Rocky Mountain Wild (Rocky Mountain Bride Series Book 6) Page 10

  It took Phoebe a few tries to find her voice. “For me?”

  “Yes. I knew as soon as I opened the door this morning and saw Calum standing there, it was going to be a special day. Of course, if I had known about the wedding sooner, I would’ve brought a finer gift.” The blonde laughed and presented the blue bouquet.

  “These are beautiful, ma’am, thank you.” Phoebe buried her face in the blooms to hide her nervousness.

  “Call me Esther.” The woman’s green eyes sparkled. “I know we haven’t met, but I’m so glad you came to Royal. Mrs. Martin has mentioned how much she likes you. And it’s been obvious how enchanted Calum’s been these past few weeks.” Esther clapped her hands, and Phoebe jumped at the sound. Her head was spinning at the blonde’s dizzying speech. “Seeing the two of you… I’m just so happy for you both!”

  “Perhaps we could let the couple get a word in edgewise.” Johnathan put his arm around his wife, as if to steady her.

  She leaned into him, face shining as she looked up at him. “I’m excited.”

  “I know you are.” Her husband smiled down at her.

  Phoebe’s heart sank. Here was a beautiful couple, happy with one another. Esther was so lovely, a man would have a reason to marry her.

  Calum opened the door and Wolfie bounded in. The big dog ran up to Esther and the reverend, sniffing and rubbing his wet fur against their clothes.

  “Wolfie! You great awful beast, what are you doing?” Calum reached for the wolf dog but the animal was too quick. Phoebe knelt and held out her arms, and Wolfie went right to her.

  She hung onto him, breathing in his wet, doggy scent and finding comfort in his animal exuberance.

  He licked her face before Calum dragged him off.

  “Perhaps we can do the ceremony on the porch, where he can be a part of it,” the reverend suggested.

  “Phoebe.” Calum extended his hand.

  It was now or never. Pushing aside her fear, Phoebe went and took it.

  As they walked out on the porch, she leaned on his hand, hoping her limp wasn’t so noticeable.

  The reverend was staring at her foot.

  “Mr. Shepherd.” Esther nudged her husband.

  Snapping out of it, the man continued with the ceremony. Phoebe and Calum spoke the vows, Esther stood at the side with a big smile, and Wolfie sat on his haunches beside them. When it was over, Esther threw a shower of flower petals over everyone.

  And just like that, Phoebe was married. Her thoughts still whirled as Mr. MacDonnell leaned down and kissed her lips while Esther cheered. Phoebe’s mouth tingled where Calum’s had touched it, and she missed most of the conversation of the following minutes. Her new husband kept his hand tight around hers.

  Calum nudged her. She blinked at him, then realized the reverend had addressed her.

  “Mrs. MacDonnell,” the reverend repeated, smiling. “I was wondering if I could trouble you a moment to examine your foot.”

  The blood drained out of Phoebe’s face. If she hadn’t been tucked into her new husband’s side, she would’ve fled.

  “My foot?”

  Glancing down, Phoebe realized with horror that she was still wearing her bedroom slippers. In her rush to dress, she’d forgotten to put on her thick boots.

  “Yes, I noticed a slight limp, and thought it might be giving you some trouble. I’m a medical doctor by training, and when I first came to see you during the illness, I noticed a slight abnormality in the bones of your foot. I sent for the latest research and techniques on correcting the protuberance.”

  Phoebe couldn’t speak. Was this a cruel trick to embarrass her? Her foot was cursed, twisted from birth. Nothing could be done. Had Calum told them about her limp—or Mrs. Martin? Were people talking about Mr. MacDonnell’s poor crippled maid, and pitying her?

  “I think that what my husband is trying to say, is that he’s seen your foot, and he thinks he’s able to help,” Esther said. “Perhaps you might be willing to let him look at your foot more thoroughly, one day when you’re ready.”

  “Yes and—” Johnathan started, and Esther poked him.

  “Later, dear.”

