A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (37 page)

“
D-do?
”
Muira hiccupped.

“
Aye,
”
Lachlan murmured.  He stroked his wife
’
s cheek with the back of his hand. 
“
I need to thank you for that pretty tale you span at supper too,
”
he said, his voice free of any particular betrayals.  Whatever he had felt about hearing Muira profess that she love him, now was not the time to begin examining his feelings. 
“
I told you that I would take care of it,
”
he did add with a slight sigh.

“
You
’
ve taken care of s-so much though, Lachlan,
”
Muira whimpered, clinging to him a little.

Lachlan frowned anxiously at her unhappy state.  He untangled their limbs and left her on the bed for a moment, ringing for Liane, who, when she came, was sent away again to fetch her mistress a bowl of broth.

“
You
’
ll feel better when you have something inside you,
”
Lachlan assured her, walking back to the bed and sitting down beside his wife. 
Or someone,
he added silently.  His body had yet to recover from his earlier round of teasing torture, but Muira hardly looked like she would appreciate his advances at present.

Liane returned quickly with the humble little meal, asking, in her jolly little manner of asking anything, if her mistress would be needing any further help that evening getting ready for bed.  Lachlan took the food tray, assured the maid that he was more than able to get his wife ready for bed, and then dismissed the young girl.

“
Here, now eat this and you
’
ll feel a good deal better I
’
m sure,
”
Lachlan said warmly, carrying the broth over to where Muira was sitting on the bed, dabbing at her eyes. 

She took the bowl with a tiny murmured
‘
thank you
’
, and then began to eat.  She took little sips, as if to merely appease him at first, but Lachlan was relieved to see that Muira eventually gave in to her hunger.  By the time she had finished she already looked a little better.

“
Well then, lass, what else can we do to set you to rights?
”
Lachlan asked, tidying the tray away to a corner of the room.

“
Oh- I was just being silly,
”
Muira whispered softly. 
“
I
’
m sure you
’
re right, it was just hunger and tiredness catching up with me.
”
  She shot her husband a weak little smile that did nothing to lessen his frown.  Lachlan did not believe that was the whole story for a moment.

“
Muira,
”
he breathed gently, sitting back down beside her and taking up one of her hands in his own. 
“
I
’
m sorry,
”
he continued quietly, causing his wife
’
s eyes to widen. 
“
If I have been thoughtless today, I know-
”

“
You haven
’
t been!
”
Muira interrupted, and Lachlan frowned still further, because the assurance was spoken a little too quickly to be genuine.

“
I know it must have been difficult, and I know that I
’
ve been preoccupied with troubles of my own,
”
he added.

“
Troubles of my making,
”
Muira said bitterly.  She turned her head away from him, and Lachlan suddenly thought he knew the problem.

“
Muira,
”
he breathed,
“
you know I don
’
t blame you for anything Graem said this evening, don
’
t you?
”

Muira turned back to him, an expression of sadness and disbelief on her face. 
“
Well you should,
”
she muttered miserably.

“
Muira, pet,
”
Lachlan breathed tenderly, placing a large hand on either side of her face as he forced her to look up at him. 
“
That
’
s enough talk like that, lass,
”
he said, gently but very firmly.

“
But-
”

“
Shh,
”
he murmured softly, lowering his lips until they very lightly brushed against hers. 
“
We can think on it all in the morning,
”
he conceded reluctantly. 
“
Things will look clearer then,
”
he added, but didn
’
t give his wife a chance to respond.  Instead, he dipped his mouth back down until he could again claim her rosy lips.

Lachlan slowly increased the pressure of his mouth, not wanting to overplay his hand, not certain that Muira would be willing to welcome him into her bed tonight- his bed-
their
bed.  He was encouraged, however, when his wife lifted a tentative hand to his shoulder, gently strumming her fingers against the hard muscle that lay beneath his shirt.

“
What do you want, Muira?
”
Lachlan sighed thickly, needing to know before he let himself go.  He
’
d already had to restrain himself once that evening, and he wasn
’
t sure if it could do it again if things between them got out of hand.

She blinked at him, a blush staining her cheeks.  Lachlan waited to hear her answer, but instead of speaking it, Muira showed him what she wanted.  She leant into his body, wrapping her arms around her husband
’
s neck as she moved to kiss him.

It was light, and teasing, just a flutter of friction, and then a hot, wet little flick of her tongue against his lips.  Lachlan parted his mouth only too willingly, eager to encourage any move that his wife wanted to make.  He submitted to her explorations, revelling in the feel of her tongue moving inside his mouth, at first moving timidly, but quickly becoming emboldened.

“
I want everything,
”
she confessed eventually, apparently throwing off her hesitation, and the remnants of her black humour.

“
Everything?
”
Lachlan chuckled, moving his hands through her hair, burying his fingers in the thick auburn locks as he gently tugged the curls free from their pins. 
“
That sounds promising,
”
he whispered, laying his open mouth against Muira
’
s throat, kissing heavily and intensity, while his fingers fumbled with the buttons running down the back of her yellow and green embroidered silk gown.

Muira mewed helplessly, raking her nails down his back, pulling at his shirt until she was able to slip her hands beneath the fabric and touch him skin to skin.

“
I just need you close,
”
she panted, gasping as her husband nipped at her earlobe.  He almost wondered if she
’
d meant to speak the words aloud
…

“
I
’
ll be close,
”
Lachlan grunted, tugged Muria off the bed so that he could more easily undress her. 
“
I
’
ll be inside you,
”
he rasped, a surge of satisfaction sweeping though his body at the answering shudder that Muira gave.

“
Soon?
”
she whimpered, rocking against him, which drew a low groan from Lachlan
’
s lips. 
“
I
’
ve needed you all evening,
”
she admitted wantonly. 
“
Ever since-
”

“
Your bath?
”
Lachlan chuckled wickedly. 
“
Have you been wet and aching for me for all that time, lass?
”
he asked, his gut tightened at the thought of her, sitting though dinner, yearning for him to fuck her. 
“
Let me help you with that then,
”
he purred, finally pealing her dress away.

It fell in a puddle of green and yellow silk around Muira
’
s feet, leaving her in nothing more than her undergarments.  Lachlan
’
s eyes travelled greedily over the flimsy chemise and the corset that was doing its best to reign in his wife
’
s ample bosom.  He reached out to sweep his hands possessively over the rigid whalebone construct before moving behind his wife to loosen its laces.

“
I hate this contraption,
”
he panted, pushing Muira
’
s hair aside and then trailing his lips all over her shoulders, before going to work on the corset.