“Ah, sing for me, my darlin’,” he urged. “Let them hear that ye’re mine.”
His hands gripped her hips, driving into her with steady force, each stroke setting her body alight.
“Incredible,” he breathed, voice husky. “Take me, Elizabeth. Ye’re doing so well. Let go. Let go.”
The bed creaked beneath them as he quickened the pace. Pleasure surged like an earthquake inside her, spreading through every inch, overwhelming and exquisite.
Her belly tightened, breath hitched, and she felt herself teetering on the edge again.
His hand found her breast, fingers circling her nipple with expert touch as he thrust relentlessly.
She could think of nothing but sensation, nothing but the wild, delicious waves crashing through her.
Her vision blurred, and with one last fierce thrust, she spiraled into a breathtaking climax, gripping him tight as he followed, shuddering deep inside her.
The world fell away as they collapsed together, breathless and entwined.
“Ye’re amazin’, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her skin, awe ringing in his voice.
She smiled weakly, still riding the aftershocks. “So are you.”
“This,” he murmured, voice soft and sure, “is what men and women do when they’re truly alone.”
She laughed softly, the sound light and free.
“That was quite the instruction, sir,” she teased, settling against him.
He pulled her close, her head resting on his chest, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he murmured, “Rest now. We’ve the whole day ahead. The staff willnae be botherin’ a newlywed couple like us.”
“We have all day,” she echoed, heart swelling with hope and quiet wonder.
Would forever feel like this? She didn’t know. But in this moment, wrapped in his arms, she could only enjoy the present.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Will it always be like this?” Elizabeth asked softly, still nestled in the warmth of their bed as the morning light filtered through the curtains.
She never imagined it would be like this. Not with Alasdair, not with anyone. She had thought marriages of convenience were formal, distant affairs, bound by duty rather than desire.
Was this what he was doing? Was he simply trying to secure an heir, using pleasure as a means to an end?
Alasdair’s fingers traced slow circles along the leg she’d draped over his waist, his voice low and teasing. “I certainly hope so. What do ye think, my duchess?”
Elizabeth’s heart fluttered. “Well, it’s… ideal, I suppose. But…what about your responsibilities? Your meetings with the lords you’re trying to win over?”
A familiar flicker of panic rose in her chest, the old Elizabeth, cautious and uncertain, resurfacing for a moment.
“Calm yourself, Elizabeth,” he chuckled softly. “I reckon those lords would be far more displeased if I dinnae take care to pleasure my wife during her first days of wedded bliss.”
“Wedded bliss?” she echoed, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
He smiled down at her, eyes warm and mischievous. “Aye, I imagine that’s exactly where we are now, Duchess.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me the truth about the lords expecting you to please your wife? That… doesn’t sound?—”
“Plausible?” Alasdair interrupted with a smirk. “Ye’re right. Those men care little for such things. But if it means they believe this marriage is real, then perhaps it’s worth a little delay before I return to their company.”
Elizabeth’s voice sharpened as she pushed herself up, sitting upright despite the blanket pooling loosely at her waist. “Is this all part of a farce, Alasdair?”