  “But—”

  “Let Phoebe and her new husband have their special day. There will be another time.” This time Esther calmed her husband, pulling him aside and whispering to him while her elegant fingers straightened his collar.

  “You all right, lass?” Calum murmured.

  Phoebe nodded and leaned on him. She felt relieved the doctor wasn’t going to strip off her slipper and stocking and examine her right then and there.

  The reverend doctor cleared his throat. “My wife reminds me of our next errand. We need to be going. I’m sure you are eager to spend the day together as well.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Phoebe. Come visit anytime,” Esther said as the two men shook hands. “Perhaps you could come show me how to do the fine stitches Mrs. Martin loves so much.”

  “I’d like that,” Phoebe said.

  She and her new husband stood on the porch, waving the Shepherds away. Phoebe felt a mixture of relief and dread. When Calum’s hand fell on her shoulder, she turned to face him, moving in a daze.

  Was this a dream?

  The big man cupped her head in both hands, grey eyes holding her blue ones. “Mrs. MacDonnell,” he said finally, with satisfaction. “My wee Phoebe.” She closed her eyes as his head descended, but he only kissed her forehead.

  “Chores first. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” With a final squeeze, he left her.

  Watching his big form stride away, Phoebe felt a mix of excitement and sorrow.

  She’d only meant to carve out a little life for herself. Now she was married to a big Scott and living in his giant lodge, with a wolf dog.

  It was a happy dream, but she steeled herself, knowing it would not last.

  *

  She moved about the cabin in a fog.

  Charity case. That had to be it. He’d married her because he was a kind man and he took pity on her. It was a bitter thought, but it must be the reality. Why else would he tie himself to her?

  Her head dropped, and then she realized she was still wearing her bedroom slippers. In her haste to get dressed, she’d forgotten to take them off.

  The Shepherds had seen her incomplete toilet; they were probably talking and laughing about it now. Soon word would spread that Calum MacDonnell had married an incompetent cripple…

  Fighting the urge to bury her face in her hands, she stood paralyzed in the middle of the cabin, ashamed.

  That was how her new husband found her when he returned, much, much too early to have completed any chores.

  He was still humming a tune in a raspy, off-key lilt.

  “Calum,” she rasped, speaking around the great lump in her throat.

  He strode towards her, with not quite a grin, but some intense joy lighting his face. His grey eyes danced.

  She couldn’t bear to even look at him.

  “Yes, my bride?” His burr sounded more pronounced with the unmistakable pride in his voice.

  Her gaze slipped down, and again caught sight of the slippers. How could he want her?

  “I—” She put her back to him, fingering her hair. Esther’s flowers were still there and she pulled them out, thinking they must look wilted and ridiculous. But no, they looked fine. She laid them on the table wondering if she could press them and keep them, a reminder of this awful day, that was still the best day of her life.

  “Phoebe,” Calum called. He was wearing new moccasins, along with his finest clothes. He was so handsome it made her heart hurt.

  “I know you married me for the purposes of charity,” Phoebe blurted before she lost her nerve. “I want to say that I’ll work hard to be a good wife to you.”

  His head cocked to the side, intelligence working behind his grey eyes.

  “Wolfie, out.” The beast stood with a sigh and trotted onto the porch.

  “Calum, did you hear me?”

/>   “Aye. I heard, but I didn’t understand.”

  “You can’t possibly want me.”

  “Phoebe, look at me.”

  She started to turn, and he was right behind her, crowding into her space, pulling her close. His finger came under her chin and lifted it as his mouth descended.

  Her whole world was Calum, his insistent lips, his bristling beard scratching her face. When the kiss was done, she rocked back, still in his arms, breathless.

  “Phoebe, you’re the most beautiful lass I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not to mention sweet and kind. And it’s a good thing, because some of the things you say make no sense.”

  “But—” she started, and his mouth locked onto hers again, swallowing the sound. He kissed her like she was the only thing in the world, shoulders hunched as he bent close to her, his big hands light on her face, guiding her, he kissed her deeply and then he pulled back and kissed her sweetly, laying little pecks on her lips until she leaned forward for more.

