Annabelle's Courtship

She arched against him. She would have come off the bed, but for the weight of his body against hers. “Ian. ”

He continued his ministrations to her breast with his hand while his mouth trailed hot, wet kisses down her neck across her collarbone and to her other breast.

“I love what you do to me. I love you, Ian.” He stilled for a moment and looked into her eyes.

“You are mine.”

She nodded frantically. She would agree to anything to get him to go back to his sweet torture. She never wanted to belong to anyone else. He took her nipple into his mouth. She screamed and he growled with male satisfaction. She could not stand the torment. Her lower body bucked against his, seeking the release she had found in the carriage and at the inn the day Ian had proposed.

His mouth and hands abandoned her and Annabelle’s eyes flew open. She wanted to protest, but could not make herself speak. He tore his shirt off and the rest of his clothes followed quickly. The sight of his vibrantly erect manhood sent shards of desire shooting through her.

Before she could comment, he had lifted her skirts to her waist and settled back on top of her. The feel of his naked hardness against her skin thrilled her. It felt so right.

“Ian, please, do something.”

He kissed her. Within seconds she was writhing under him again, this time her bare legs twining with his. She felt his male hardness at the juncture of her thighs and cried out. She wanted him. All of him.

“Aye, Belle, ’tis time.”

His words came to her through a haze of passion. She barely registered them. He spread her thighs until she was completely open to him. He caressed her inner thighs and she grew feverish with desire for him to move his hand where she was longing for it to be.

Desperate, she grabbed his wrist and placed his hand on the juncture between her thighs.

“Aye, you’re as hot for me as I am for you, Belle.” His fingers slid in and out of her moist passage, spreading the wetness to the rest of her feminine flesh. Soon she was slick with her own excitement. He rubbed against the small nub above her most secret place. Her hands gripped the blankets under her.

Somehow, it was more than before and she did not think she could stand it. “Ian, I cannot bear this.”

He moved until his hardness was at her entrance. Slowly, he began to slip inside. It was the most amazing experience Annabelle had ever known. She gasped as he filled her, joining his body with hers.

He had been right. This was different. This was a miracle. Her body resisted him.

She felt a small amount of pain. She almost cried in frustration. It wasn’t going to work.

“You are too big. Ian, we do not fit.”

“You must trust me.”

She tensed under him. “But it hurts, Ian.”

He continued to press forward. “I know, Belle, but it will only hurt for a little while.” Her pleasure receded as the pain in her body took control. She pulled on his hair. “I don’t like this.”

He leaned down and kissed her with a hot open-mouthed kiss. She remembered the times in the past he had told her to trust him. He had not disappointed her. He must know something she did not. She began to relax again under him. He continued to kiss her until she was once again roaming her hands over his body. She shifted under him, trying to get more comfortable at the invasion.

“Nay, Belle, dinna move, lass, or I will be lost.” Pleasure warred with the pain at their joining. “But I want to.” Groaning, he slid his hand between their bodies and caressed her. Her body tensed, but this time with pleasurable anticipation. She pushed against him, wanting more of his fullness. It still hurt, but her pleasure overrode the pain.

“Aye, lass, that’s right.”

With one final thrust he was inside her. She shouted a protest against the tearing sensation. It hurt! His lips muffled her yell, so she pounded on his back and twisted her mouth away from his. “Stop, Ian, this is not working.” He stopped, his body completely rigid above hers. He looked into her eyes. He leaned down and tenderly licked away her tears. “Do ye trust me, Belle?” How could she not? “Yes, but—”

He would not let her finish. “Then trust me to give you pleasure past the pain. ’Tis only this time that will be this way for you. Do ye believe me?” She nodded. She truly did believe him. Ian would never lie to her.

“Can I move now?” he asked.

The sharp pain had started to recede already. She nodded again, hoping it would be over soon. He moved slightly and she felt another spurt of discomfort and an equal measure of pleasure.

Sweat stood out on his forehead and his face was a mask of tightly held control. It occurred to her that he held himself back with a great deal of effort. Somehow the knowledge dispelled the last of her fears. She moved slightly under him and felt pleasure cascade through her body.

