Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He kissed her fingers and took her hand in his. “I would join hands with you this day, but the cleric who joins us before God and man will not be here for another three days.”
“Then promise me you will not meet with the Wolf clan until after we wed.”
“I want you safe.”
“Wed me and I will be safe. Who would dare hurt Tarr of Hellewyk’s wife?”
Tarr nodded slowly as if a thought dawned. “You are right. Whoever is responsible may think twice before attempting to harm my wife and sister-in-law.”
“It is well known that anyone who threatens your clan would suffer your wrath.”
“True, for many have seen the results of such actions.”
“Then it is agreed?” Fiona asked hopefully. “We marry first?”
His laughter released his concern if only for a moment. “In three days time, woman, you become my wife.”
They hugged and kissed and hugged some more until Fiona kicked the door shut, leaving total darkness to embrace them.
“We should finish—”
Tarr did not let her finish. His mouth settled on hers with a hunger that fueled both their appetites.
“This is not a place of secure privacy,” Tarr said between kisses.
“Then make our coupling fast, for I will not be denied you again,” Fiona said, and hoisted her skirt.
“I love your boldness.” Tarr smiled and lifted her up to brace her against the wall, his hands firmly grasping her naked backside. With a bit of fumbling, laughter, nibbles, and kisses the pair joined swiftly.
“Shhh,” Tarr warned in a whisper when her moans grew loud.
“Your fault,” she mumbled, and buried her face in his shoulder.
Her moans vibrated against his flesh and excited him all the more, so did her fingers digging into his back urging him deeper and deeper inside her until . . .
He groaned in deep silence as he climaxed minutes after her, and when he went to release her, she hugged him tightly.
“Not yet, I love the feel of you inside me.”
Her words shivered his soul. How had he gotten so lucky to fall in love with such a unique woman? He had no answer but he intended to cherish his special gift every day, and love her with all his heart.
Voices and footfalls drawing near broke them apart and had them hurrying to straighten their garments. They opened the door, not wanting to surprise anyone who should enter and saw that the women whose voices they had heard had already passed by.
They smiled, grasped hands, and strolled toward the keep. Nothing at the moment could disturb the joy they shared. They were deeply in love and nothing could take that from them.
Fiona was eager for the evening meal, not that she was hungry, though her rumbling stomach reminded otherwise. She was eager to see Tarr. The day had grown busy once it was discovered Tarr and she would wed in three days. The cook pestered her with questions of what she wished served for the wedding feast, several clanswomen offered help in stitching her wedding dress, which she had not even considered, and then there was talk of decorating the hall.
She had finally managed to escape to visit with Aliss and Anya, and was relieved when after complaining about the problem that her mother volunteered, with excitement, to handle it all.
“I just want to wed,” she had told Anya.
Anya had insisted the wedding was not only for her and Tarr, but also for the clans. It was an important event that needed proper attention.
And Fiona gladly handed full responsibility to her mother.
Anya had also surprised her with a newly stitched dress. It was dark green and made of the softest wool Fiona had ever felt. Pale yellow embroidery done in the finest stitching trimmed the low neckline and the edge of the sleeves.
She had hugged her mother and hurried off to wash up and put the dress on for supper. She had wanted Aliss to join her in the great hall, but she declined admitting she was not feeling up to the task.
After making certain her sister was all right, only tired and continuing to recover nicely from her wound, she had rushed to her bedchamber to ready herself.
She felt like a princess descending the stairs, the green dress fitting her body perfectly, curving in at her waist, falling nicely over her hips down to her feet. And the wool was so soft and warm against her skin.
Her hair had to match in elegance, so she had returned to Aliss to see what could be done. Her mother had taken charge and had swept her hair up on her head, secured with two combs. She pulled several strands loose to fall around her face and neck and claimed it a work of art when she was done.
Aliss had agreed, telling her sister she had never seen her looking so beautiful. She then teased her about the faint blush that tinged her cheeks and the brilliant sparkle in her green eyes, and what of her lips so ripe with the color of a blossoming pink rose. She was more than beautiful Aliss had insisted; she was gorgeous.