The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) Hildie McQueen (most read books TXT) đź“–
- Author: Hildie McQueen
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He took her mouth and continued to move his hand between her legs.
Suddenly, she could not withstand it anymore, something was about to happen to her body. Isobel gulped in air doing her best to keep it at bay.
“Relax. Ye will like it,” Darach whispered. She bit her bottom lip but then gasped for air.
His mouth took hers and his hand continued the assault until suddenly she broke in two.
Isobel cried out, losing all control.
She clawed at Darach as he positioned himself over her. Unsure of what he’d do next, Isobel prayed he would do something more to quell the flames.
His staff nudged at her entrance and she hungered for it.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Please.”
With a grunt, he seemed to hold back and then entered her slowly. Much too slow, Isobel thought.
Instinctively she knew it was only with his body that the flames would be doused. At the same time, she trembled with fear. Already, he stretched her, and more was to come.
“I am not sure this will work.”
“Shh,” Darach said and plunged into her.
A sharp pain tore through her body, and Isobel screamed.
Darach stilled.
“I thought ye said to have made love before,” he said with a strained expression.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. “It didn’t feel like this.” She took a shaky breath.
Darach lifted up a bit, but remained tucked inside her. “Ye were still a maiden, dear wife. Calm down, the pain will not return.” He kissed her tear-streaked cheeks and then began kissing her again.
Soon Isobel could not stand him remaining still. “Ye should move or something,” she said breathlessly. “I am in need.”
Thankfully, he instinctively must have known what her body wanted, because he pulled out and then drove back in again and again.
Each movement had a double effect of soothing and fanning the flames of desire.
Isobel clung to his broad shoulders, unsure what to do other than allow every sensation free reign.
It took all her willpower to keep from crying out, she gasped with each movement that Darach made. His large body took hers completely, while at the same time he did not hurt her in the least.
When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he was a study in beauty. The tendons of his neck strained as he rocked over her, his skin glistening with perspiration.
Something within her seemed to explode. Isobel grabbed the bedding with all her strength, but it was too late. Everything evaporated until she floated in a night sky, her mouth open in a guttural cry that mingled with Darach’s deep moan.
Chapter Thirteen
With his slumbering wife in his arms, Darach stared up at the ceiling, unable to move, not wishing to actually. His wedding night had surpassed what he’d expected. Not only was his new wife beautiful, but the lovemaking had been unlike any other time he’d been with a woman.
The unexpected surprise of her maidenhead being intact had been enlightening and made him proud. He was indeed the first man she’d given herself to.
Obviously, her last lover had either been inexperienced or a fool. Either way, he cared not. What mattered was that she was fully his.
It could be that for the first time in his life, he’d allowed himself to remain joined with a woman until finding release. Not only had he felt as if his entire world shattered in that moment, but a strong bond formed within.
Sure, Isobel had no way of knowing how deeply he’d been attracted to her. How he’d wanted to spend every moment with her. Until they’d exchanged vows, a part of him had expected something to prevent their marriage.
She shifted and let out a long breath, the warmth of it fanning across his chest and he kissed the top of her head. It wasn’t a comfortable position, his left arm was numb from her weight, but he didn’t care to move her away.
The heat of their lovemaking had astounded him. It was evident from her responses to never have been properly made love to. Many times, she’d clung to him as if in fear, while at the same time urging him to continue.
Overcome by emotion, he pulled her against him just a bit tighter. “I vow to never be unfaithful or disloyal to ye. I promise to protect ye and our bairns with my life.”
“We should discuss the upcoming harvest. The people must be prepared to pay taxes,” Cairn said the next morning when the council met. “They must know that ye are not a laird to be cheated.”
Stuart turned to the man. “What do ye suggest by way of punishment. The people have very little, most are skin and bones. Whatever was done in the past obviously did nothing more than take what little they had.”
The man had the decency to at least look sheepish. He shook his head and regained his usual air of arrogance. “They have little because they are lazy. They do not wish to pay their due.”
“Aye, the old trick,” Ewan said. “Starving oneself to keep from working.”
Cairn’s face turned red. “I will not sit here and be taunted. I sat at yer father’s right hand because he trusted my council. If ye do not wish to listen to me, then why am I here?”
Darach met the man’s gaze. “I give ye deference because of yer years of loyalty to my father. However, as of late, I am learning that my father was not a fair leader, but one who kept my brothers and me at a distance so that we could not intervene in the cruelty of his ways.”
“What exactly do ye think happened?” Cairn asked with distaste. “A strong hand is best when leading people.”
“But not an unfair one,” Darach replied. “I do not agree with yer methods Cairn. And I do not wish for a man, who I do not trust fully, to continue on the council.”
Jumping to his feet, Cairn whirled on each of them, his
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