Just Beyond Tomorrow. Bertrice Small

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Just Beyond Tomorrow - Bertrice Small Skye's legacy

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nae so silent earlier today.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Help me off wi’ my boots, madame,” he said.

      “What would ye hae me say, my lord?” she asked him, turning her back on him, taking a boot between her legs with her hands and drawing it off. She then swiftly removed the other boot and turned about to face him once again. “I did nae seek this union between our families. The truth is neither did ye. It was Brae ye wanted, and now ye hae it. Ye dinna want me.”

      “I also needed a wife,” he told her honestly. He unbuttoned his jerkin and, removing it, handed it to her.

      Flanna took the garment and laid it carefully on the room’s single chair. “But had the opportunity nae presented itself,” she replied, “ye would nae hae sought out a Brodie of Killiecairn, would ye?”

      “I dinna know who I would hae sought out,” he answered her candidly. “Before my mother went south, she advised me to take a wife, but the truth is I dinna know any respectable young women in the vicinity. I dinna expect to inherit so soon, for my father was in good health; but then I did inherit, and it became necessary that I find a wife. Ye’ll do as well as any other, lass. As ye said, I wanted Brae.”

      “Do ye hae a mistress, then?” Flanna demanded to know.

      Unexpectedly he grinned at her. “Would ye be jealous if I did?” he teased.

      “Dinna flatter yerself, my lord,” she said sharply. “I simply wish to know what to expect when I get to Glenkirk.”

      “I enjoy the lasses,” he admitted, “and I hae three acknowledged bastards, two lads and a wee lass; but their mams were momentary diversions for me. Still, I do acknowledge my bairns and see them free of any want. I hae never kept a mistress at Glenkirk, however, or anywhere else, madame.”

      Flanna nodded. “What does a duchess do? I am nae well educated. I know how to manage a household. I can sign my name; but I am unschooled in refinements, and I canna speak in any foreign tongue. I dinna want to shame ye, my lord.”

      Patrick Leslie was strangely touched by Flanna’s frankness. She was an uncomplicated and honest girl. Perhaps this hasty match would not prove to his disadvantage after all. He stood and began to unbutton his breeches. “Glenkirk is larger than yer father’s house, of course,” he began. “Since my mother’s departure, there hae been no woman to manage the castle. Her personal servants, who had come wi’ her when she married my father, ran the household. Glenkirk badly needs a woman’s touch, madame. Yer skills will be appreciated. Ye may choose whomever ye wish to serve ye from among our people, and ye’ll hae yer Aggie and yer Angus wi’ ye.” He stepped out of the dark woolen breeches, then his linen drawers, again handing them to her.

      Suddenly silent again, Flanna took the proffered garments, her eyes casting a quick look at his long legs that stuck out from beneath his almost knee-length shirt. The rounded tops of his knees were just visible from above his stockings. He bent to quickly roll them off, kicking them aside. Then he turned to face her once again. “Well, madame, we are ready to proceed now, I believe.”

      Flanna swallowed hard. “I certainly dinna know what to do,” she said.

      “Come here to me,” he gently ordered her.

      She moved the few steps to stand before him.

      “Tell me exactly what you know, or have heard, about a husband and wife’s private moments,” he said quietly.

      “Nothing, really,” she admitted. “Before I came into the hall for our wedding vows, my sister-in-law told me to lay quiet when ye went into me, and if ye were skillful, I might gain some pleasure from ye; but, my lord, I havena the faintest idea what Una meant! I am sorry to be so ignorant, or to displease ye, but there it is.”

      Now it was Patrick Leslie’s turn to swallow hard. If Flanna was to be believed, and he was certain she was, then she was a virgin with no knowledge at all, as opposed to a virgin with some education in the school of passion. Had he ever had such a virgin? Had he ever taken any virgin? He didn’t believe so. “Hae ye ever let a lad kiss ye, Flanna?” he asked her. Suddenly addressing her as madame seemed inappropriate. “Or cuddle wi’ ye?”

      “Of course nae!” she answered him indignantly. “What do ye take me for, my lord? I’m nae some loose lightskirt, quick to duck into a dark corner or lay out in the heather wi’ every lad.”

      He nodded. “I never thought otherwise, lassie, but a quick kiss or a cuddle is nae a crime. Still, if ye hae nae education in the school of love, then I must teach ye from the beginning. Yer da expects yer maidenhead sacrificed by the morrow, or he’ll nae gie me the deeds to Brae. We hae much work to do, ye and I, before the dawn.”

      “Brae again!” she cried. “Ohhh, take it, and leave me in peace, my lord! I should sooner die a maid!” She turned her back on him.

      Patrick laughed softly. Then reaching out, he drew her back so she stood against him, one arm loosely about her waist. Unable to help himself, he buried his face for a moment in her long, red-gold hair. It was fragrant with the scent of white heather. “Nah, nah, lassie,” he said in a soothing voice, “’twould be a crime if ye died a maid, for ye’re so verra fair.” He pushed the thick mass of curls aside and placed a light kiss upon her nape. The skin beneath his lips was soft. She would easily engage his lust, he thought, pleased. He had lain with other women on shorter acquaintance.

      Her breath caught in her throat. His arm gently, but now firmly pinioning her against his hard body, the warm touch of his mouth on the back of her neck was both startling and intriguing. “Do ye really think me fair?” she asked him shyly when her voice finally returned. What the hell was the matter with her? She was behaving like a perfect ninny.

      “Aye,” he answered, turning her about to look at him again. He tilted her oval face up to his, then bending his head kissed her gently.

      To her mortification, Flanna almost swooned with the contact between their two lips. Her heart beat wildly, thundering within her chest cavity and echoing in her ears; her head swam dizzily. Her whole being was suffused with warmth as she swayed like a sapling in the wind. “Ooohhh,” was all she could manage to say when he finally lifted his mouth from hers.

      His hands went out to steady her. She blushed, embarrassed, and hid her head in his shoulder. Her guilelessness charmed him. “I think ye may hae a talent for kissing, Flanna,” he told her, smiling.

      Now that her senses had ceased to reel, Flanna decided that she, too, had enjoyed their first kiss. She raised her eyes to him again, saying boldly, “We’ll nae know unless we do it some more, my lord.” Then her arms went about his neck, drawing him into her embrace.

      He laughed softly, saying, “I am my lady wife’s to command,” and he began to kiss her again.

      She melted against him, letting him lead her, quickly learning from his most expert tuition. At first their mouths were like twin butterflies, softly brushing against each other. Then the tenor of his tutelage began to subtly change. His mouth became harder, more demanding, against hers. Flanna felt her belly beginning to roil with a nervous excitement. His thumb and his forefinger were holding her head firmly. His tongue ran along her pouting lips, and surprised again, she gasped, allowing his tongue to plunge deep into the warm, moist cave of her mouth. Her instinct was to struggle, to escape, but he would not permit her. Instead the hot, probing digit sought out her retreating tongue, teasing at it, stroking it, taunting it into a slow and very sensuous dance. Unable to help herself, Flanna followed his lead.

      And

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