a talent for kissing, Flanna,” he told her, smiling.
Now that her senses had ceased to reel, Flanna decided that she, too, had enjoyed their first kiss. She raised her eyes to him again, saying boldly, “We’ll nae know unless we do it some more, my lord.” Then her arms went about his neck, drawing him into her embrace.
He laughed softly, saying, “I am my lady wife’s to command,” and he began to kiss her again.
She melted against him, letting him lead her, quickly learning from his most expert tuition. At first their mouths were like twin butterflies, softly brushing against each other. Then the tenor of his tutelage began to subtly change. His mouth became harder, more demanding, against hers. Flanna felt her belly beginning to roil with a nervous excitement. His thumb and his forefinger were holding her head firmly. His tongue ran along her pouting lips, and surprised again, she gasped, allowing his tongue to plunge deep into the warm, moist cave of her mouth. Her instinct was to struggle, to escape, but he would not permit her. Instead the hot, probing digit sought out her retreating tongue, teasing at it, stroking it, taunting it into a slow and very sensuous dance. Unable to help herself, Flanna followed his lead.
And then she realized that his hand was no longer holding her head. She was a willing participant, and the hand was unlacing the ribbons of her shift. She tore her head from his and cried out, “Nae!” Her hands tried to pull his away.
“The kissing comes first,” Patrick Leslie said thickly. “Then the touching, lassie. Trust me, Flanna. I’ll nae hurt ye, but I need to touch ye now.”
“Why?” she half whispered. Oh, God! His big hand was slipping between the halves of her shift’s neckline to cup her breast. She shivered.
“Because I am nae a virgin, lassie, and ye hae, it would seem, managed to arouse my lust wi’ yer kisses. I must take the edge off of that lust now, or I’ll take ye before ye’re ready,” he told her frankly.
“Oh.” Her voice was very small.
“How quickly yer little heart is beating,” he murmured, and bending his head he kissed the very tip of her breast.
“ ’Twill beat far faster if ye continue to do that,” she gasped. His hand was so warm, and her breast, it would seem, fit quite snugly into the curve of his palm. When he had kissed her nipple, it had been as if she had been struck by a bolt of lightning. The nipple had puckered and grown tight with a little ache.
“A woman’s breasts are meant to be caressed,” he told her.
“I am nae a woman yet,” she quickly countered, her fingers threading themselves into his dark head and pulling it up.
He laughed. “I canna resist yer most bountiful charms, lassie,” he informed her. “Ye’re much too delicious.”
“We dinna know one another,” she protested. “Until this day I never laid eyes upon ye, Patrick Leslie. When I shot my arrows at ye, I but meant to drive ye off. I dinna think we should end the day man and wife.”
“Nor did I, Flanna,” he replied quietly, “but we are man and wife, and I canna think of a better way to know one another than by making love. Many a lass hae been wed wi’ a stranger and found herself none the worse for it. I will be a good husband to ye, lassie.”
“I never thought to be a wife,” she said low.
“But ye are. Ye are my wife.” He held her close. “I am trying to go slowly wi’ ye,” he said to her.
“I know,” she acknowledged, thinking he smelled of soap and leather, horse and man. There was something comforting about it. One arm enfolded her tenderly. A hand caressed her silken hair. She realized she could feel his heart! It was beating steadily beneath his breastbone. Thrum. Thrum. Thrum. Drawing away from him slightly, she undid the laces of his linen shirt. Boldly she kissed his broad chest. It was smooth and warm. Daringly she touched one of his nipples with the very tip of her tongue; then unable to help herself, she began to lick it. How she had thought of such a thing astounded her, but he stood very, very still beneath the wet warmth of her tongue, enchanted by her boldness. Then suddenly she ceased her actions and pressed a hot cheek against his chest, confused.
“That was nice, lassie,” he told her. He wanted to encourage her. “I think now,” he said, “we might remove the last of our garments,” and before she could protest, he drew her shift over her head and dropped it to the floor. “ ’Tis yer turn,” he told her.
“I’ve never seen a naked man,” she told him.
“I hope ye’ll nae be disappointed,” he answered as she pushed back his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor.
She squeezed her eyes shut as her hands pressed the fabric off him. She couldn’t breathe. Patrick Leslie bit his lip hard, forcing back the chuckle that threatened to break forth from his throat. He stood perfectly still and silent as Flanna slowly opened first one eye and then the other to stare directly at his nose even as she drew a deep gulp of air. Reaching out, he gently drew her into his embrace.
“Do ye like my nose?” he teased her.
“Wh-what?” She had actually found her voice despite the fact she was standing stark naked and breast to chest with an equally naked man. “Yer nose?” She looked puzzled.
“Ye are staring quite hard at it, Flanna,” he said.
“I dinna know where else to look, my lord,” she replied candidly.
Unable to help himself, he burst out laughing.
“It is nae amusing, my lord,” Flanna protested, attempting to draw away from him, but he would not allow it.
“Ah, lassie, I am only astounded to learn that ye are shy,” he told her. “The wench who shot her arrows at me this afternoon and then went after me wi’ her dirk is both bashful and reluctant. I am surprised and charmed by the knowledge.” He took one of her thick curls between his thumb and his forefinger, rubbing it, marveling at the soft texture, then putting it to his lips a moment. “To make love is the most natural event between a man and a woman. Every maiden of good reputation must rely upon her bridegroom to show her the way. If yer da were nae so insistent that this marriage be consummated tonight, I would gie ye all the time ye wanted to learn to know me better; but he is emphatic in his demand. He fears I might leave ye a virgin and then claim nonconsummation as an excuse to hae the marriage annulled. If that happened, I would be allowed under the law to retain yer dowry. Brae.”
“Oh,” she said, and looked anxiously into his eyes.
He brushed her cheek lightly with the back of his hand and continued. “I would nae do such a thing, Flanna. I am nae a dishonorable man, nor is my family dishonest. ’Tis truth that I took ye for yer lands at Brae, but every woman is chosen for the attractiveness of her dower. I am a rich man and hae no need of gold, or cattle, but I wanted Brae. The more lands I hold, the better my clan is protected. I should hae refused a king’s daughter wi’out Brae. Do ye understand, lassie?” His knuckles grazed her cheekbone.
“Am I a fool, then, to want to be desired for myself and nae my lands, my lord?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “Nay, Flanna, ye’re not foolish. My own mother disobeyed a direct order from King James to wed wi’ my father because the king’s decision was based upon other factors than if they would suit, or if they loved one another. My father had to woo my mother before she would hae him.”
“Did he win her heart, then, my lord?” she queried.
“Aye,” Patrick Leslie replied, smiling. “He did, indeed, win her heart, so much so that when he was killed at Dunbar she left Glenkirk.”
She was silent a moment, and then she said, “Do ye think we shall love one another one day, my lord?”
The question startled him. Love, it had been his observation, was a complex emotion. Many-sided, it offered both bitter and sweet. He had always been afraid of love, he now realized, in light of her innocent query. Passion