At Dunglais, Malcolm Scott continued to pursue Alix. And Alix was finding it more difficult to resist him. Her experience with the Wattesons had left her wary of men. She had felt nothing for her husband, for she had not really known him. She had liked her father-in-law's company as a friend until he had attempted to debauch her, and then she had felt revulsion.
She was not naive enough to believe all marriages were like her parents'. Alix knew better from her childhood at court. But did that elusive something called love really exist? Could she find it? Or was what she was suddenly feeling for Malcolm Scott the more common and forbidden emotion that was known as lust? Why did her first sight of him at the beginning of a day make her heart race? Why did the touch of his lips on hers, or his hand in hers, render her weak with longing. Longing for what?
Since the early spring the laird had found himself courting Alix. He fully intended to seduce her into his bed, but for some reason he could not explain, he did not want to rush her. When the moment came, he wanted her to desire it as deeply as he did. They rode out daily, with little Fiona accompanying them on her pony. In high summer they took bread and cheese with them, picnicking on the heathered hillsides. One afternoon as the child lay sleeping on a blanket, her companions found themselves lying together nearby.
Alix was only slightly startled when Malcolm Scott loomed over her. She smiled up at him. "The sky is so blue today," she said. "I do not think I have ever seen so blue a sky even in England."
"I want you," he said softly, and he bent to brush her lips with his.
"I know," she responded as softly. "I have no experience with a lover, but I would be a total fool not to realize, to sense, how you feel, my lord."
"Then why…" he began.
"I am afraid," Alix answered him simply.
"Of what?" he asked, surprised.
"I did not like coupling with my husband. What if I do not like it with you? Worse, what if you find me displeasing? Do we-can we-go back to the way things were, my lord?" Alix wanted to know. "I think not. And then I must leave Dunglais and my sweet Fiona. I do not know if I am brave enough to take this chance you are asking me to take, my lord." She reached up and touched his face with delicate fingers. "And yet…"
"I cannot imagine you would not please me, and I swear I will please you," the laird said. Then he bent, kissing her deeply, the tip of his tongue stroking her lips, encouraging them to part, and when they did his tongue plunged into her mouth, found hers and caressed it ardently.
In the few weeks during which they had been exchanging chaste kisses he had never invaded her person as he was now doing. Yet it was exciting, and Alix arched against him, her own tongue stroking his and heat suffusing her body. She reached up to wind her fingers into his thick black hair, kneading his scalp with a need that surprised her greatly. She protested softly as he raised his head from her, but he put a single finger over her lips to silence her.
"Hush, lambkin," he told her. "Let me have my way now, and I promise you that you will not regret it."
"Fiona," Alix said.
"I will do nothing that will awaken my daughter," he promised. Smiling into her hazel-green eyes, he slowly undid the little horn buttons on the doeskin jerkin he and Fiona had given Alix on her birthday in April. Then he unlaced her shirt while she watched him nervously. Pushing the fabric aside, he gazed down for the first time upon her naked breasts. "God's foot," he murmured. "You are perfect, lambkin. Absolutely perfect!"
Alix blushed, suddenly shy, for no man had ever before looked upon her breasts, and his compliment surprised her.
The laird continued to stare for a long moment at the two sweetly rounded breasts that reminded him of two ripe peaches. Her nipples were small, the color of dusky rosebuds. They puckered beneath his ardent look. He brushed the fingers of one hand around the curve of the firm globe, tracing its delicate shape. She trembled beneath his touch. "Don't be afraid, lambkin," he said softly. "I am not like him. I will never hurt you. I want to make love to you the way a woman should be loved. Tenderly, and with unrestrained passion. You must never fear me, or fear my passion." He bent his dark head again and kissed her nipple. Then he began to lick it, slowly encircling it with the tip of his warm tongue.
Alix gasped softly with surprise. The only time Hayle Watteson had touched her breasts was to squeeze them hard and mock their delicate size. Maida had big breasts where a man could pillow his head, he always told her. Hayle had never touched her gently as Malcolm Scott was doing. She gasped again. And he had certainly never fondled her breast and sucked hungrily upon it as the laird was now doing. A little cry escaped her. "Oh! Oh!"
He looked up and into her face now. "Do I please you, or distress you, lambkin?" he asked her quietly.
"I never knew…" she began, and then, "Yes, my lord. You please me muchly."
He lowered his head and began to pay court to her other breast while she sighed with her obvious pleasure at his renewed devotion. Her scent-or was it the heather about them?-filled his nostrils, making him almost giddy with his rising desire. He felt his cock growing harder and harder in his breeks. But he knew this was not the time. Not with his daughter sleeping so innocently but a few yards away from where he lay with Alix. Finally he forced himself to raise his head from her breasts. He laced her shirt back up.
"We can go no further here with Fiona nearby us. But make no mistake about it, Alix Givet. I want you in my bed. I have never taken a mistress, but I think you would have me, lambkin, as I would have you."
"But what if I should disappoint you in the coupling, my lord?" she asked him once again. "The man to whom I was wed put me on my back that first night and thrust himself into me so cruelly that he hurt me. I could not see his face in the pitch black of the room. And after that whenever he came he would make me kneel upon my bed, for he said I was no better than a bitch hound and should be fucked as a bitch is fucked. I quickly came to dislike the act, my lord. What pleasure is to be had in it?"
Malcolm Scott felt himself filled with anger as he listened to her. How could a man brutalize a woman so cruelly? "I will show you the pleasure in the coupling, Alix. And you will give me pleasure with your fair body as I will give you pleasure when we are joined as one. You will never displease me, lambkin. I can only hope I will not disappoint you." He brushed her mouth with his.
She nodded. "I will trust you, my lord, but remember I want no husband who will have dominion over me. I will be your mistress, but I do so of my own free will, not because you force me to it." She sat up and began to rebutton her jerkin.
"And I want no wife, although I ask one thing of you, lambkin. Never deceive me with another man. If the time comes that you want someone else you have but to tell me and I will let you go, but do not betray me, Alix Givet."
"I will not ever mislead you, my lord," she responded. "I swear it!" He was thinking of his wife, Alix thought. "But you must make me the same vow. If you decide you wish to have another for your mistress, or a wife, you will tell me in order that I not be shamed."
"If that day should ever come I will indeed inform you, and I will provide for you as well, lambkin. I know my responsibilities."
"I ask nothing of you but courtesy," Alix quickly said. "My father left me provided for, and I have the wherewithal to make my own way if I must, my lord. I am no whore to be cast off and paid for services rendered you other than my compensation for educating your daughter." There was a proud tilt to her little chin.
"It is not a matter we are faced with, so why should we argue over it?" he replied. Her stubborn pride pleased him well. Robena had wanted everything of him.