An Invitation to Pleasure Read Online Free PDF Page B

be twined in Fergus’s arms, her bottom pressed to his thighs.
    Such a contrast to the nights. At first she could not sleep for the rustle and thump of Fergus trying to make himself comfortable. For several nights she listened to him shift about on the chair, then the floor of their chamber. Finally, telling herself she was simply being practical, she had ordered him to share the bed. ‘It is big enough to sleep an army,’ she’d said, ‘and I for one have no intentions of risking a skelf by crossing that bundling board thing. I am astonished that any courting couple do so.’
    Now, the mattress sagged when Fergus joined her, and it took her even longer to fall asleep. For some reason, she liked to listen to him breathing. She liked the solid weight of him beside her. But he made no move to cross the board, for which she told herself she should be grateful he seemed interested only in their public performance. As for her, the thrill she got from his kisses, from the brush of his hand, his thigh, the outrageous things he whispered in her ear, that was because she too was enjoying the performance. It had nothing at all to do with the man himself. Nothing.
    Lust fed on deprivation, that’s what she was feeling. Though never, not even in the first months of her marriage, had Susanna felt this tingling sense of anticipation. Even as she said her vows, she had withheld a part of herself. Jason’s expertise in the marital bed brought her no satisfaction, for it confirmed that these most intimate of caresses had been shared with any number of other women. Duty forced them to share their bodies, but there had been none of this constant urge to touch for the sake of touching. None of this wanting to know how would this feel, and this, and this.
    It was all delightful, this Highland Christmas, beguiling, like the scenery and the people and yes, like the man who was laird of it all. But it was not real, and soon it would be over. She may as well enjoy it while it lasted.
    * * *
    Day after day of passionate kisses and bodily contact were taking their toll on Fergus, as night after tortuous night he lay there beside her in bed, with only a bundling board and a nightgown between them. He feigned sleep, and he was pretty certain Susanna did too. Her breathing was too even. She lay too still.
    The night before last, he had woken near dawn to find he had worked his way over the damned board to drape an arm around her waist. Last night, it was his leg that had breached the barrier to lie over hers. He had the skelfs to prove it. She had slept through his incursion. Or pretended to.
    He had not forgotten his purpose in keeping her here, but he no longer believed in it. The more he knew of her, the more he realised that she meant it when she said she had no need of his rescue. She was witty, attractive and more importantly she seemed happy enough in her own skin. If he thought it a waste that such a woman should be so very set upon being alone, that was her business, not his. Where that left him, he had no idea, save that he was pretty certain Hogmanay was approaching far too quickly, and he was pretty sick and tired of the frustration he had to cope with as each night fell, and the day’s kisses left him like a pot of water kept continually simmering and never allowed to boil. There were times, usually towards dawn, that Fergus wished he could be just a bit more unscrupulous.
    Tonight was the feet washing. In the cottages and crofts, this was a ritual involving soap and scrubbing brushes which took place separately for the bride and groom, but in the castle the tradition had evolved somewhat. Fergus smiled to himself as he tried to picture Susanna’s reaction. His imagination moved on, to anticipating her slender feet in his hands, and once again, his blood rushed to his groin, as it seemed to do so often these days in her company.
    They dined formally in the great hall. After dinner was cleared, those of his villagers and tenants who