The Beast of Aros Castle (Highland Isles) Read online

  Did Ava want to flee? She thought of Tor’s heat, the gentle strength in his hold and the press of his lips on hers. She shook her head slightly. “No fleeing,” she whispered.

  “You have so much courage,” Grace whispered and smoothed one of the thin braids she’d woven at each of Ava’s temples. The braids met and curled around the top of Ava’s head like a crown.

  “Perfect,” Joan said, coming close. “Ye are a beautiful bride.”

  Ava gave her a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

  Grace turned to Mairi and Joan with a tight smile. “Any advice for the virgin bride? She does know the basics.”

  God’s teeth. “Both of us do,” Ava added quickly. “We saw a maid and groomsman in the barn once. That’s all.”

  “Just make sure to tell him what ye like and don’t like,” Joan said.

  “Tell him,” Ava repeated.

  “Mairi,” Joan said. “Ye’re recently wed. I think she’d feel better asking ye questions while I see to the guests.” She swooped over to kiss Ava’s cheek. “And thank ye for helping us save Aros from the English. Gus is smiling from above, I know.”

  Ava’s stomach contracted, but she managed a smile. Was Joan’s Gus glaring down at her right now, knowing that she was a worthless English servant rather than a lady of title in England? The sudden realization that she’d not only tricked Tor, but Joan and all of Aros, all the lovely villagers who had celebrated with her today, knocked the air from her. Ava wobbled.

  Grace helped her to the edge of the bed, and Ava sat on the thick fur throw at the end. Grace frowned, her head tilting to meet Joan’s gaze. “You do know that King Henry’s forces may not care that she is the daughter of the Earl of Somerset. Somerset is only a small estate in York. We…she is not from a royal family.”

  Joan waved the comment off, touched Ava’s forehead with cool fingers. “No fever. I think ye’re just nervous about the bedding.”

  Ava wet her dry lips. “What Grace said is true.” She looked earnestly up at Joan. “The English may not care one whit that I’ve married Tor.”

  Joan patted her arm. “In that case, Tor will protect us with iron and arrows like the Maclean lairds of past.” She kissed the top of Ava’s head and strode to the door. As she opened it, deep laughter rose from below. Joan glanced back in. “I think they’re bringing Tor up.”

  Mairi flapped her arms, shooing Ava to the head of the grand bed. Ava fixed the white linen down over her legs under the sheet and blanket, yanking them both up over her chest. She looked at Mairi. “Any advice?”

  Mairi paused, her lips tight. “I think ye learned enough from watching the maid. But if my brother’s been drinking heavily, he might pass out tonight.” She shrugged and pulled Grace toward the door.

  Grace looked back over her shoulder. “All will be well.”

  The sound of raucous voices beyond grew when Grace and Mairi slipped out. Ava raised the covers up to her chin, feeling her heart beneath her skin. She looked down her length, feeling even smaller in the large bed, her slender form merely a ripple in the blankets.

  Two quick raps caught her breath, and she looked at the door. The sound of voices was far off. “Yes?” she called.

  The door swung inward. Tor stood in the corridor alone. He met her gaze and nodded, walking in. With a resounding clunk, the wooden slat dropped down, locking them in. “Are ye cold?” he asked, walking to the low fire and adding more peat.

  “Uh…not right now,” she answered.

  He stood straight, the firelight outlining him with a golden glow. “Ye have the covers nearly over your head.”

  Ava forced her fingers to unclench, and the sheet and blanket slid to lay upon her chest. “I heard voices out there before. I didn’t know who would be coming in with you.”

  Tor nodded, walking closer. “Drunk fools,” he said with a grin. “I wouldn’t let them come up the stairs.”

  Ava watched him untie his formal sash that he’d worn for the wedding. A wooden chair by one of the two windows in the room squeaked as he sat on it to unlace his boots. His movements were sure and strong. He didn’t seem to be one of the drunk fools. She swallowed over her nervousness.

  He stood and loosened the shirt’s knot at his throat, lifting it off over his head, exposing his naked, broad chest. Her breath caught silently at the beautiful power displayed in the muscles of his arms and shoulders, the ripples of strength running down his chest and stomach to disappear in the loose drape of his kilt. There was absolutely nothing soft about Tor Maclean.

