Page 63 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
“I feel like I’m goin’ to faint,” she moaned as the feeling grew. Her eyes dark as if there were stars glittering past them.
“I must be doing a good job,” he said. “Let go for me, Marion. I want to feel you release on my hand. Be a good girl and do that for me.”
“But I daenae ken how?—”
“I need this just as much as you do. Give it to me, Marion,” he commanded, and she cried out as she felt herself ripple with pleasure.
It surged from deep within her, radiating outward like an electric current to the tips of her toes. Her body clenched and convulsed, caught in a relentless wave that left her breathless and trembling, utterly spent, yet profoundly alive.
Anselm moved beside her, gathering her gently into his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his breath warm against her skin.
“Just breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I have you now.”
His lips brushed her hair. It was a soft, comforting touch that made her feel safe. The world outside the room—theton,the scandals, the duties, and even their families—all faded into insignificance.
Marion closed her eyes. She was content to lie wrapped in his warmth, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Yet, something pulled at her. She worried that he would tire of her, that the usual harshness of the Duke would return and she would be cast out.
No, she could not stand that. She would leave on her own terms.
“I should go back to me quarters,” Marion started as she tried to get up, only to be pulled down into the bed. “I… I daenae…”
“No.”
“What do ye mean?”
“You are my wife, and you belong here in my bed. Now I am exhausted. Let us sleep. We can find time to argue in the morning,” he joked as he pulled her closer to him.
“Oh. Very well,” she whispered. “Goodnight, husband.”
She looked at the fireplace a few feet away and watched the embers cool to a beautiful amber hue. She breathed slowly as she felt her rhythm return to its normal cadence, and Anselm’s breathing kept time with her own as she truly relaxed.
She looked out the window then up at the stars, thinking back to the sleepless nights she spent just the next room over while dreaming of him.
Now she knew her wildest dreams and fantasies could not hold a candle to all that would be in store for her in this bed.
I daenae ken what will come next,she thought to herself.But aye, I am ready.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sunrise cast a soft glow across Anselm’s bedchamber, coating it in hues of gold and rose. He blinked his eyes, awaking slowly. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and glanced at the nearby clock.
Seven in the morning.
Instead of feeling guilty for sleeping past his usual early rise, a deep, unfamiliar calm stretched through his limbs, enveloping him like the soft duvet that covered him.
For the first time in years, perhaps decades, he felt truly rested. He lifted himself up onto an elbow. Then, he saw her.
Marion.
She was sleeping still, curled up onto her side and facing him. Her breathing was soft, sweet, and even. A long curl fanned across to his pillow. Her face was serene and immaculate.
Innocent.
He felt a sharp, swift pang in his gut. Guilt pierced through his brief tranquility as he remembered the events of last night.
The nightmare, her intervention, and then…
How could I have allowed myself to let things go so far…
