The room was furnished with a thick twelve-hour candle, rings of dark wax marking the hours. We talked through three of the rings, only letting go of each other's hands to pour wine or get up to visit the privy stool behind the curtain in the corner. Returning from one of these trips, Jamie yawned and stretched.
"It is awfully late," I said, getting up too. "Maybe we should go to bed."
"All right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "To bed? Or to sleep?" He cocked a quizzical eyebrow and the corner of his mouth twitched.
In truth, I had been feeling so comfortable with him that I had almost forgotten why we were there. At his words, I suddenly felt a hollow panic. "Well—" I said, faintly.
"Either way, you're no intending to sleep in your gown, are ye?" he asked, in his usual practical manner.
"Well, no, I suppose not." In fact, during the rush of events, I had not even thought about a sleeping garment—which I did not possess, in any case. I had been sleeping in my chemise or nothing, depending on the weather.
Jamie had nothing but the clothes he wore; he was plainly going to sleep in his shirt or naked, a state of affairs which was likely to bring matters rapidly to a head.
"Well, then, come here and I'll help ye wi' the laces and such."
His hands did in fact tremble briefly as he began to undress me. He lost some of his self-consciousness, though, in the struggle with the dozens of tiny hooks that attached the bodice.
"Ha!" he said in triumph as the last one came loose, and we laughed together.
"Now let me do you," I said, deciding that there was no point in further delay. I reached up and unfastened his shirt, sliding my hands inside and across his shoulders. I brought my palms slowly down across his chest, feeling the springy hair and the soft indentations around his nipples. He stood still, hardly breathing, as I knelt down to unbuckle the studded belt around his hips.
If it must be sometime, it may as well be now, I thought, and deliberately ran my hands up the length of his thighs, hard and lean under his kilt. Though by this time I knew perfectly well what most Scotsmen wore beneath their kilts—nothing—it was still something of a shock to find only Jamie.
He lifted me to my feet then, and bent his head to kiss me. It went on a long while, and his hands roamed downward, finding the fastening of my petticoat. It fell to the floor in a billow of starched flounces, leaving me in my chemise.
"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I said, a little breathless. He grinned and pulled me close again.
"I said I was a virgin, not a monk," he said, kissing me again. "If I find I need guidance, I'll ask."
He pressed me firmly to him, and I could feel that he was more than ready to get on with the business at hand. With some surprise, I realized that I was ready too. In fact, whether it was the result of the late hour, the wine, his own attractiveness, or simple deprivation, I wanted him quite badly.
I pulled his shirt loose at the waist and ran my hands up over his chest, circling his nipples with my thumbs. They grew hard in a second, and he crushed me suddenly against his chest.
"Oof!" I said, struggling for breath. He let go, apologizing.
"No, don't worry; kiss me again." He did, this time slipping the straps of the chemise down over my shoulders. He drew back slightly, cupping my breasts and rubbing my nipples as I had done his. I fumbled with the buckle that held his kilt; his fingers guided mine and the clasp sprang free.
Suddenly he lifted me in his arms and sat down on the bed, holding me on his lap. He spoke a little hoarsely.
"Tell me if I'm too rough, or tell me to stop altogether, if ye wish. Anytime until we are joined; I dinna think I can stop after that."
In answer, I put my hands behind his neck and pulled him down on top of me. I guided him to the slippery cleft between my legs.
"Holy God," said James Fraser, who never took the name of his Lord in vain.
"Don't stop now," I said.
Lying together afterward, it seemed natural for him to cradle my head on his chest. We fitted well together, and most of our original constraint was gone, lost in shared excitement and the novelty of exploring each other. "Was it like you thought it would be?" I asked curiously. He chuckled, making a deep rumble under my ear.
"Almost; I had thought—nay, never mind."
"No, tell me. What did you think?"
"I'm no goin' to tell ye; ye'll laugh at me."
"I promise not to laugh. Tell me." He caressed my hair, smoothing the curls back from my ear.