The Lion (Clan Ross of the Hebrides Book 1) by Hildie McQueen (ereader for android .TXT) 📕

Her mother-in-law smiled. “Aye, Darach had instructed that all yer clothes and such be moved here.”

They walked into the large room that housed an oversized masculine bed. The bed was the only furniture Isobel noted. A fire burned in the hearth, and it was obvious that the space was recently swept, the scent of lavender was fresh.

Spread on the bed was a beautiful white nightgown, which she ignored.

Her mother led her to stand in front of a mirror. Annis hurried in and helped her to undress.

Once her hair was brushed out and she sat on the bed in the new nightdress, Annis and Lady Ross went out the door.

Her mother remained and came to the bed. “What happens between a husband and wife is natural darling. Remember to relax and allow him to do what he will. I am sure the laird is experienced in this matter.”

Isobel gave her mother a droll look. “I am sure he is.”

“Do ye have any questions?”

In truth, she had many. She’d had relations once, with her last betrothed, who seemed pained by the entire experience. For her, it had been swift and confusing. After that one time, he’d not tried to touch her again.

“I suppose it’s like two horses when they mate?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “I do not think he will be behind ye.” Her cheeks pinkened. “Yer husband will be over ye, he will guide himself to yer center and enter ye that way. Ye should be aware of this Isobel”

Isobel shrugged. “I suppose I am. Mother I assure ye, I can deal with it without embarrassing ye.”

Her mother took her hand and patted it. “I wish ye happiness and love. Because if ye love one another, what happens between a husband and wife will be much more pleasurable.”

Isobel followed her mother’s progress as she walked out. How exactly could love affect relations? What men and women did in bed was something in which only the men found pleasure.

The door opened and Isobel kept her gaze on the ceiling.

“Ye look as if laid out after death,” Darach commented, and despite her trepidation of what would come soon, a chuckle escaped.

“I am doing what I was instructed to by our mothers. To lay and wait.”

He neared the bed and took her arms pulling her up to sit. “We can talk while I prepare for bed.”

“Very well,” Isobel replied.

“Did ye enjoy the ceremony today?” he asked, pulling off his boots. “I have to agree with ye, I did prefer the smaller group attending.”

Isobel wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but small talk had not been on her list. “Aye, I did enjoy it. The food was good as well.”

“Ye looked beautiful today; however, in this moment, ye take my breath away.” Darach removed his plaid, leaving him in only his white tunic that fell just above his knees.

Isobel swallowed against the dryness that developed in her throat when he pulled the tunic up from the hem displaying strong thighs, narrow hips, and a flat rippled stomach.

Her eyes flew to the patch of light hair between his thighs and then just below to his manhood. He didn’t seem to mind her perusal and she took advantage, as she wasn’t sure to ever see him devoid of clothing again. Not unless he slept in the nude, which she very much doubted.

Darach was magnificently made. His body a depiction of masculinity and strength. At first, she was in so much awe, the idea of joining with him did not come to mind.

However, when his sex responded to her perusal, she realized the growing, hardening member would be shoved into her.

It was definitely going to hurt.

“Take yer clothing off. It is easier to enjoy one another when devoid of all clothes.” Darach neared and expertly untied the ribbons at the neckline and then slid her nightgown off.

He climbed on the bed and instead of coming over her, he lay beside her.

“Turn to me wife,” he said, and Isobel obeyed.

Their gazes met and she wondered if she looked as terrified as she felt.

“Ye have questions,” Darach stated.

Isobel wasn’t sure if she did, but she nodded. “I am nervous about how much it will hurt.”

His brows came together in a frown. “Ye are not a maid. Did ye not say ye had experienced relations before?”

“Once, aye, but I do not think he was… like ye are.”

He took her hand and wrapped her fingers around his staff. “It was the same I assure ye.”

“No,” Isobel replied, curious as to how soft his skin felt, yet under the surface, he was hard. “I never saw it, I can assure ye, but I know it was not this… thick.”

His lips curved. “I promise to make it pleasurable.”

“Do not lie to me, sir…” She stopped talking because he pulled her against him and took her mouth. Darach kissed her as if he were starving for her, as if she were a lifeline to a drowning man.

Wrapped in his arms, his hands slid down her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her against his sex.

She released him, placing her arms around him as the kiss intensified. Strangely, within moments, the feeling she’d had once before when kissed by him began to flicker. The longer his lips kept hers captive, the hotter the internal flame became.

Finally, she was gasping, barely able to breathe past the sensations that attacked. Darach released her mouth and licked a trail to her breasts, where he lavished one with attention before moving to the other.

Isobel pulled her legs together as heat pooled between them. She wanted relief but was unsure how it would come.

Lifting his head, Darach placed his mouth next to her ear. “I want to hear yer pleasure,” he whispered.

Before she could attempt to understand, he slid one hand between her legs, then he slid a finger into her sex, while at the same time stroking between her netherlips with his thumb.

“Oh!” Isobel tried to push his hand away, unsure if she liked the