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A soft knock echoed through the small farm house. Rushing to my feet, I ran to the top of the stairwell. My dress pooled around my legs as I crouched. A sliver of light slowly widened as my mother pulled open the front door.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the man at the doorstep. Just barely visible over my mothers shoulder was his broad frame. The hardwood floors creaked beneath me as I moved closer to get a better look. If I had no say in this matter, I at least wanted to know what the man looked like.
He was handsome, canines glinting in the sunlight as he smirked. He wore a belted kilt, the deep blue tartan falling around his waist. In his clenched hand was a thick rope. The goat at his side bleated, jaw moving as it chewed on its cud. In his other hand was a satchel full of bank notes.
“The dowry,” he said, holding out the satchel. My mother took the leather pouch in her hands, gently pulling it open to peer at the bills inside. A soft hum rose from her throat. Nodding, she set the satchel aside.
“You can take the nanny to the pasture,” my mother held out a finger, pointing to the tattered fence.
Only for a moment did I catch a glimpse of those cerulean irises as they swept across the sparsely decorated parlor. His smile widened. Heat rushed to my cheeks as he waved. I stumbled to my feet, dashing into my bedroom. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took in slow breaths in a meager attempt to still my racing heart.
“Skittish thing, aren’t they?”
-
“Ow!” I hissed, bringing my gloved palms to my ribs. The corset smothering my chest dug into my skin, sending jolts of sharp pain down my stomach. Turning over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked artificial, manufactured, like a China doll. Every blemish on my skin was painted over, and a thick layer of blush was added to ‘liven me up’
I felt like nothing more than an item for purchase. At the cost of just seven hundred pounds and a goat, I was to be bought and sold to this man whom I didn’t know.
I would’ve never chosen this dress, or the tartan draped around my shoulders. I scrunched my nose at the unfamiliar pattern, shaking away the feelings within my bound chest.
This navy cloth was more than just an adornment. It was a reminder of my identity being stripped, myself being dissolved into the clan of this stranger. I wonder if the satchel of currency was worth it. The cost of my dignity seemed meager now in comparison to the rest of my life.
“Your laird is waiting.”
Sighing a pained breath, I stepped forward, fingertips toying with the laces of my corset. Without a word, my mother grabbed me by the bicep, walking beside me. Nausea pooled in my stomach as we turned into the corridor. The soft chatter of the guests seeped through the stone walls.
My hands trembled, fingers quaking as I clasped my hands together. The chapel doors were propped open. Streaks of colored light hit the tile floor. Taking in a shaky breath, the two of us turned into the chapel.
The organ whirred to life, a hymn rising out of the pipes. The antiquated mahogany pews creaked as the guests stood.
“Right foot first,” my mother whispered under her breath. Her nails dug into my skin, sure to leave behind angry red marks. I took a step forward, straightening my posture. Shoulders back, and chin up, just as my mother had told me.
Even though they wouldn’t be seen underneath my dress, I wore heeled shoes. My gate was unsteady, ankles threatening to roll under the strain.
My gaze landed on my soon-to-be husband. His tailored jacket complimented the tartan hanging from his waist. A small leather sporran was belted to the center of his kilt.
I kept my head held high, pursing my lips into a thin line as I slowly traveled up the aisle. Nearly two dozen eyes were upon me. My pulse pounded in my ears, pumping hot blood through my limbs. With a shaky step forward, I left my mothers side, rising to the altar beside my betrothed.
The man reached out, wrapping his fingers around my own. I glanced down at his hands, calloused and rugged from seasons of tending his ranch. His thumb stroked the back of my hand softly.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together these two children of god in holy matrimony.”
My ears began to ring. I could feel sweat begin to ooze from my pores as the priest began his sermon. I took in a shaky breath, my hands trembling in his grasp. He squeezed my fingers, pulling my gaze up to him. He stared down at me with his bright cerulean eyes, plush lips curling into a gentle smile.