He began to move again, slowly. She did not want him to go slow. She lifted her hips against him demanding that he move faster. He complied. It was not fast enough. She wanted more. She needed more.

“Ian.” She yelled his name.

He thrust against her. Her entire body felt on the verge of a great precipice. Ian gave a shout and climaxed inside her. She went over the precipice. Her body convulsed around him. The sensations went on and on.

“Now you belong to me.”

She would have smiled at his possessive tone, but she was too languid. After the final tremor had shaken her body, she went limp under Ian.

He leaned down and kissed her softly. “Ye can always trust me, Belle.” She smiled. “Yes.”

The weight of his body made it difficult to breathe, but she did not want him to move. Now he belonged to her as well. He lifted himself off her. He walked away and she could not summon the strength to see what he was doing. She nearly jumped off the bed when she felt him wiping her legs with a wet linen.

He finished and threw the linen aside. “Now, can I help you undress?” She laughed. A small amount of concern remained about his reaction to her body.

She was not built like a Cyprian. However, she had to admit that he had seen most of her already. Besides, a man could not fake the kind of passion he had just exhibited.

She stood up. “Very well.”

His eyes filled with tender warmth. He teased her, “Your gown is well and truly crushed now.”

She looked at the white silk ruefully. He was right. It was also ruined. She sighed.

“Do not tell my aunt or Diana. They spent a great deal of the last three days making sure that this dress was just perfect.”

“I’ll no tell. ’Tis a fact that the woman wearing it is more my concern.” She realized that Ian wanted to see her body just as she could see his. She liked his hard masculinity, but found herself unable to take more than sparing glimpses at his nakedness. Perhaps when they had been married longer, she would not be embarrassed to look at his body.

She offered him her back. He reached out and began to untie the ribbons that held her gown together. When he finished, he gently slid the silk over her hips. He did not stop there. Without pausing, he untied her chemise and slipped it off of her. Gooseflesh broke out on her heated skin as her body became completely exposed to Ian’s gaze.

She was afraid to see his reaction and equally afraid not to. Giving herself a short mental lecture on being a goose, she lifted her eyes to meet his. What she saw there made her suck in her breath.

“Ye are beautiful, Belle.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she launched herself at him. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt so perfect. She fit him like the heather fit the meadows around Graenfrae.

She was his.

She sighed against his chest. “This is nice.” It was more than nice, but he wouldn’t frighten her by saying so. Her unexpected timidity about making love had shocked him. She hadn’t shown any of that fear when they had kissed and touched intimately before. There had been more than one point at

which he wasn’t sure he would be able to continue to maste

r his body’s reaction to his wife.

In fact, if she didn’t stop wiggling her naked body against him, his self-control would vanish now. She had no concept of her appeal. When he started to grow hard, he thrust her from him.

“What is the matter?” Her gaze dropped to his rapidly swelling manhood and she sucked in her breath. “Oh.”

“Aye. Where is your sleeping robe? I dinna ken how much good it will do, but I’ll not maul you when you are tender.”

She walked toward him and stopped. She grimaced. “I am a little tender.”

“I ken.”

Her grimace turned to a smile. “You really should do something about your arrogance, you know.”

He shrugged.

She laughed softly. Her small pink and white breasts shivered with her mirth. Where was her bloody nightrobe? He was going to toss her on the bed and ravish her in another moment. Why had he insisted on seeing her perfect body after they had made love? He knew the answer before he asked the question.

Because he needed to.

He stormed over to the wardrobe. Someone had unpacked their clothes and hung them. He grabbed what looked like a sleeping robe and thrust it at Belle. “Put this on.” She obeyed him, chuckling all the while. “Would you have me believe that mere sight of my unremarkable body is enough to throw you into a passionate frenzy?” She thought this amusing? Was not his throbbing manhood testimony enough to his predicament? He growled and she laughed harder. “’Tis the truth, I would put play to your amusement, lass, if I dinna ken how tender you are.” She tied the belt on her robe. Her smile was warm and accepting. “You are a true gentleman, my love.”

Her words poured over him like a healing balm. The discomfort was worth that look of approval in her eyes. He pulled on his breeches, forcing his unruly self into confinement.

She came toward him with a package wrapped in brown paper. “Here.”