The Devil in Plaid(44)

“Love seems to be blossoming,” Fiona told Jamie.

His gaze followed hers. “Aye, in fact, both Sebastian and Thomas made mention of their growing affection for yer maids on our journey to Loch Ewe.”

Fiona smiled. “I am glad. They both seem like fine men.”

Jamie nodded. “Thomas has proven himself a natural warrior. He works hard and is eager to please his captains. Sebastian has a keen mind. He will be a captain one day, but his true passion is for the land. If he had his way, he would trade his sword for the plow.”

She raised her cup to Jamie. “To lives saved and love found.”

He joined her, lifting his tankard of ale. “There could be no finer reasons to celebrate.” Then he motioned to the room. “Never did I dream this could be possible.”

She laughed. “And to think, the same bustling merriment fills our courtyard and the land beyond the outer wall.”

Jamie smiled. “I told ye I would bring home an army.”

She leaned close. “More than anything, ‘tis yer homecoming that fills my heart with joy.”

He shifted in his seat, turning to face her. “Thank ye for the selfless way ye aided my people today.”

“They are my people now, too,” she said softly.

He cupped her cheek. “Our people.” His eyes glinted with hope. “We will have our peace, Fiona. This I do not doubt.” He leaned closer, his face earnest. “Our children will know peace.”

Fiona’s breath caught. She swallowed hard. “Our children,” she repeated, her heart hammering in her chest. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, causing the room to erupt into cheers.



That night, Fiona stood in front of the hearth. Her heart raced but not from fear—it was need.

It was hunger.

Hunger for her husband. She wanted to be his, body and soul. She wanted to feel the heat of his hands on her skin, to feel the passion of his kiss. The last few nights alone in that empty bed had only fueled her desire. But how could she tell him that she was ready, ready to feel his touch, ready to be his? Dare she speak of her heart’s longing? Or mayhap, she could just leap—throw herself into his arms and boldly kiss him. It was within her rights, was it not? Or was it just the husband who could make demands of his wife’s body? She took a deep breath. Somehow, she would give herself to her husband that very night.

*

Jamie paced outside his chamber door. He wanted his wife.

Nay, he needed her.

He hungered for her. Desire hardened his body, making his heart pound.

But what if she wasn’t ready? What if she still feared his touch?

He stopped pacing and faced the door. Once he brought her body to the heights of glorious passion, she would forget her fear.

He threw the door open.

She stood near the hearth but whirled to face him as he entered the room.

Their eyes locked.

“Fiona,” he blurted.

“Jamie,” she gasped, stepping forward.

Her skin was flushed. Her unbound black hair fell in waves over her shoulders, skimming her trim waist.

“Fiona,” he groaned, drawing even closer.

She reached for the ties at her shoulders and tugged. The fabric of her kirtle slipped down her sleek body and puddled at her feet. Her eyes smoldered, licking at his with flames of sweet desire.

“I want ye to make me yers,” she rasped, opening her arms to him.

He seized her, pulling her into a crushing embrace. His lips claimed hers, desperate, hungry. His hands explored her naked flesh. He caressed her soft curves, his hands coursing down her bare torso. Her skin was smooth and silky. He scooped her into his arms, his gaze devouring her round, luscious breasts. Nipples, pink and hard, made his mouth water. He licked his lips as he laid her on the bed. Climbing over her, his kiss started at her lips. Her mouth opened for his tongue. He stroked and teased, delighting in her gasps and how her tongue danced with his. Then he trailed his kiss down her neck.

She groaned. He savored the sound. Her skin tasted so good, so sweet. He moved lower, drawing one of her taut, rosy nipples into his mouth. She arched her back.

“Jamie,” she cried, her nails biting into his shoulders.

He gently squeezed her firm breast, palming her nipple while he continued to suckle her other peak. His lips, trailed over her tender flesh. He caressed the curve of her waist, smoothing his hand down the flare of her hips. As he journeyed lower, tasting, licking, caressing, his tongue found her navel. Her hands raked through his hair. He trailed kisses down her stomach. Then he eased his hand between her thighs. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze.

“Open for me,” he rasped. Her eyes were limpid slits of vulnerable desire. “Spread yer thighs.” She sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands flew to her face. She squeezed her thighs tight. But then her hands fell away.

“I must leap,” she cried out and opened her legs, revealing her body to his gaze. He touched her honeyed warmth, his fingers gently grazing her sensitive nub, stroking, touching. She bucked her hips. He slipped one finger inside her, stoking the flames of her desire, plunging deeper and deeper. She was so tight, so hot.

She gasped, her breaths quickened.

“Oh, Jamie,” she cried.

Fueled by her passionate response, he lowered his head between her thighs and breathed deep her rich scent.