Page 68 of The Daughters of Avalon
Up in the sky, the moon was but a sliver.
Do it, Elspeth.
Tomorrow they would arrive at Aldergh, and, if Malcom would accept her, in truth, she wanted to give herself to him, body and soul. She would like to arrive as the lady he’d raised her to be. With little innocence in her intentions—she draped her arm about him, wiggling closer…
“Malcom,” she whispered, and dared to slip a knee into the warmth between his thighs.
He stirred, but did not immediately respond, and Elspeth knew instinctively there would be no better time than now, whilst the breeze smelled so achingly sweet and the crackling of the flames reminded her of Beltane fires.
She wasn’t a child any longer. She was four and twenty. She understood what passed between men and women. It was impossible to sleep within hearing distance of Morwen and notglean these things, even as a child. But the more Elspeth thought about it, the more she wanted toknowMalcom… as a woman shouldknowa man… as a wife shouldknowa husband. And someday, she wanted to carry his babe in truth.
Pressing closer, reveling in the warmth of his skin, desire roused in her body, warming her to her womb. She felt an ache deep down, imagining him pressing her down into the blanket, flesh to flesh, mouth to mouth, body to body… soul to soul.
“Malcom?”
Dare she wake him?
But what if he denied her?
Again.
At the moment, she didn’t care. Her body felt as though it were afire, her breasts aching for his touch.
Intuitively, she needed a deeper bond with this man lying so close beside her. “Malcom,” she whispered insistently, and this time he opened his eyes, turning to face her on the pallet.
“What is it, lass?”
They were face to face now… breath to breath… and Elspeth’s heart beat so fiercely that she thought it might burst from her breast. Her mouth felt parched, her lips too dry to speak. Her arms ached to hold him…
“Malcom… if you will have me… I would be your wife, in truth…”
“Elspeth?” he said hoarsely, and her name seemed to be a question. Inhaling a breath for courage, Elspeth slid closer, and then, emboldened, she covered his body with hers, not entirely certain what to do, listening to the siren’s voice all women possessed. Short of breath, needing something she knew only Malcom could give her, she lifted a hand to her breast…
Malcom watchedher with hooded eyes, the veil of sleep vanished. Bold and unashamed, she loomed over him, her body arching for his touch, looking like a goddess incarnate.
“I would be your wife in truth,” she said again, and it was as though she beguiled him with her soft, sweet words, because Malcom’s cock rose to nestle greedily between her thighs, like a poppet-master with a marionette.
Somehow, he managed to clear the fog from his brain. “Elspeth,” he said. “I warned you once… I would not turn you away next time.”
“I do not want you to turn me away,” she said silkily, bending to cover his mouth with her soft, sweet lips. And giving truth to her words, her fingers slid from her breast, down to his belly, teasing him like a woman who knew what she wanted.
Somehow—by his own hand or hers—the laces fell away from Malcom’s breeches. He shrugged them off, heat simmering through his loins, and seized her hand, wanting her to understand beyond a shadow of doubt what it was he would have of her. He slid their joined hands down to the part of him that most needed her caresses, pressing it firmly against his shaft, begging her to understand.
To his surprise, and delight, she closed her hand about him, and the feel of her warm fist racked him with shivers.
Ach, God… it had been so long since he’d lain with a woman—and Elspeth… she was his wife.
Night after night, he’d lain beside her, exercising incredible will not to touch her. Tonight his efforts would come to naught.
Any mind he had to release her flew out of his head as he lifted her skirt, sliding his hand beneath her gown, caressing her warm, soft thigh. And before he could think to prepare her, she settled herself over him and Malcom cried out with pleasure as her warm, sweet body embraced him like glove meant only for him.
“Elspeth,” he said again, with a guttural moan, but gone now was the shy, retiring lass. Now she was in control.
And then he felt it and knew… She was a virgin. Her maidenhead was intact.
With some effort, he stilled her hips, searching her lovely face, painted amber by the light of the fire. He brushed a thumb across the soft hairs of her mons, teasing her soft wet flesh, even as his fogged brain commanded him to stop.
She was his wife, he reminded himself and this was naught he should deny himself. But he wanted her to understand that what came next was binding. But even as he tried to warn her, her gaze filled with unbridled desire, and her body came alive with a purpose all its own, tempting him to lose his mind.