  He came to the bed, frowning. “Your eyes are very wide, lass. I won’t touch ye if ye’re terrified.”

  Courage. Ava closed and opened her eyes, willing her face to relax into a mask of calm. “I am not terrified,” she said, in what she hoped was a convincing tone. “I’m a virgin. This is how a virgin looks on her wedding night.” If Tor had wed Matilda because he thought she was pregnant with his child, she wasn’t a virgin on her wedding night. The thought of Tor with another woman lit a spark of anger in Ava. It gave her strength to release the blankets, letting them recede to her lap. She smoothed them and played with the ring that symbolized her commitment to Tor, to the whole Maclean family.

  Tor nodded. “Ye’re not just any virgin,” he said, his gaze taking in every part of her above the blankets. “Ye’re the bonniest one I’ve ever seen.”

  Maybe he had been drinking. Being in the bed with him standing put her at a disadvantage, and right now Ava felt like she needed a more even playing ground. Before he could take a step closer, she slid her legs out and stood, her toes curling on the cold wood planking. She moved quickly to the fire. When she turned, he gazed at her, frozen. Not even a breath came from him as he looked down her form.

  “Och, ye’re lovely lass.” He slowly shook his head, his gaze moving up to meet her eyes. “Ava.” The sound of her name, as his teeth slowly touched his bottom lip, felt like a caress. The flames at her back and the teasing sensation of her name on his sensual mouth sent a quiver through her, tightening her nipples. She could feel them strain against the light linen gown.

  He walked closer. “I can see nearly all of ye with the fire behind ye.” He rested his warm palm on her shoulder, and looked down into her eyes.

  Prickles of sensation joined with a chill from the air in the room, teasing and aching down through Ava. Her very blood raced about in a whirlwind of nervous energy and something delicious. She rested her hands flat on his chest, marveling at the warm skin and light sprinkle of hair over toned muscles. She smoothed downward to his flat, tight stomach and watched chill bumps rise on his skin to match her own, proof that he wasn’t impervious to her touch.

  “You’re so strong,” she whispered and ran her palm down his shoulder to cup his thick bicep, squeezing the hardness there.

  He slid his fingers through the loose waves of her hair. “And ye’re so soft.” He leaned forward, and Ava tipped her face to his.

  The kiss was slow. He tasted of warmth, honey mead, and a hint of mint. As he pressed against her mouth, she slanted her face, relaxing her lips. Tor drew her body against him, holding her frame loosely in his arms to give her room to pull away, but she didn’t. Ava held tightly to Tor, drawn to the temperature of his body and the feel of safety surrounding her. He’d wed her, vowed to protect her and keep her. He’d called her beautiful and soft.

  Tor murmured in Gaelic and trailed hot kisses along Ava’s cheek and neck to her ear. “Ye are so lovely,” he murmured before continuing along her jaw and returning to her neck. Ava let her head roll back, a small moan coming out on an exhale. Tor’s arms tightened, pressing her to his frame, and she felt his manhood through his kilt. The knowledge that she’d affected him fed the frenetic energy making her want to climb even closer. She ground her hips instinctively against it, feeling a pulse of pleasure at the sensitive spot between her thighs.

  A rumbling sound vibrated within Tor, like a growl, and he cupped her backside, molding the V of her pelvis against his h
ardness. The rubbing poured hot desire through Ava’s abdomen. “Och, Ava,” he murmured, running his hands up to her shoulders. He backed her up while continuing their kiss until Ava felt the slight press of the stone wall against her back.

  Ava reached to cup his backside, pulling him against that delicious spot between her legs. He rubbed, and Ava moaned into his mouth.

  Tor’s hands slid along her arms to her wrists. Without breaking the kiss, his hands encircled her wrists, widening out her arms. His pelvis pressed against her, and he lifted her arms above her head to the rough wall.

  Shadows of memory assaulted Ava, and her instincts for survival flared up within her. In a flash, her passion blew apart into an all-too-familiar panic. “No,” she cried, wrenching her mouth from his, her body twisting away. She squeezed her eyes shut as Vincent’s leering face swam before her.

