Chapter 12
Claray swallowed as she watched Conall close the door, then turned her head quickly toward the fire and continued brushing her hair as she listened to him move around. Her mind was suddenly racing. Ridiculous as it was, she was more than a little taken aback at his presence there in her room. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten that they were married now, but she hadn’t really been thinking of it and what it meant. Good Lord! She was married! Which meant he would share her room, her bed . . . and her body.
She swallowed thickly again at that thought as Claray heard the soft shushing plop of material dropping to the rush-covered floor and then the sound of water moving, which she assumed meant he was getting in the tub. That put her in a bit of a quandary as she debated whether she should be offering to help him with his bath or not. Her mother, before she fell ill, had often aided her father in the bath, Claray knew. But she wasn’t sure if that was expected of a wife or just something her parents had enjoyed. They had been happily married, their love for each other obvious to anyone in their presence for more than a few moments.
Before she could decide the matter, she heard a great deal of splashing that suggested her husband might be done with his bath and getting out. Unable to help herself, Claray glanced quickly over her shoulder to see that, yes, he was getting out. He was presently standing in the tub, drying his long, wet hair vigorously with a linen that Mavis must have left for him.
His face was covered by the cloth as he worked, and knowing he couldn’t see her, she found herself drinking in the sight of his body. He was such a well-made man, his body toned and muscled. Even the scars that flecked his body from years as a mercenary couldn’t detract from his beauty in her eyes, and there were a lot of scars: a puckered one on his upper chest that looked to be from an arrow, a jagged slice in his side from a sword or knife and several smaller nicks on his arms and legs. But there was a very large one on his hip that had to be from a sword or battle-axe, she thought, and then realized that his body had stopped moving. She lifted her eyes quickly to his face to see that he’d finished drying his hair. Conall now stood, the damp linen crumpled up in his hands as he watched her examine his body.
Blushing, Claray turned back to the fire and started to brush her hair again, but only got two strokes in before she heard him cross the room toward her. When he settled on the fur behind her and took the brush from her hand, she released it without protest and then sat tense and anxious at first as he took over brushing her hair. When that’s all he did, her muscles slowly began to ease, soothed by the long slow strokes of the brush. But then he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Claray blinked open eyes she hadn’t realized had closed and turned her head toward him with surprise.
The moment she did, Conall claimed her mouth in a soft, questing kiss that had her turning her upper body instinctively toward him as well. Her lips parted almost at once, and he immediately accepted the invitation and deepened the kiss, his hand reaching up to cup the back of her head as his tongue thrust in to fill her.
Claray moaned at the excitement that began to stir to life in her, and slid her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. She did love his kiss. She loved the tingling it started, and the heat it sent through her body, the way it somehow turned excitement and passion into molten lava that pooled low in her belly until it overflowed to leave her wet and aching.
So consumed by his kisses was she that Claray was only vaguely aware of it when Conall clasped her by the waist and turned her toward him. So, when he suddenly broke their kiss, she was somewhat surprised to find herself on her knees between his. She saw amusement flicker across his face as he took in her startled expression, but that died quickly when he untucked the linen wrapped around her chest and it dropped to pool around her knees, leaving her entirely on display. His gaze grew intense then, and hungry, like a starving man presented with a feast.
Claray’s instinct was to cover herself with her hands, but instead she dug her fingers into his shoulders and remained still. She then gasped and stiffened when he lowered his head and leaned forward to latch on to one breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Even as she cried out and arched into the caress, his hand was laying claim to her other breast and kneading the eager flesh, before switching his mouth to claim that nipple now as his fingers plucked at the first.
Hardly aware of the little mewls of need and pleasure slipping from her lips, Claray withstood that as long as she could, and then slid her hands into his damp hair, and pulled his head back so that she could cover his lips with hers. Much to her relief, he gave in to her silent request and kissed her again, his mouth demanding and hungry as he palmed and squeezed her breasts, then alternately tweaked and rolled her nipples until her head was swimming with pleasure and need.
Claray was so caught up in the sensations he was raising in her that she didn’t realize he was lowering her to lie on the fur until she felt it press into her back as he came down half on top of her. His knee pressed between her legs then, rubbing against her and making her cry out into his mouth, and he did it again with the same result. Then his leg shifted and his hand replaced it, his fingers gliding through the folds to find her most sensitive spot.
Claray stilled briefly, and then began to suck frantically on his tongue as he began to rub his fingers gently over, then around, the treasure he’d found. Within moments she was panting, and writhing beneath him, some fine string inside her body tightening as taut as a bow. So caught up was she in that feeling that she hardly noticed when he broke their kiss and began sliding down her body, his mouth grazing over one breast and the other and then licking and nipping his way down across her stomach.
She was vaguely aware of him urging her legs to open wider, so that he could settle between them. However, it wasn’t until his fingers stopped their caressing and his head dipped down between her spread legs that she took notice. She was glancing down with confusion when he nuzzled his face between her thighs and lashed her most sensitive area with his tongue. When Claray gasped and bucked in shock, Conall grasped her upper thighs to hold her in place and pressed his mouth between her legs again.
For one moment, she was too stunned to feel anything else as he began to caress the sensitive nub with his tongue, and then suckled at the lips around it. But that soon passed as her body responded to his hungry feasting. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, nothing she’d even imagined. It was all so raw and carnal and overwhelming and she didn’t know what to do. Claray was quite sure this was not something the church would approve of. He could not give her his seed like this. This was—
“Oh God,” she gasped, her thoughts scattering on the breeze as he began to suck on the most sensitive part of her. And then it became a mantra, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
She felt his finger push into her, and struggled against the hands holding her, wanting to move her hips, though she had no idea why, and couldn’t with him holding her down. He was still caressing her with his mouth even as he withdrew the finger. He then pushed in again and again until something inside of Claray snapped and she cried out breathlessly, her body suddenly thrashing as pleasure overwhelmed her.
Awash in the aftermath, little waves of pleasure still rippling through her, Claray was barely aware of what was happening when Conall shifted, scooped her up and carried her to the bed. She had a moment’s thought of Squeak when he bent to toss the furs aside and set her in it, but then Conall came down on top of her, his mouth claiming hers once more.