  He broke away, fingers stirring her hair, and smiled down at her. She recognized his intense, happy look, and with a jolt realized what it was. He was admiring her and savoring the sight.

  And for a moment, everything was beautiful.

  “Bedroom?” he asked, and reality descended. Her eyes darted to the dark inner room, the massive pallet piled high with furs.

  “I don’t know—” she started, and again he interrupted her with a kiss.

  When it was done, she swayed a little.

  “Not the bedroom then,” he stated firmly, and picked her up in his strong arms.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Explaining why I married you.” He carried her to the table and set her on it. “Here,” he said with satisfaction, leaning over her only slightly, as now her head was closer to his height.

  His hand brushed away her hair and his mouth came down again, finding her neck, kissing and sucking her tender skin until she thought she might go mad. His lips fastened on her tender skin and he sucked hard, and suddenly she felt like she would explode with desire.

  “But you’re not talking,” she gasped.

  “You’re not listening.” He undid the first few buttons of her dress with nimble fingers and tugged down her corset. He kissed down her chest, spending some time nuzzling at the peak of her breasts, drawing out her nipples, until she writhed against him, pressing herself to him, by the time he raised his head, her breasts were twin peaks of need.

  “This is in the way,” he growled, pulling on her dress and corset. “No matter. I can breach your defenses another way.”

  “Calum,” she half laughed, half cried, as he pushed up her skirts, rough hands catching on her skin. “I don’t understand.”

  In one movement, he knelt and pulled her bottom to the edge of the table. She fell back to her elbows, staring down at her new husband’s head between her legs.

  “My wee Phoebe,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “After this, you will.” And he buried his head under her skirts before she could protest.

  After a few seconds of struggle, Phoebe forgot her complaint. She forgot everything, except the feel of Calum’s mouth, hot and wet on her center, his beard scratching her lightly, his tongue alternately sweeping and probing her most secret places.

  The moans came from her unbidden, sensation curling through her, her hands gripped the edge of the table, her body straining towards something his tongue offered.

  “Calum,” she groaned, asking for something, she didn’t even know what. Her legs started shaking, and a flush came over her, moving from her center over her entire body, until her whole body stiffened, and pleasure burst through her, stars exploding behind her eyes. She sagged backward, her head bumping the table with a loud noise, but no pain. Her limbs were limp, body sated and felt like it would be sated forever.

  Her husband appeared from under her skirts, cheeks flushed, looking triumphant.

  Her head lolled a little on the table. He wiped his mouth and chuckled.

  Stooping, he lifted her, and carried her across the threshold to their bedroom, where he explained why he married her all over again.

  *

  Hours later, Phoebe lay languid and sated. She’d sung out, she’d seen stars, she nearly ripped locks of Calum’s hair out by the roots. He’d stripped her and run his hands all over her, following with scratchy kisses and sweet tongue. In the dim bedroom, swathed in silky furs, she shook apart over and over again, but her favorite was when her new husband took a break to curl his large body around hers. He whispered sweet things and played with her hair while she recovered. Then his hands would start sliding up and down her back and sides, coming to cup and tease her breasts, and the cycle would begin all over again.

  Finally, she pulled him close, twining her arms around his neck and holding him close. His hands slid down her back and cupped her bottom, his two big hands covering the pale globes.

  “Feel good, wee one?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “That felt wonderful.”

  “Good. I’ve decided you need more pleasure. As your husband, it is my duty to ye, to keep you sweet.”

  “I am sweet.” She stretched her neck and rubbed her forehead against his beard. “I’m your sweet Phoebe.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  He feathered his lips over her face. She closed her eyes and submitted to the tiny kisses, giggling when his bristles tickled her.

  He pulled his head away and grinned at her. “Do you like my kisses, Phoebe?”

  “Yes,” she whispered shyly.

  “Good.” He wrapped large muscled arms around her. “I intend to give ye thousands. And get some in return.”

