There was a heated swelling between her legs, a moistness she did not understand.
When he slid his hand over her trembling stomach and then between her legs, she froze. He kissed her again and, with a few skillful strokes of his fingers, pushed back the shock of his personal touch. His finger thrust inside her, imitating the movement of his tongue in her mouth.
He felt so strong against her body that she was completely enthralled by his masculinity. The possessiveness of his touch did not lessen her awareness of the man in her arms. In truth, she sensed a sudden secureness, protectiveness, coming from him. Is this what it meant to be husband and wife? Her mind was so cluttered with thoughts that she wasn’t exactly sure what she was experiencing.
Her husband’s body moved to partially cover hers, his hands lifting her nightrail above her hips. She momentarily stiffened but quickly remembered Mary’s words of wisdom.
As Alex crouched over his bonny wife, he cursed the dim light. From what he could see, Sybella was exquisite. Her creamy breasts filled his hands and her slender hips ignited his passion. Frankly, she aroused him so swiftly that he was afraid he might not be able to take it slowly. That would be a definite challenge.
He reached down and loosened his kilt while he continued to drug her with passionate kisses. He knew she was more than a little nervous, so he would continue to distract her in pleasant ways.
Praise the saints. The lass was so wet and ready for him.
He eased himself inside her and, with one quick thrust, made her his.
Sybella gasped and he held himself up on his forearms, fighting to remain still. He tried not to breathe. His body shook with strain, and sweat beaded on his forehead. Damn, how he craved to move.
He wanted to give her body time to adjust to him, but the feel of her tight heat was almost his undoing. He placed his head to hers, maddened with need.
“Is that all?” she asked with rounded eyes.
He tried to stay the laugh that wanted to escape from him. “Nay, lass, there is much, much more.” He grasped her by the calves and gently pushed her legs up until her knees were bent.
When he pressed deeper within her, she clamped her eyes shut and cried out, “Yan, Tyan, Tethera, Methera, Pimp, Sethera, Lethera, Hovera, Dovera, Dik—”
“What are ye doing?” he asked through clenched teeth, his chest heaving. When she hesitated, he thought she was about to answer him. But her eyes remained shut and she continued to chant—louder.
“Yanadik, Tyanadik, Tetheradik.”
“God’s teeth, Sybella!”
“I count sheep,” she said, her voice cold and lashing.
His wife’s emotionless words killed his ardor like a bucket of ice-cold water. When Alex pulled back, Sybella swiftly rolled to her side, tugging the blankets away from him. She became as quiet as a mouse, her behavior unsettling.
Momentarily taken aback by her change in attitude, he swallowed hard, trying not to reveal his anger. He’d tried to be patient with her, but when his beloved wife purposely ignored him and did not even stir, he’d had enough. He promptly stood and grabbed his kilt and tunic from the floor. With one last look at the bed, he glowered at the wily female and stormed through the adjoining door. Her actions were as cold and empty as the bed she would sleep in this eve.
When Alex reached his chamber, he contemplated what the hell had happened. His mind turned to their embrace on the parapet. The lass had given in freely to the passion of his kiss. He would love to know what had changed between then and when he’d left her bed only a short moment ago.
He’d never forget the expression on her face. With her eyes clamped shut, Sybella’s look was one of pure torture. He was as gentle and careful as he could’ve been for her first time, but when his wife started to count sheep beneath him, that was the last straw. He would never forget the relief that crossed her face when he rolled onto his side. He wasn’t a total arse. He was going to stay and offer her comfort. But from the look of things, she wanted no part of it—or him.
Whatever his wife’s issues were, she had better get over them soon. He would be visiting her chamber often and would not think about leaving her alone until she became with child. He was disappointed in her. She had seemed so willing to start anew when he kissed her that afternoon, and for a brief time, he was foolish enough to believe they had an understanding.
He refused to dwell on his wife’s odd behavior any longer.
At least the MacKenzies would be leaving in a few short hours. Maybe then, he could finally get everything and everyone around him back to normal. That had not been the case for so long that he needed to remember exactly what normal entailed. Nevertheless, he had one less problem to worry about. His clan would be fed; his union with Sybella taking care of that.
And poor Aunt Iseabail.
Perhaps once all of the commotion had ended and everything settled down, she would have time to rest. The festivities seemed to be taking their toll. Although his aunt obviously favored the companionship of William MacKenzie, the last thing Alex wanted was another of Sybella’s pesky kin under his roof. By this time on the morrow, it would all be over.
With a long, exhausted sigh, Sybella pulled herself to her feet and then quickly dropped back onto the bed.
Her body ached.
No wonder. But at least the toughest part was over and she now knew what to expect—although it wasn’t nearly as insufferable as Mary had described.
Sybella rose from the bed, wanting to spend some time with Colin before he took his leave. When a feeling of loneliness washed over her, she willed it away. Everything would be all right. She would accept nothing less. Even though the last few days had unsettled her, she would smile and hold her head high when her clan left for home.
She pulled out her day dress and had turned to the bed when she noticed a spot of blood on the covers. Lifting her nightrail, she observed the same underneath.
Mary never mentioned blood.
Dear God.
Why was she bleeding? It was not her time.
There was a knock on the adjoining door. “Wife?”
The door cracked open and Sybella ran to close it, barely missing Alexander’s face. “Please donna come in here,” she said in a rush of words.
Her husband’s large hand gripped the door. “Why? What is amiss?”
She pushed again, but the door would not budge against the huge mass of her husband. “Please, Alexander. There is naught—”
He shoved the door open and walked through, stealing a glance around her chamber. “What is amiss?”
“’Tis naught,” she said with as much innocence as she could muster. She whipped the covers up on the bed and bunched up her nightrail, holding it to the side. When his eyes narrowed, she was keenly aware of his scrutiny. She continued to stare at him, feigning indifference.
He let out a long, audible breath. “Did we nae discuss that I will nae tolerate lies between us? It has only been one day, and already ye forget my words.” He leisurely walked over to the sitting area and pulled out a chair. “I will simply sit here until ye speak the truth.”
When she lifted her brow, he returned the same gesture and waited.
Sybella paled at the enormity of the command. She had not forgotten the words they spoke on the parapet, but she was intensely humiliated. She sat down on the bed, her fingers squeezing the bridge of her nose. “Alexander—”
“I am listening.” His tone was the same as if he were talking with a child. Pausing, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “I thought we had an understanding last eve. I expect the truth. Mayhap I wasnae clear in my purpose. When I ask something of ye, I presume ye would be honest. I told ye as much before. I donna tolerate lies.”