Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon [355]
“What’s terrible about it?” she said, rather huffy. “How else would I know what to do?”
Roger rubbed a hand over his face, at a loss for words. If asked an hour before, he would have stoutly claimed to be in favor of sexual equality. Under the veneer of modernity, though, there was apparently enough of the Presbyterian minister’s son left to feel that a nice young woman really ought to be an ignoramus on her wedding night.
Manfully suppressing this Victorian notion, Roger brought a hand up over the smooth white curves of hip and flank, and cupped a soft full breast.
“Not a thing,” he said. “Only,” he said, and dipped his head to touch his lips to hers, “there’s a bit more to it,” and lightly nipped her lower lip, “than ye read in books, aye?”
She moved suddenly, turning to bring all that long white heat against his bare skin, and he shuddered at the shock of it.
“Show me,” she whispered, and bit the lobe of his ear.
A rooster crowed, somewhere nearby. Brianna woke from a light doze, berating herself for sleeping. She felt disoriented, tired enough from emotion and exertion to feel light-headed, as though she were floating a foot or two off the ground. At the same time, she didn’t want to miss a moment.
Roger stirred by her side, feeling her move. He groped, put an arm around her, and rolled her over, curving himself to fit behind her, knees to knees, belly to buttocks. He brushed the tangles of her hair away from his face, making little pfft! noises that made her want to laugh.
He’d made love to her three times. She was very sore, and very happy. She’d imagined it a thousand times, and been wrong every time. There wasn’t any way to imagine the sheer terrifying immediacy of being taken like that—stretched suddenly beyond the limits of flesh, penetrated, rent, entered. Nor was there any way she could have imagined the sense of power in it.
She had expected to be helpless, the object of desire. Instead, she had held him, felt him quiver with need, all his strength leashed for fear of hurting her—hers to unleash as she would. Hers, to touch and rouse, to call to her, to command.
Nor had she ever thought such tenderness existed as when he cried out and shuddered in her arms, pressing his forehead hard against her own, trusting her with that moment when his strength turned so suddenly to helplessness.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly in her ear.
“For what?” She reached back, stroked his thigh. She could do that, now. She could touch him anywhere, delighting in the textures and tastes of his body. She couldn’t wait for the daylight, to see him naked.
“For this.” He made a small movement with his hand, encompassing the dark around them, the hard straw under them. “I should have waited. I wanted it to be … good for you.”
“It was very good for me,” she said softly. There was a shallow groove down the side of his thigh, where the muscle was indented.
He laughed, a little ruefully.
“I wanted you to have a proper wedding night. Soft bed, clean sheets … it should have been better, for your first time.”
“I’ve had soft beds and clean sheets,” she said. “But not this.” She turned in his arms, reached down and cupped him, that fascinating mass of changeability between his legs. He stiffened for a second in surprise, then relaxed, letting her handle him as she liked. “It couldn’t have been better,” she said softly, and kissed him.
He kissed her back, slow and lazy, exploring all the depths and hollows of her mouth, letting her have his. He moaned a little, far back in his throat, and reached down to take her hand away.
“Oh, God, you’re going to kill me, Bree.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, anxious. “Did I squeeze too hard? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He laughed at that.
“Not that. But give the poor thing a wee rest, hm?” With a firm hand, he turned her over again, nuzzling her shoulder.
“Roger?”
“Mm?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.”
“Aye? Well, that’s good, then.” He sounded drowsy.
“Even if—if we don’t get back, as long as we’re together, I don’t mind.”
“We’ll get back.” His hand cupped her breast, gentle as seaweed