The droning words and formalities left my mind as my gaze locked with his. Pressure left my chest, my shoulders dropping as I exhaled my anxieties.
“Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined,” the priest closed his book, looking up at the small gathering of people before the altar.
I glanced out at the audience before us. My mother narrowed her eyes, arms crossed firmly over her chest. She tapped her foot against the tile, soft clinking echoing throughout the chapel. The rows of seats behind her sat empty.
across the aisle was a more vibrant gathering of people. Sets of blue eyes landed on me, grins flashing as they watched the display before them. The party was dressed in tartans resembling that of the man before me. Clasped in their hands were bags of rice.
It was an odd display, one that lacked any sincerity. Despite the arrangement, my fiancé reached out, fingers gently turning my head.
“Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony?” The priest stated at me with wide eyes, fingers tapping the altar, “Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Swallowing down my nausea, I nodded. “I do.”
The priest gestured to the two of us, handing us a delicately braided cord, adorned with hand embroidered emblems that matched the adornments on his sporran. The man took the rope, draping the tassels over our wrists. I watched as he took one end, glancing at me. I took the other end between my fingers, joining with his own and making a loose knot.
“With this cord I thee wed, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
The room erupted in unison with cheers and applause. His calloused palm cradled my cheek. Almost instinctively, I leaned into his touch. He stepped down from the altar, tugging me forward.
Rice landed in our hair as the group before us scattered handfuls. The man looked back at me, a wide grin on his face. He nodded toward the wide mahogany doors at the end of the aisle. I gripped the layers of tulle and lace around my hips, pulling my dress over my ankles and following behind him.
He pushed the doors open. The afternoon sunlight shined down on us as we rushed down the stairs. A stallion, adorned in handcrafted leather reigns, stood before us. I watched as my husband swung a leg over the horse before reaching out to me. The cord fell from our wrists, gasping, I gathered the cord, holding it tightly in my hand.
With a soft grunt he pulled me onto the horse. Heat rushed to my face as I marveled at his sheer strength. It didn’t show through his coat jacket, but I was sure he was hiding toned muscle underneath the layers of fabric.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaning my body against his. The horse shoes clicked against the pavement as we rode off down the street. I rested my cheek against his wool coat, my gaze skimming across the rolling green hills.
“M’ ranch ‘s just o’er the hills.” He said.
Humming, I rested my chin on his shoulder, glancing at the dirt road ahead. We slowly approached a wooded area, thick canopies casting shadows on the path. He was still smiling, blue eyes fixated on the ground before us.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“John,” he said, glancing back at me over his broad shoulder. I nodded, repeating the syllable in my head. My husband John. John my betrothed. A biblical name.
I took in the way my arms effortlessly wrapped around his waist. The way my chest pressed against his back. How my cheek felt against his coat. For something as impersonal as an arraigned mairrage, it felt like two puzzle pieces slotting together.
He hummed a hymn under his breath as he tightened his grip on the reins. The horse whinnied, shaking its head as we turned down another path. I narrowed my eyes, looking at the pastures ahead.
Neatly painted fences stretched along the hillside. A heard of cows stood in the tall grass, tails wagging as they picked at the foliage below their feet. Further down the path was a small cottage, much more quaint than I’d expect from a man of his class. Sheep bleated, drawing my attention to the other pen. A lone herding dog sat beside the fence line, panting in the hot summer air.
He swung his leg back over the stallion, guiding the horse to the stables with his hand still firmly on the reign.
“C’mon, down ye go,” he gestured with his hand. I glanced at the ground beneath me, pursing my lips together. My mouth went dry, legs shaking as I attempted to dismount.
John laughed, chest heaving as the sound bellowed from his belly. My lips curled down into a frown, fists gripping my skirt tight. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling me off the horse. I yelped, grabbing at his coat as he pulled me into his chest. My feet kicked in the air, only to meet the firm earth beneath me.
