Slowly she let the blanket fall away and Graeme hastily pressed the fur to her. She smiled and tucked it underneath her arms and then held it around her as she sat back down on the bench. Then she patted the place beside her, hoping that he, too, would take a seat and dry in front of the fire.
“I need to take off these wet clothes,” he said.
She nodded and turned, because it was obvious he was uncomfortable undressing in her presence. But she couldn’t help keeping enough of an angle so she could see him in her periphery.
She was extremely curious about her husband’s body and she wanted to see him. She’d never seen a man fully naked before.
She held her breath when he quickly stripped out of his tunic and his leggings. He turned sideways as he reached for dry clothing from the trunk at the foot of his bed.
He was … She wasn’t sure she had the words to adequately convey her awe or admiration. He had a warrior’s body, but it was … beautiful.
Thick legs, heavily muscled, as were his arms and broad shoulders. At the juncture of his legs was a dark whorl of hair and his manhood … She swallowed nervously, not wanting to be caught out staring, but she was fascinated by that particular portion of his anatomy.
She knew enough of the whole mating process to know what went where, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around how. It looked way too large to ever fit inside her, and as much as she wanted to be a true wife and consummate their marriage, she couldn’t imagine that it could be done without considerable pain and effort on her part.
Still, such a step was important if she was to be a true wife to Graeme and she wanted that. Wanted his acceptance and eventually his clan’s acceptance, if they could ever reach that point. She didn’t want to forever be the wife that Graeme Montgomery was saddled with, nothing more than a penance he had to pay for forced peace with her father’s clan.
She quickly forced her gaze forward when Graeme finished dressing, and a moment later, he settled onto the seat beside her before the fire.
She glanced up at him, not wanting to miss anything he would say, but he remained silent, his gaze focused on the flames.
Perhaps she should kiss him again. She certainly wanted to, but was nervous about how receptive he’d be now that she no longer had the element of surprise.
She licked her lips in anticipation and continued to stare up at him.
As if feeling the force of her gaze, he turned in her direction. His brown eyes glowed from the light of the fire and he seemed to study her, almost as if weighing his thoughts and words.
“I do not know what to do with you, Eveline Armstrong.”
She could feel the resignation in the way he held his body and the expression on his face. She frowned, not liking the implications of such a statement.
“I know not if what I am feeling is right and I do not like the guilt that plagues me for enjoying our kiss as I did.”
She smiled then, her heart suddenly lighter than it had been just moments before. She felt suddenly shy and would have averted her gaze, but knew it was too important to be able to see whatever he would say next.
Then she reached up to touch his chin, slowly moving her fingers over his lips. He closed his eyes, seeming to find pleasure in her touch. Before he could reopen them, she rose up to press her mouth against his.
The fur fell partially away from her body, but she paid it no heed as her lips covered the firm line of his mouth. She wanted to taste him again, to take his tongue inside again and feel it against her own.
His breath vibrated against her lips as he let out a sigh. Of resignation? Of surrender? She knew not, only that his mouth parted and his tongue stroked warmly over hers, returning her kiss in full measure.
There seemed to be no reluctance, no sign that he was fighting this strengthening emotion between them.
It was the sweetest pleasure Eveline had ever experienced. She wanted the moment to last forever, but Graeme was the first to pull away, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down at her.
Gently, he set her away from him. It felt more symbolic than a simple separation, almost as if he were erecting a visible barrier between them or that perhaps he needed the distance.
“I have matters to attend to,” he said.
Without looking at her again, he rose and walked to the doorway of their chamber. She didn’t look over her shoulder, as tempted as she was to do so. She was both elated and disheartened by the kiss and resulting reactions.
She stared down at her hands for a long moment, gathering her wildly scattered emotions. She had no experience in matters of the heart. Her one exposure to a potential husband had been disastrous and she’d vowed never to allow herself into a situation such as the one she would have found herself in with Ian McHugh. And the truth of the matter was, she hadn’t had a choice with Graeme, and it could have turned out as bad as or worse than any marriage to Ian. She’d merely been fortunate that Graeme didn’t seem intent on ill-using her and that he showed her kindness instead of vengeance.
Taking a deep breath, she stood, allowing the fur to fall away, and then she walked to the bed where Rorie had laid out a dress for her to change into. She wouldn’t allow anything to spoil today. Not spiteful clan members. Not her own doubts and misgivings or her fears over revealing the truth to Graeme.
She’d enjoyed her first kiss, her first taste of passion, and the stirrings of a desire she wanted to pursue.
Knowing that Rorie would likely be curious as to what prompted Graeme carrying her back to the keep and that she might even be concerned, Eveline headed down the stairs, determined to brave the gauntlet.
She was Graeme’s wife, whether his clan wanted to accept it or not. She’d accepted it, and if she had her way, Graeme would accept it soon as well. In time, his clan would follow suit. She had to believe that.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she sucked in a deep breath and rounded the doorway leading into the hall. She hurried toward the far end where the exit into the short corridor that housed the tiny room where Rorie liked to spend so much time was.
But the room was dark, furs drawn over the window, and Rorie was nowhere in sight. With a frown, Eveline returned to the hall, deciding to venture out of the keep where she’d hopefully discover Rorie’s whereabouts.
Where before the hall had been mostly empty save for a few women going back and forth from the kitchen, Eveline came face-to-face with a veritable crowd, or at least it seemed so with so many blocking her pathway to the courtyard.
At the forefront of the group of women—five women Eveline counted—was Kierstan, whose surly expression could only mean that this wasn’t going to be a friendly encounter.
Kierstan’s lip curled. “Whore.”
Eveline blinked in surprise. For one, it wasn’t her usual method of insult. Eveline had truly thought the lass limited in her vocabulary to a single insult.
The other women nodded, their expressions as fierce as Kierstan’s own.