  Wriggling around to face him, she pressed her lips against his. Slanting his head, he deepened the kiss, then broke it to rub his thumb against her lips.

  “The day you kissed me, I thought I was breaking through. It took longer than I liked, but I knew my Phoebe would fly again.”

  He clasped her again to his chest.

  Slowly, Phoebe felt herself come down. Her body pressed against his was still needy. Her own fingers longed to explore. He was a big man, but well proportioned, the long muscles well formed from his labor. The sandy patch of hair on his great chest was softer than she’d expected, it tickled her bare body, reminding her she was naked with someone in bed for the first time in her life. Well, almost naked. He had stripped of his shirt but not his buckskin trousers. They were soft and new, made of the finest leather, but she found herself curious about what lay beneath them. Wiggling a little, she felt the front of his pants grow taut. From everything she’d heard about the ways between married couples, there was a thing between a man’s legs, and when it swelled, a man wanted nothing more than to rut inside a woman for a few minutes and then fall asleep. That’s usually why they chased after women and tried to get them into bed. Her new husband had taken a very different course, kissing her and putting his mouth on her, then cuddling her before doing it all over again. As welcome as it was, it was unexpected, and Phoebe wasn’t quite sure what to do.

  “Calum?”

  “Yes?”

  “Aren’t you going to,” she squirmed. “Put your… thing in me?”

  He shifted, his lips finding her ear. “At some point. Soon.” Her whole body focused on his, heavy and needy against hers, but he only adjusted his arms around her, giving her a squeeze. “Is this not nice?”

  “It is nice,” she sighed. Of their own volition, her fingers snuck slowly down the hard plane of his stomach. He didn’t move, and his soft breath stirring her hair gave her courage. Slowly, her fingers ventured beyond the lip of his trousers, sliding between the leather and his warm skin. Calum sucked in a breath, and she grew bold, exploring the wiry bristle of hair between his legs. One searching finger found his warm member; it jerked a little as she touched it. Twitching her finger, she stroked its silky hardness.

  In the dim light, she met her husband’s smoldering gaze. Without speaking, he reached down a
nd undid his breeches, opening them enough so she could ease her hand inside and close the rest of her fingers around his thick member.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Whatever you want,” he said in a strained voice. “It’s up to you.” She could tell he was holding himself back, body tense against hers.

  “I want to make you feel good.” Her body, recipient of so much pleasure, wanted to share it with him.

  “Kiss me then, Phoebe. Touch me. Be gentle.”

  Closing her eyes she bent her head and let her lips go where they wanted, brushing over the skin of his collar bone, one hand smoothing over the planes and grooves of his muscles, while her other encircled his throbbing cock.

  “Does that feel good?”

  “Aye.” He moved his hips, grinding against her. “Do you want my cock?”

  She should be afraid, but she wasn’t. “Yes.”

  He dipped his head, groaning into her hair. “I want to go slowly with you, and savor it. But I fear when I have you beneath me, I will not be able to keep control.”

  Meeting his grey eyes, she understood. He wanted her to feel safe with him, totally loved. “It’s all right.” She kissed him as he had her, with small, pecking touches of her lips on his face, wordlessly begging for him.

  “Oh, Phoebe, I cannae say no to you.”

  He pulled her into place under him, she lay on her back looking up at his great form. It was a position she’d been in most of the day, as he licked and sucked the junction between her legs. Now she smiled as he stripped off his trousers and freed himself. His member bounced, drawing her eye. It was long and strange looking, but he came at her, stroking it, a wild look on his face and she felt her body respond, clenching with excitement.

  “It’s so big.”

  “It’ll fit all inside you, but be tight.” His finger dipped into the cream of her center and slicked his member with it. He leaned over her, and she reached for his shoulders to pull him down over her, but he resisted. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His face was lined with strain.

  At that moment, more than anything, she needed his weight on top of her, muscles straining against hers, his hair brushing over her supple skin, stimulating, claiming, rising with her to another level of pleasure.