She felt him shaking. He was holding himself in check, pressing into her slowly. Her body was tight, resisting the penetration, but she was wet, too.
And eager.
“Go on,” she encouraged him. “Let’s be done with this part.”
He opened his eyes, locking gazes with her.
“I’m not frightened, Faolan.”
*
She wasn’t.
Faolan felt something tear through him. Whatever it was, it ripped aside the last of his reservations. He gave himself over to the moment, allowing his senses to be filled with Cora’s scent.
Temptress.
His…
He pressed deep. She made a soft sound, and her hands tightened on his upper arms. But she lifted her hips for him, never shifting away.
He opened his eyes, not wanting to miss even a single detail. The moment was another on a list of things he’d long ago demanded he never even think about. Because reality was too cruel when it smashed his dreams.
Now, his length was buried deep inside a woman he’d never imagined might be his. She quivered but opened her eyes.
“Does it get better now?” she asked boldly.
Faolan felt his lips rise into a grin. He pulled back and pressed forward again. “I’ll make sure it does, lass.”
The effort cost him. He gritted his teeth and battled the need to rush toward the climax. Cora moved with him. Her passion awakening. The tiny sounds she made threatened to undermine his self-control and yet, at the same time, hardened his resolve to maintain his hold on his own needs until she peaked.
He held her through the moment, growling as he felt his control shredding and his seed beginning to flow. They strained toward one another, caught in the grip of rapture.
Faolan rolled to the side but gathered Cora close. He wanted to remain awake, just to savor the time when no one was there but her. To savor the time when he wasn’t less than worthy to claim her. In the morning, there would be judging eyes. Plenty of them. But for now, there was only the scent of Cora’s skin and the sound of her breathing as she fell into a deep sleep.
*
Gilmor’s fingers curled into a fist. He wanted to pound it into the tabletop but controlled the effort.
Matters would be far simpler if the marriage went unconsummated. The Mackenzies were a powerful clan. If Cora conceived, the Mackenzie would want to see it placed in charge of the McKay.
Faolan was long gone with his bride, though. The McKay Retainers were having a good chuckle over the way their new laird had carried her off. Faolan’s strength was legendary. Malcolm had banished him from the stronghold because he feared Noreen pushing him too far. Following them wouldn’t end in his favor.
So, there would be no preventing the consummation of the union.
But that didn’t mean he was without options. Gillmor’s gaze settled on Brynna. She was seated at the end of one of the long tables. As the champion of the mistress, she occupied a spot at the end of the table where she might keep an eye on Cora.
Brynna was enjoying her supper now that her mistress didn’t require attention. Gilmor had never taken much notice of the girl, for she was a foundling. A McKay who had found her way back into the clan because of her mother’s blood. She was barely accepted. Her prospects among the Retainers were poor at best. She should have lingered in obscurity at the towers, wedding quietly to one of the men sent there.
Now she was serving the mistress.
Many would say she had stumbled onto a fine bit of luck.
Gilmor decided it was precisely what he needed. He finished his supper and went in search of his aunt.
Chapter Eight
Yestin and Gainor opened the door of Faolan’s chamber at first light.
“It’s barely morn, ye bastards,” Faolan growled.
Cora let out a yelp as she rolled over the far side of the bed. She landed on her feet, and the cold floor connected with them. The sudden chill drove any remains of sleep away as she clamped her mouth shut to keep her teeth from chattering.
“Here now, Mistress.”
Brynna was suddenly there with a dressing robe. Cora happily unfolded her arms so she might be wrapped up. Faolan didn’t care a bit who saw him in only a shirt. He stood in the middle of the chamber as the two captains turned and gestured to several matrons who were hesitating in the doorway.
“Come forward and witness. This union is consummated.”
Cora felt her cheeks heat. Faolan was her husband, so there was no shame in the matter, and still, it chaffed to have so many people intent on knowing the intimate details of their night together.
Of course, she’d been raised to expect such.
That doesn’t make it any more palatable…
No, it didn’t.
But at least it was over.
Brynna guided her out of the chamber before any of the captains had time to see her. The matrons performed their duty well by forming a wall around Cora as she was taken downstairs, through the passageway, and up into the tower where her chamber was.
Was Faolan relieved to have her taken away?
Why do ye ask?
Honestly, she should have left well enough alone. She’d already decided that being wed to him would suit her decently. And he’d treated her kindly.
You mean ye enjoyed being bedded…
Her cheeks were back to flaming. The matrons who had walked with them chuckled at her expense.
“Enough now.”
As unlikely as it was, Orla was the one who put an end to the morning’s entertainment. The Head-of-House arrived and wielded her authority seamlessly by pointing even the matrons toward the door.
“Enough of that already,” Orla chastised them all. “She’s the mistress. Remember that.”
The chuckles stopped.
“Mistress,” one of the matrons said respectfully.
The others turned and lowered themselves before they left the chamber.
“With only a few mouthfuls of supper last evening, ye must be famished.” Orla made a motion with her hand, and a maid was moving forward to place a tray on the table in the receiving chamber. “There’s more than morning porridge there for ye.”
The tray was laden with small bites of cheese and fruit. A thick slice of bread with jam spread across it. And there was a lid over the porridge. Once the maid set the tray carefully on the table, she reached in and pulled the lid up, releasing a puff of steam that carried the scent of warm cereal and nuts.
A very fine meal indeed.
Worthy of the mistress of the house.
“Thank ye, Orla.”
The Head-of-House inclined her head. She took a long look toward the door before she reached into the pocket she’d made by tucking the end of her apron into her belt. This time she produced another pottery jug.
“A bit of something to ease the ache,” Orla said as she set it on the table.
The Head-of-House started to leave. Orla stopped and sent Brynna a stern look. “Serve the mistress well, for there are plenty who covet yer spot.”
“Brynna pleases me,” Cora said.
Orla nodded a single time before she made her way to the doorway. Several of the maids had stopped to linger on the landing. They were straining their necks to get a view of what was happening inside the chamber. There was a scamper on the steps as they realized the Head-of-House was coming toward them.
The door shut with a firm sound. It sent a wave of relief through Cora. Brynna picked up the pottery jug and plied the waxed rope stopper from its top. She sniffed at the contents.