“Promise I’ll ne’er be rough wit ye ‘gain after tha’” he gave my hip a soft pat before letting go of my waist. “N’less ye ask me to.”
I glanced away, hiding the blush that surely rose to my cheeks. I watched in my peripherals as he led the stallion to the stables. The silver hardware clinked as he hung the reigns up on the wall.
He brushed the dust from his hands, turning on his heel to face me again. A crooked smile spread across his face as he took in my expression. He took a step forward, his hand resting on my hip.
“Dinnae tell me yer shy.” His palm fit so perfectly on my hip, fingers toying with the tulle beneath his grasp.
“I’m sorry.”
“Dinnae ‘polagize,” he shook his head, his plump lips pouting. “C’mon. Let’s get ya inside. Yer stiff as a board.” He stepped forward, tugging me into his side.
My heart quickened as the smell of his cologne wafted over my senses. Panicked thoughts wrapped around my mind. My mothers words echoed in my head. A warning of sorts.
I gripped the thick fabric of my skirt. Nausea pooled in my stomach. Was this supposed to hurt? Consummating the marriage? If this was really my duty as a spouse, why was I to be forced into it.
His house was modest for someone of his class. Fresh crops sat on the drying rack beside the sink. The table was neatly set with plaid placemats and delicately carved silverware. My gaze drifted across the dining room, to the room just ahead. The curtains were still drawn, the only light being a small oil lamp.
He led me inside. I watched in the mirror as he stood behind me, fingers toying with the laces of my corset. I stiffened as the boning began to loosen around my chest.
I sighed when his stubble brushed against my shoulder. His lips were chapped as they pressed soft kisses against my skin. His calloused palms skated up my sides, fiddling with the hooks at the front of the garment.
“Is this okay?” He asked, pulling apart the fabric.
“Is this going to hurt?” I asked, my lip quivering. The mahogany planks beneath our feet creaked as he circled me. He reached out, gently cradling my face in his hands. I draped my own over his wrists. His heated breath wafted over my skin.
“Promise I’ won’,” his cerulean eyes dipped to my parted lips. “I’ll make ye feel s’ good.”
I let my eyelids flutter closed, taking in the rich sandalwood scent of his cologne. The warmth of his palms seemed to melt into my skin. Each breath he exhaled I drew in, soaking in the faint trace of tobacco on his breath.
“D’ye trust me?” He asked. Pursing my lips together, I nodded.
He continued undoing the latches at the front of my corset, fingers skillfully toying with the hardware. With a soft thud, the fabric fell to the floor. I drew in a deep breath, my ribs painfully expanding for the first time in hours.
“I’d never make y’ wear one of ‘em bloody things.” He huffed, fiddling with the thick ribbon around my waist. I leaned into his chest, nuzzling my face into his dress shirt as he toyed with my skirt. The layers of tulle slid down my thighs, dropping to the floor.
I felt his fingers skid across the sleeve of my chemise. Pulling back, I grasped his wrist.
“I don’t know if I can…” the words failed to fall from my tongue. His fingers gently wrapped around my wrist. I watched as he pulled my hands to his chest. My fingertips brushed against his suit jacket. Taking the lead, I pinched the fabric between my fingers and eased it over his shoulders.
I could feel his toned muscles beneath the thin dress shirt. With every little movement, they shifted beneath my touch. I dragged my fingers down his collarbones until i reached the top button of his shirt. With shaky fingers, I pulled at the fabric, only for it to slip beneath my grasp. I drew in a breath, pinching the fabric with my nails.
A deep laugh bellowed from his chest. He draped his hands over mine, skillfully undoing the buttons. I took in every inch of bare skin. My fingertips traced along the dark curls that adorned his chest.
He was left in just his kilt and his shoes. Heat rushed to my face as a deep rosy blush settled on my cheeks. He took my hand in his, stepping back toward the bed.
