Page 35 of The Highlander's Auctioned Bride
“Dae ye feel that, Maisie?”
“Yes! Please dinnae stop!”
“This is the pleasure I can give ye. If ye let me have ye, I will make ye mad with it. Ye’ll never want me to leave yer body.”
She gave a single last cry as she felt the wave of release so powerful it wrenched a loud groan from her throat.
She collapsed back on the desk as he pulled away from her, a wild light in his eyes as she looked at him.
“I think that should keep ye awake through the weddin’,” he said finally.
Maisie stared, astounded at what he had awoken in her body. She had never felt anything like it. Like flying, like drifting blissfully down from a mountain peak.
She frowned as he pulled her skirts back to the floor. She was not well versed in pleasuring men, but she could see the evidence of his arousal beneath his kilt.
“What about ye?” she asked.
He shook his head. “That was just a taste,” the dark heat in his eyes at that word made her blush furiously. “I’ll show ye real pleasure. Ye have felt what I can give ye, and I’ll wait until ye plead with me to feel it again, wife of mine.”
CHAPTER 13
The blood was still thrummingthrough James’ veins as he finally made it to the kirk.
He walked through the crowds, the memory of Maisie on his tongue, desperate for all this pomp and ceremony to be over so he could try to persuade her into his bed.
He had been worried that theiractivitieshad made them incredibly late, but the number of people that needed to be seated had delayed things considerably. He walked into the rear door, the church still bustling with activity. Harris approached him.
“Ye took yer time, m’laird, I thought ye might have been havin’ second thoughts.”
“I had matters to attend to,” James replied shortly, and his man-at-arms gave him a knowing look before he followed him to the front of the church.
As he walked through the many familiar faces, James saw Lillian beside Marcus a few rows back from the front of the kirk. He had not seen the girl since the contest, and he could not imagine she was particularly happy to be here. Tradition dictated that she would accompany her aunt and uncle, but he was certain she would rather be anywhere else.
He hoped he had never led her on. He knew she had always seemed keen on him, but he had deliberately kept her at arm’s length as much as possible. Even looking at her now, she was no comparison to Maisie’s fire and defiance. Lillian was so demure, so proper, he could not imagine her ever being as bold as Maisie had been that day.
Best damn game of chess I ever played.
He was glad that he had arrived so soon for only a few short minutes after he reached his position beside the priest, Harris was telling him that the bride was on her way.
He steeled himself for what was to come. The sooner they finished the wedding, the sooner he could be joined with Maisie.
The ceremony was a blur of ritual and formality. There were so many faces in the crowd, and very few that Maisie knew well.
She had little choice but to focus on James. He was not as emotionless as he had been during the contest, but he wascertainly playing the part of a laird in front of his people. He did not smile more than once when he addressed the priest, and for much of the ceremony, his brow was furrowed.
Only when their hands were bound, and they looked at one another for the final time did she see any warmth in his gaze.
She was not too proud to admit that after what they had shared in his bedroom, she was feeling shaken.
Is this what I should expect from our marriage? A husband who continually changes his skin, depending on who is watching?
It seemed absurd that this was the same man who had looked at her with such heat only an hour before.
“I now pronounce ye man and wife!”
The entire kirk cheered behind them, and James turned to her. Only then did she see him grin for the first time—but not for her—he joked and waved with the congregation, greeting people in the crowd from his clan. He treated them with far more affection than he had ever done to her.
The clan escorted them back to Dunroven in a sprawling parade, a whirlwind of flags and banners waving against the backdrop of pealing bells and singing.
