Ella
The first two days of travel were less than ideal. I opted to ride in the carriage for our departure as I was sore and physically drained after Alasdair came to me and coerced me into saying and doing things I had never before contemplated, let alone acted upon. I try to ignore the shame that Alasdair said has no place in our marriage, but the young woman I used to be is still there, holding onto all she has ever known. She was unconventional in many ways, though very few people knew that; however, I know for certain she did not have the intense desires she has now. They have only come to life since I met Alasdair.
My mind is constantly filled with thoughts of how he and I come together as husband and wife. How he kisses me, touches me, how he likes toteaseme—as he says—and how he likes to…oh dear God, I can’t believe he said that to me. That,Isaid that to him! The thought escapes again through the clatter of the carriage and the steady rhythm of horses trotting on wet pebbles and mud.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, the cool, damp air stinging the inside my nose, and pull the wool blanket Alasdair gave me tighter around my shoulders. Once again, my self-reprimanding leads me back to the truth, and I am forced to acknowledge the sensations that run through my body when I think about his ungentlemanly approach to our coupling. The heat that flushes my skin, the hardening of my nipples, the sensual contractions between my legs. I even want to take his shaft in my hand, stroke its hardness, bring it to my mouth again.Stop it, Ella.
Just as I sit forward to stretch my back and move my legs and do anything other than constantly think about my husband’s manhood, the sun breaks through the clouds in a blinding glow through the carriage window. I pray it will last and that I can finally get out of this container.
Alasdair said it was best for us to push through the inclement weather that has persisted since shortly after our journey began, allowing his men and the horses to rest only when necessary. He has joined me in the carriage on several occasions, but he prefers to ride Magni so that he can patrol the surrounding areas through our progression. He said he trusts all the men in our travel party, but when it comes to protecting me, he trusts himself the most. Of course, when he said it, looking me straight in the eye, sincerity attached to every word, I felt the same emotion swirl through my chest that scared me the day after we wed. I felt it again when he rode Magni next to the carriage and caught my attention through the window. He stared at me with a hard intensity, then the corner of his mouth turned up, and he offered a flirtatious wink that made my stomach flip with girlish excitement. I bit my lip to hold on to the smile his charm coaxed free, still feeling the need to appear unaffected by the long list of reasons I should adore him.
As the carriage slows down, I see the sky has become a cloudless blue, and a burst of excitement runs through me. Coming to a complete stop, Alasdair dismounts Magni and walks toward me. He is disheveled, hair falling free from its tie, face darkened with thick stubble, his clothing wrinkled and wet. Living somewhat of a sheltered life, I haven’t seen many gentlemen in such dishabille, yet on my husband, I find it rather appealing.
“The look on yer face says yer happy to see me,” he says as he opens the carriage door. “Or perhaps yer simply happy to get out into the sunshine an’ stretch yer legs?”
“Hmm,” I playfully contemplate, “Perhaps both.”
I hear a low chuckle as he helps me down. “Well, yer going to be very happy wi’ me in about a quarter-hour. Come here, let me grab this bag. We’re going fer a walk.” From the second carriage, he pulls out a rather large travel bag and throws it over his shoulder, then turns to find me standing where he left me. “Ye look nervous.”
“Not nervous. Only curious,” I correct.
He comes to me, standing close and tips my chin up with the side of his finger and asks, “Maybe a bit nervous?” then places a small kiss on my lips.
“Truth be known, I’m always abitnervous around you.”
His dimple appears before he responds, “Good.” Then he takes my hand and walks me into the surrounding woods.
The scent of leaves and moisture surround me, and a spark of alertness refreshes my mind. It reminds me of so many days when I would stare out the window, waiting for the dreary weather to pass so I could escape the confines of the indoors. After days of smelling candles and wood smoke and everything in the house that was a hundred years older than me, I would become melancholy and start losing interest in anything but my craving for sunshine, fresh air, and a brisk ride through the forest with Willow.
“Feels good to be out here, aye?” Alasdair asks.
“You must be a mind reader. I was thinking exactly that. But I’m still curious. You seem to know where you’re going, and I don’t see much of a trail.”
“Aye, I do. I’ve stopped here many a time. Just a bit further, and you’ll see why.”
We continue for another ten minutes until I notice a distinct drop in temperature, the sound of rushing water, and the clean aroma that is only created by a waterfall. My pace quickens out of instinct. I regularly visit all the water features on my family’s land, but I have to sneak over to the adjoining property to enjoy an actual fall. I love anything that has to do with water, from the smallest trickling creeks to the lakes that seem as big as the sea, but there is something different about a waterfall beyond its mesmerizing beauty. A special sort of sensation, like a vibration that makes me feel more alive, forcing me to take deeper and bigger breaths while engaging all my senses.
The sound is louder now, and unable to wait a second longer, I run ahead of Alasdair. When I round the wall of stone, I am stopped fully in my tracks.
“Oh my goodness! Alasdair, this is spectacular!”
“I knew it would please ye. I had hoped the weather would clear so ye could enjoy it.”
I walk closer to the edge of a pool surrounded by huge gray boulders scarred with ancient cracks and painted with bright green moss. The water is crystal clear, allowing me to see the kaleidoscope of colored pebbles and stones that line its floor. I stand staring at this natural mosaic, mesmerized by the way the sunlight shifts and dances across its surface. There is something about a pond that is as clear as glass that fascinates me. It’s as if I’m looking through a window into another world, and my curiosity has always wanted to explore what is on the other side.
A random droplet of water lands where I am staring, and I smile as the perfect circles drift outward from its center. The distraction pulls my attention to the waterfall that will not be ignored. It is magnificent. Truly awe-inspiring. All of the waterfalls I have seen flow down the rocks and into a stream. This one is unique in that it flows off a massive flat stone that juts out from the wall that supports it, creating a curtain of water that lands in an adjacent pool.
“Alasdair, I can’t believe how beautiful this is. I’ve never seen anything like it.” A lump forms in my throat, as it always does when I am presented with something exceptional that nature has created; from a multicolored butterfly’s wing to a burnished orange sunset, my emotions seem to get as excited as my mind and my eyes well up with tears.
“Aye. It is one of the most beautiful falls I’ve ever seen. It’s hard to tell from here, but ye can walk behind it, and I will tell ye, that is an experience ye will never forget.”
I turn to him in excitement, “Will we do that today, right now?” I can’t even imagine doing such a thing.
“Oh, aye. But first things first,” he says with a devious smirk.
“Why am I suddenly nervous?”
Alasdair throws his head back and laughs. “Try not be nervous, my little faerie maiden. And keep an open mind. Ye will be happy ye did.” He pauses then and walks closer, reaching up to touch the side of my face. “But most importantly, ye need to trust me.”