The mattress squeaked underneath my weight as I sat on the edge of the bed. John sank to his knees before me, staring up at me through his thick eyelashes. With a soft clink he undid the buckles of my heels, gently pulling the leather off of my feet. He pressed a kiss to my calve, slowly traveling up to my thighs.
My stomach fluttered as he reached higher and higher, kissing over my hipbones and my stomach before reaching my neck. His thick rubber soles thudded as he kicked them from his feet.
Heat pooled in my core, growing hotter and hotter as he rolled his hips against my own. I could feel something stiff poking my thigh with every rut forward. A soft noise fell from my lips involuntarily. Furrowing my brows, I pursed my lips in a vain attempt to quiet my bubbling nerves.
His fingers dipped beneath my thin chemise, lifting the fabric up over my stomach. I whined as he pushed the fabric over my chest. His pupils dilated, turning his cerulean irises into a deep navy. I lifted my arms, pulling the bunched up fabric from my shoulders.
His fingertips dipped beneath the hem of my knickers. I gripped the duvet, glancing down at his hands. He slowly tugged the fabric over my hips and down my thighs. He let the fabric fall to the floor, palms soothing over my calves.
“Spread your legs f’ me,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to my knee. Propping myself up on my elbows, I obliged, slowly spreading my legs for my newly wedded husband.
He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back a low groan. His palms skated up my inner thighs, pushing my knees even further apart. He leaned in, dragging his tongue up my core. I whined, pulling away from his face.
“John, what are you doing?” I asked, closing my legs.
“It’ll feel good, I promise,” he said, gently nudging my knees apart.
“It’s immodest,” I frowned.
“It’s what married people do, doll.” His gaze pierced through me, sparking alight my nerves. My heart pounded in my ears as he slowly leaned in once more. “Lay back f’ me,” he cooed.
His tongue licked a thick stripe up my core before curling around my clit. My eyelids fluttered closed, an unfiltered noise falling from my tongue. I reached out, carding my fingers through his curls, tugging gently at the locks.
Soft licks soon turned to messy open mouthed kisses. Saliva ran down my thighs, soaking into the duvet beneath me. He groaned against my skin, sparking jolts of pleasure up my spine.
My brows furrowed as I felt the intrusion of one of his fingers at my entrance. A dull aching ignited in my hips, growing as he pushed the digit inside of me. He sucked harshly on my clit, pulling my mind from the unfamiliar feeling of being stretched out.
I rutted my hips against his mouth as he slowly rocked his finger in and out of me. A stream of loud noises fell from my chest. Beads of sweat ran down my sternum as shallow breaths filled my lungs.
The pain of the intrusion soon melted into an even more unfamiliar sensation. My back arched off of the mattress, hips pushing against his face. He laughed, wrapping his lips around my clit. My thighs began to quiver as he sucked harshly.
I moaned as he pushed another digit inside of me. My cunt squelched around his fingers, my arousal running down his wrist. He didn’t relent for a moment, even when I squirmed underneath his touch. It was almost too much, and yet I couldn’t do anything but lay back and bask in the stimulation.
Pressure slowly built in my stomach. My muscles pulled tight, tensing further with every flick of his tongue.
“John- don’t stop, please!” I cried out, my voice breaking. Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill over. Pain sparked behind my eyes as they rolled to the back of my head. My lips parted in a slime my scream, drool spilling from the corner of my lips.
A wave of immense pressure surged through my body, pulling my limbs taut like the strings on a marionette. My toes curled, fingertips digging into the soft duvet. His name fell from my tongue, over and over, crescendoing into a scream. My cunt seized around his fingers, squeezing the digits tight.
He pulled away, blue eyes fixated on my fluttering cunt as he withdrew his sodden fingers. His face was glistening with my arousal. The mattress dipped as he kneeled on the edge of the bed. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to mine. I could taste myself on his lips, his tongue tainted with musk.
His belt fell to the floor with a clatter. Pulling away, he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly.