  “Ava?” Tor froze, his hands opening immediately to release her wrists. “Bloody hell.”

  Ava breathed through her wet, open mouth, her face turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Ava, look at me,” Tor ordered, his voice soft but firm.

  Slowly she cracked her eyes and realized her palms were braced hard against Tor. He’d backed up, giving her space, but he bent his head to study her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Revealed. Ava felt raw from the memory. She swallowed and shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered and sought the familiar mask of serenity she always wore. “Nothing.”

  Tor searched her eyes. “That reaction was absolutely not nothing. Something scared ye.”

  Ava met his gaze. There was concern, anger, but not at her. “I…you brought up a bad memory when you raised my arms.” She realized she was rubbing at her wrist and let it go. “Grabbing my wrist. I…it’s from long ago. I’m sorry.”

  Tor looked like he wanted to press her for more information, but he just watched her instead, his brows drawn low. He reached forward and gently rubbed his thumb across her forehead as if to smooth away her worry. He looked at her hands that she’d clenched together. “May I?”

  She wasn’t sure what he was asking, but she was so grateful he wasn’t pressing her on the subject of her panic that she nodded. Tor took her hands, parting them to lay one in each of his palms. With exceedingly slow movement, he lifted one and then the other to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist where the skin lay delicate and unmarred now. The feel was feather soft and yet the effect pressed tears at the back of Ava’s eyes. She sniffed, blinking them back.

  “I am the one who is sorry, then,” he said and backed up, careful to tug her fingers and not her wrist.

  “No, I’m the one at fault,” Ava said, following him to the bed.

  He turned to her once they reached the edge. “We can talk about it?” She shook her head vehemently. “Very well, come here,” he said, drawing her into him.

  His warm body wrapped like a cloak about her, and she marveled at the feel of his skin under her hands as she explored his chest and shoulders. He kissed her again, and she ran her hands down his back, feeling the slight pucker of the scar she’d seen when he’d been in the river. “How did you get the scar on your back?”

  “An English ambush north of Oban,” he said without breaking the kiss he’d started again down her neck.

  The words registered only on the fringes of Ava’s mind as Tor’s kisses melted into her, relaxing her muscles, filling her abdomen with the same wonderful ache she’d felt at the fire. She reached up on tiptoes to mold against him like before. His hands cupped her backside, moving her hips in delicious circles, rekindling the sensations. She moaned. “Oh God, Tor.”

  His fingers brushed along the outsides of her thighs, rucking up the long linen smock. Ava lost herself in his heated kiss again, his tongue raking inside her mouth to touch her own. A blaze of passion scorched through her, narrowing her focus on Tor and the sensations he was working through her like magic.

  The linen flashed before her eyes as Tor swept the smock over her head, leaving her nude. But before she could shiver or cover herself, he threw back the covers on the bed and settled her in the middle. Ava lay amongst the pillows, her hair all around her shoulders down to her waist. Was it the ache that still teased her or the heated look in Tor’s eyes as his appreciative gaze roamed her form that kept her from moving? For she didn’t pull up the covers, letting him drink his fill.

  Her nipples stood taut in the coolness of the shadow-filled room, and her legs moved restlessly in the bed at the feel of sliding naked within the sheets. With a tug, Tor loosened his kilt, letting the woven material drop off his narrow hips. Ava’s gaze dipped to his large erection. Her breath halted at the size. How would that fit within her?

  “I…I could wait here,” she whispered. “If you need to…uh…” She wet her lips. “Take a cold swim first?” she asked.

  “What?” Tor asked although his gaze was still surveying the full view she presented.

  “So you fit,” she said. “The cold makes you…crine,” she said the Gaelic word Hamish had used.

  His gaze moved to her face. “Ye want me to take a cold bath to shrink?”

  “Hamish said your…” She indicated his enlarged penis. “Shrinks when it gets cold.”

  Tor’s face went from bewildered to angry. “Ye were discussing my penis with Hamish?”

  Ava opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. She glanced away toward the burgundy-colored curtain tied to a bedpost. “I… He…he saw me watching you swim in the river today. I didn’t see anything, but he thought I had. I suppose he didn’t want me to think you were built small, which you are not.” She punctuated “not” so hard that she heard Tor chuckle.

