She swept a hand over his damp brow and then thrust her fingers into his hair as she pulled him down into a deep kiss.

“Finish it,” she whispered.

He carefully withdrew and her eyes widened at the myriad of sensations that bombarded her. She was tender, aye, and the discomfort was there, but there was also an incredible burn that had nothing to do with pain.

“Easy now,” he murmured. “Give it time, lass. You’ll feel pleasure.”

He pushed forward again, slowly and with such tenderness that she sighed. He seemed so determined that the experience be as pleasant as possible for her.

His fingers found her nipple and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the peak until it stiffened and became erect. Then he caressed the other until both breasts were achingly tight.

He smiled down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You grow wet around me. The breasts you try so hard to hide bring you much pleasure. And me. They are beautiful like you and a credit to your womanhood. They are soft, as a woman should be, and pleasing to look upon. There is naught I can find fault with you, lass. God fashioned you a perfect woman. I am a lucky man, indeed.”

Oh but she planned to remind him of his honeyed words the next time he turned his scowl of disapproval on her. And she’d remember each and every one of his endearments. She’d hold them close to her heart and pretend that she was his cherished love and not a bride thrust upon him for the sake of loyalty and honor.

Keeley had warned her that a man would say a lot when his cock was involved. Things he didn’t necessarily mean. Now Rionna understood what Keeley had meant.

He withdrew and thrust again, this time with much more ease. He was right. She had grown damp the moment he fondled her breasts. For so long they’d been such a source of irritation but now she was discovering that they had their uses after all.

For the first time she embraced the idea that somehow she was feminine. Beautiful even. She didn’t despair of appearing softer and not as fierce. It felt good to be a woman in a strong warrior’s arms. Aye, it felt good indeed.

“Do I hurt you still?” he asked.

She raised her mouth to his. “Nay, warrior. You feel very, very good.”

“As do you, wife.”

He slid his hands underneath her buttocks and cupped her, spreading her wider and holding her closer to him. He thrust, burying himself deeper than before.

Gone was the tender warrior who’d strove not to cause her any pain. Now that he was assured of her comfort, he began planting himself inside her as if he were proving his possession, his right to possess her.