she thought. This was most interesting. She never would have expected it. Fighting, whether serious or in play, had never had this effect on her before.
She lifted her gaze to Blake's face almost reluctantly then, and he immediately took advantage of the act and swooped in to press his lips on hers. Seonaid started to pull back, an automatic reaction, but he immediately released his hold on her wrists and slid one hand around her back and the other to the back of her head to hold her in place.
Seonaid was not at all used to such masterful behavior. She was generally the one in control. She went still, her mouth opening on a small gasp, and then gasped in another breath of shock as his tongue immediately slid into her mouth. No one else had ever kissed Seonaid before. One boy had tried when she was very young, but she'd pushed him down and set about beating the haggis out of him. And that had been for just a peck on the cheek. She'd seen others kissing since then, but generally averted her eyes since it was usually when she'd turned a corner and come unexpectedly upon a couple. Seonaid had had no idea that tongues were involved in the endeavor.
She didn't struggle, but remained still under the onslaught, curiosity holding her in place. It was an interesting activity, this kissing business. His tongue was moving across hers and sweeping through her mouth as if in search of rotten teeth and--in her untried opinion--should have felt disgusting. But there was something about the taste and feel of him and the way he did it that was rather nice. His mouth was moving over hers, his tongue moving in her, his hand urging her chest back against his, and Seonaid had the oddest desire to stretch and arch her body.
When Blake's hand slid between them and closed over one breast, a moan was surprised from her and Seonaid did finally stretch, arching into the touch. Blake immediately caught one hand in her hair and tugged her head back, his lips slipping away to run down her throat. Seonaid moaned again, then closed one hand over the larger hand at her breast, urging him to touch more firmly. She liked what he was doing and wanted more of it.
Blake gave a rough chuckle at the demanding action, but instead of giving in to it, released her breast altogether.
Seonaid was just starting to scowl when he caught her around the waist and dragged her over the side of the tub and onto his lap in the water, positioning her there almost sideways. She did not squeal like a girl and thrash about. Instead she caught her hand in his hair again and tugged his face back to hers. He immediately satisfied her by kissing her again. Seonaid probably would have grabbed his other hand and pulled it back to her breast, but he beat her to it, catching the breast once more and squeezing it gently, then concentrating on the erect nipple, pinching it through the cloth and rolling it between thumb and forefinger.
Seonaid sighed her satisfaction into his mouth,
quite happy with the way things were going. She didn't even mind when he broke the kiss and ran his lips over her cheek to her ear. Seonaid found herself shifting and arching and twisting slightly in his lap as he explored her ear, her throat, and then ran his tongue along her collarbone and dipped it into the hollow there.
When his mouth suddenly dropped to catch the nipple he'd been caressing, she nearly leapt off his lap, but then moaned and caught his head by the hair again, holding him there as all sorts of interesting reactions flew through her body.
Dear Lord, this was good stuff. Why had no one told her about this? She suspected it might be even better without the damp cloth of her gown between them, but as she was new to this, she kept her mouth closed on the suggestion. Besides, Blake was distracting her, both with his mouth and with his now wandering hands. One of his hands was around her back, holding her in place, the other, the one that had been caressing her breast earlier, had run down her stomach, rubbed over her hip and along her outer leg, and was now creeping up her inner thigh.
Seonaid had never known that part of her body could be so sensitive. Skin that normally just lay across her bones in boredom was suddenly alive and almost leaping about on her body as his callused fingers brushed across it. She found herself spreading her legs to allow him more room, then she turned her head and clamped her mouth to his shoulder as his fingers brushed against the very center of her. Seonaid alternately sucked at the skin of his shoulder and nipped at it with excitement as he touched her. She was in quite a state of upheaval and in a quandary, wanting to demand that he stop, because a sense of frustration was rising within her, but at the same time not wanting him to stop because it felt so good. In point of fact, she didn't know what the hell she wanted.