  “Nay, I am not.” He sat down into the sheets, and Ava slid away to give him room. He turned toward her. “But I promise I will fit.”

  He followed her slowly, leaning over her face as his hand smoothed down her bare stomach. The tickle of his touch sent a shiver through Ava. He kissed her, his rough finger circling her navel. His hand molded around her waist, sliding down to cup her hip bone. He stroked, and they kissed for long moments.

  Ava relaxed more into the bed. She lifted her hands to rest against his chest, splaying them across his muscles. A rumble started under Tor’s skin. The sound, so primitive and erotic, opened up another flood of sensation through her shifting body. Her pelvis rose when she felt his hand stroking up her inner thigh to her curls.

  Ava groaned openly into Tor’s mouth when he found the most sensitive spot there, touching, teasing, rubbing until she lifted and surged wantonly against his hand. He dipped lower, sliding along her most intimate folds that felt so hot and wet. With a slight gasp of wonder and excitement, Ava felt his finger enter her, pressing and moving in circles so exquisite she began to thrust toward it.

  “Aye, lass, give way to the pleasure.” She opened her eyes to see Tor watching her. The intensity in his gaze sent another jolt of passion through Ava. She wanted more. Sliding her hands down his waist and abdomen, Ava wrapped her hand around his length.

  He groaned loudly, his eyes shutting momentarily while she clasped and rubbed. The skin was softness over a sword of the hardest steel. “Tor,” she whispered without knowing what she wanted.

  He lowered his mouth, running wet kisses down her neck to her breast, and she gasped. His hot, wet mouth encircled her peak, making her arch up. Forgetting her hold, she reached up and caught his head to her breasts as he lavished first one and then the other. Ava was on fire.

  She writhed across the smooth sheets, grinding her pelvis upward against the rock-hard wall of Tor’s naked thigh. His tongue flicked against her nipple, his teeth tugging. She moaned and raked her nails down his back. The press of his knee between her thighs opened her legs. She continued to rub against his thigh, surrendering within the buildup of pleasure, trusting him to guide her.

  “Bloody hell, Ava,” Tor swore, his face coming up. Such strain pulled his handsome features. “I need to be in ye before ye unm
an me.”

  Connected to his gaze, Ava spread her legs wide, raising her hips up to tilt herself to him. It was all the permission he apparently needed. Tor dove down to kiss her as his body sought her tight, wet entrance. With a surge born of instinct and fed by all the passion Tor had kindled in her body, Ava pressed upward as he thrust through and into her body.

  She squeezed her eyes shut at the tearing sensation that split through her. Tor stilled, fully embedded. He breathed rapidly but didn’t move. Slowly he leaned in, kissing her mouth as if she were made of thin glass. Ava felt his kiss move over each of her eyelids, to her temple and ear. “The pain will ease. Your body will…adjust,” he said between breaths.

  Ava opened her eyes. His brows were lowered in a type of agony, and he breathed through an open mouth. He connected with her gaze. “Let me know as soon as I can move, lass.”

  A small smile broke along her lips. “You can,” she whispered.

  “Thank ye,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss her mouth. He moved his hips slowly, one hand stroking along her side, cupping her breast and lightly pinching her nipple.

  “I like that,” Ava whispered, remembering Joan’s advice.

  Tor did it again, tugging more this time. Ava arched her back, and he lowered his face to tease the peak with his tongue and teeth. Ava circled her hips upward in response, and Tor groaned against her breast, the vibration sending erotic ripples through Ava. She grasped his shoulders and curled her toes against his shins before digging her heels into the mattress. She urged him into a faster rhythm. “Tor,” she breathed as he kissed her mouth hotly. She clung to his kisses, reveling in them as he took her body higher.

  “Ava,” he answered with deep thrusts.

  “Oh yes,” she breathed back, reveling in his weight against her pelvis, anchoring her to the bed. “Oh God.” Ava raised her legs, folding them over Tor’s backside so that she clung to his body, an open well for him to plunge into. Over and over they rocked together, and Ava felt a building sensation. Like she was climbing a mountain. Her pants echoed in her ears with her thundering heartbeat. “Oh God, Tor,” she cried as she reached higher.