“Lay against the pillows, love.” He cooed. Drawing in a shaky breath, I pulled myself further up the mattress. My head met the plush pillows, the soft cotton cradling my neck. He moved to kneel between my legs, hands hooking beneath my knees.
Heat rushed to my face as he pushed my knees to my chest. I turned away, cheek pressing into the pillow beneath me.
“C’mon, look at me, doll,” he spoke softly. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingertips digging into the cushions. Gently, he grasped my chin, turning my head to face him. His lips met mine once more in a soft kiss.
I groaned against his mouth when I felt the intrusion of his cock. He slowly nudged his hips forward, sinking inside of me. I pulled away from his lips, looking down at where our bodies met. My eyelids fluttered closed as I took in the feeling of his cock, every brush against my nerve endings, and the feeling of his head nuzzling against my cervix. His lips traveled down my neck, whispering soft praises against my skin.
His hips rocked against me, starting at a slow pace. He bottomed out with every thrust, thick curls at the base of his cock meeting my own. The feeling of him inside me pushed the air from my lungs. My stomach tensed, my skin growing hotter with every bit of stimulation.
I crossed my ankles behind his back, keeping him flush against me. Groaning in my ear, he grinded his cock into me, twitching inside of me.
The dull ache of his cock stretching me out soon melded into pleasure. I felt undeniably full, nearly bursting at the seams, and yet I needed more. Soft whines fell from my tongue. My fingers raked up his back, leaving behind angry red trails of raised skin.
“You feel so good,” he grunted, pistoning his hips into me.
“Faster- faster please,” I whimpered, hooking my arms around the back of his neck. I pulled him into my chest, holding him still against my beating heart. I could feel his breath, his chest rising and falling, feel the rumble of his voice, and his fluttering heart which matched the pace of my own.
“Oh god- I love you!” He sputtered, his hips snapping against mine. Loud, rhythmic clapping filled the room.
“I love you too, John!”
His noises slowly climbed in pitch, growing louder and louder. The force of his hips against mine was enough to shake the headboard, thudding harshly against the wall. He pressed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to my neck, brows furrowing as he drew closer and closer to his climax.
I bit down on my lip, swallowing back the onslaught of sounds that threatened to spill over. I drew in a shaky breath, my back arching off of the mattress. His lips ran down my neck, leaving a trail of spit that traveled to my chest. I grasped his dark curls, pulling gently as his lips wrapped around my nipple.
“I’m so close- please, please!” I cried. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, sinking into the pillows below.
My muscles seized under his touch, my legs wrapping tightly around his waist. Static washed over my frame as my nerves pulsed. Tinnitus swelled in my ears, muffling the low groans that fell from his puffy lips. Warmth flooded my insides, spilling down my thighs.
I whined as he pulled out. The bed shifted as he moved to lay beside me. His warm palms soothed over my stomach, fingers splayed over my sticky skin. I turned to my side, tucking into the embrace of my betrothed. He hummed, combing his fingers through my tangled hair.
“D’ye mean it?” He asked. Lifting my head from his chest, I glanced up at the man before me. His deep blue eyes flicked across my face, brows knitting as he awaited my response.
“Mean what?” I brought my palm to his chest. I could feel his pounding heart beat beneath my touch. Quick, yet steady. A rhythm that could lull me to sleep.
“D’ye love me?” He pursed his lips into a thin line.
Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, pulling back to see his expression soften. He sighed, tensed muscle softening under my touch.
“Course I do,” I cooed, “my husband.”
-
“My husbands such a bore.” One of the ladies frowned, stabbing her needle through the thick cotton fabric. “He wants another child, but I’m not sure if I can bare to have intercourse again.”
Glancing up from my messy stitch work, I locked eyes with the group of women before me.
“Just have him do the thing with his tongue. Hell, my husband begs for it. Insatiable thing.” I chuckled, tying off my last stitch.
Silence fell between us. I glanced up, my amusement stopping abruptly when I was met with confused glares.
“Do yours not…do that?”