The Knight (Highland Guard #7.5)(41)
James was going to do this right if it killed him. But the moment he closed the door behind him and saw his new wife lying in the bed waiting for him, the weeks—months—of torturous restraint caught up to him.
She looked so damned beautiful, her big blue eyes peering over the coverlet clutched to her chin, her golden hair spilled out like a silken veil on the pillow behind her, and he wanted her with a ferocity that was akin to desperation. It had been too damned long. Four and a half months without touching her, without being inside her, without feeling her move under him.
But he had to do this right, damn it. He had to honor the bond they’d just made. She was his wife. She deserved to be made love to on her wedding night, not ravished by some kind of starving beast.
He leaned back against the door, taking a deep breath. Slow. He managed a crooked smile. “I know this is not the wedding you hoped for—or the one you deserve—but I promise when this damned war is over I will make it up to you.”
His words seemed to relax her. She released her death grip on the coverlet and inched up in the big bed a little. He tried not to notice the gossamer-thin linen of her chemise or think about all the naked skin underneath. But just the dip of creamy skin revealed at the neck was enough to make him hard.
“I’m surprised the king gave you leave at all. From what Sir Thomas says, you are fortunate Edward has made no move north or Bruce would still have you digging trenches.”
“Randolph exaggerates. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Did you really offer to dig the cesspits?”
He moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed. His mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Not exactly. I said I would marry you in three weeks even if I had to dig cesspits for the remainder of the war. The king appreciated the irony and it must have convinced him that I was in earnest. He said that wouldn’t be necessary, but I was put in charge of laying some of the ‘groundwork’ for Edward’s arrival.”
As before, Bruce had no intention of meeting Edward on the battlefield, but they would mount plenty of the quick, surprise pirate attacks that Bruce and his phantom guard were becoming famous for. The trenches were used both to wreak havoc on the cavalry and to hide their presence.
But there were rumors that Edward was going to be forced to abandon his second campaign to Scotland and return to London to deal with yet more trouble from his barons.
Joanna sat up, the coverlet falling to her waist. James sucked in his breath, seeing the unmistakable shadow of her pointed ni**les beneath the linen.
“Considering the circumstances, I’m happy to have a wedding night at all.”
When he didn’t respond, she followed the direction of his gaze and blushed.
She tried to pull up the silk bed linens to cover herself, but he stopped her. “Don’t,” he choked. His eyes burned into hers. “You are so beautiful.” Her cheeks fired even hotter, and he let out a sharp laugh. “God, don’t tell me you are embarrassed. I’ve seen every inch of you naked in the sunlight.”
She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “Aye, but this feels different.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” he admitted, having just had the same thoughts. “I’m feeling a little nervous myself.”
“You are?”
She looked so shocked he had to laugh. “Aye, I want it to be perfect.”
A broad smile lit every corner of her beautiful face. “How can it not be, James? Every time you touch me it is perfect.”
She was right, and he couldn’t wait another minute to prove it. Sliding his hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her.
He groaned at the contact, at the heady sensation of heat and softness. His lips moved over hers gently at first and then more insistently as her mouth opened to take his tongue.
Oh God, it had been too long since he’d kissed her like this. The hot, wicked strokes of their tongues ignited a wildfire in him that he couldn’t hope to contain. His hands were everywhere, touching every inch of the lush body that drove him wild. He forgot the fact that this was his wedding night, that he’d vowed to take it slow, that she was his wife. What was important had never changed. He loved her, and when he touched her everything felt right. Everything felt perfect.
He concentrated on the only thing that mattered: bringing her pleasure.
Nervousness and embarrassment forgotten, he broke the kiss long enough to divest himself of his clothes and lift the chemise over her head. Nothing separated them when he slid on top of her—and then inside her—skin to skin, heat to heat.
She took him in with a gasp and a moan, her hands gripping the flexed muscles of his shoulders and arms.
“James!”
He answered her cry with a hard thrust, and then another. It felt so damned good, he had to fight the urge to come with every stroke. Her body gripped him tightly, holding him in, deeper and deeper, as she lifted her hips to meet his powerful thrusts.
And it was powerful, not just in force but in import. With every hard stroke, with every loving tilt of her hips, they forged a bond that would never be broken. With his body, he made her a promise. He vowed to love, honor, and cherish her for the rest of his life.
Only when she cried out for the second time did he let himself go. Sensation shot through him in bolt after bolt of pleasure so intense, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven. A short while later, when Joanna cuddled up against him, pressed her soft cheek against his chest, and fell asleep, he was sure of it.