Page 78 of The MacGregor's Lady
Good advice. She was a trifle sore, which was a new sensation, not exactly uncomfortable, and wonderfully intimate. “Am I hurting you?” She snuggled closer. “I’m a bit tender myself.”
“I am very tender.”
He wasn’t joking, though she didn’t think he was referring to his cock—she knew that term—but she couldn’t be sure. “Shall I—?” What was the word for untangling their bodies without consummating their joining? “There’s an entire vocabulary you’re going to have to teach me.”
“There is, but you’re a quick study. The word for nipple is papilla, though the shortened form—pap—can refer to the breast generally.”
He’d regained his balance, the wretch, while she… “Can we simply lie here like this, joined but unmoving?”
“There’s no law against it, and no word for it either that I know of. Tell me about the midwife.”
The birdsong changed, became polyphony instead of an avian plain chant. Whereas one bird had been fluting along, greeting the sun with a silvery solo, now others joined in while Hannah remained joined to the man in her bed.
“She described for me the nature of the examination, and explained that she’d also been instructed to ensure my wedding night proceeded without discomfort.”
Asher’s expression grew more fierce. “She was to destroy the evidence of your virginity, if any she found.”
Hannah brought his hands to her breasts. “I suppose so.”
Male thumbs feathered over her nipples. “And you weren’t to know that’s what she was about.”
“Not at the time. She was honest though, and told me the lack of a maidenhead was likely to be presented to me when I turned up fractious at a later date. That is an interesting… I feel that caress in places you aren’t touching me.”
He nudged up with his cock. “Here.”
Hannah managed a nod, closed her eyes, and let her head fall to his shoulder. “I like it when you do that.”
“Why did you let that woman carry out her instructions? And no, you are not to move, Hannah. You’ll need a soaking bath as it is. A long, hot, soaking bath to start your day.”
Focusing on the question took effort, for pleasure was building in Hannah’s body, even as outside her window the sun was rising. “The midwife assured me she found no evidence of unchaste behavior, and she would swear… swear… if you move any more slowly, Asher MacGregor, I shall bite you.”
He stopped moving entirely. “She would swear to your chastity?”
“She said as much and explained exactly what you said. Nobody could tell, in any case, but I might be more comfortable on my wedding night if I complied with the scheme she’d been put to.”
He started moving again, slow, easy lunges into her body that went wonderfully deep. “While you concluded you’d be conveniently ruined if the need arose. Are ye comfortable, my heart?”
She met his thrust, counterpointed his rhythm. “Not comfortable, exactly. Are you comfortable?”
While the sun crept over the horizon and the birds sang in welcome, Asher levered up, wrapped Hannah close, and laughed.
***
“It’s no use.” Enid’s tone was bitter enough that Augusta exchanged a look with Genie and Julia. “Word has gone out. Nobody will be calling. Hannah has received no bouquets, no cards, nothing. We might as well decamp for Poland. She has quite ruined herself, and all over a little swoon. You will excuse me if I need a tot of my medicinals.”
Enid pushed her chair back with an unladylike scrape, and left the breakfast parlor amid a series of equally indecorous sniffs into her handkerchief.
“Hannah was smart to linger at her bath,” Julia observed, reaching for the teapot.
“None for me,” Genie said. “Lately, I use the necessary enough as it is in the mornings.”
Mary Fran held out her cup. “That passes. I wish that woman would leave for Poland, though Matthew says it’s a beautiful country. I don’t suppose the Poles deserve the imposition, either.”
Augusta shook her head at the proffer of more tea. “I have learned a few things from my Scottish husband.”
Genie’s smile was impish. “We’re all learning things from our Scottish husbands, and our nurseries will soon bear the proof.”
“Not those sorts of things. Well, those things too. I am learning from Ian that anger need not be a corrosive, bitter thing. Anger can be an inspiration.”
