Written In Stone

stables, leading his mount.
    "What?" Muredach looked up at him blankly.
    "I thought ye said something," Crinan said with a grin, helping Muredach with the horse.
    "No, I was just thinkin' to meself," Muredach muttered.
    "Thinkin' of Bettina?"
    "What mean ye by that, Crinan?" Muredach backed his brother against the wall with his arm across Crinan's chest.
    "Hold on, brother." Crinan laughed. "I just mean that she's grown to be a lovely lass and ye being her husband and all. If I was her husband I'd be thinking of her all the time."
    Muredach caught himself and released his brother. "Sounds like ye've thought of her already."
    "No more than a sister." He'd never seen Muredach jealous before, this was something new. "But ye can't ignore the way she looks. I am a man."
    "And have our brothers become men in my absence, noticin' how she looks?"
    Crinan laughed heartily. "Yer jealous of yer own brothers?"
    "Am not," Muredach said churlishly.
    "Muredach, we all love Bettina, and we are men. We can't help but notice her beauty, but first, we are yer brothers and she's yer wife. We look upon her as a sister, nothin' more."
    "Aye, I know that. I've just had a lot on me mind," Muredach said and started out of the stables.
    "But if ye were to die or somethin', there'd surely be a brawl over whi ch of us gets to take yer place," Crinan called out after him. Muredach could hear him laughing all the way across the bailey.
    ~ * ~
    Muredach ate his supper in the kitchen then ordered the maids to draw him a bath. He went straight to his room and bathed. After his bath, he dropped his plaid and stretched out naked on the bed. He was tired from the day's ride and hoped it would be enough to let him sleep without dreaming of Bettina. No such luck.
    The dream of Bettina was more real this time than ever before. He could actually feel her naked body lying along the length of his. Her hands, cool and soft, moved slowly over him, gliding silkily over his ribs to his chest, her fingers raking through the crisp hair, then moving down his stomach. He could feel his muscles quiver beneath her light touch, causing him to moan. Shifting onto his back, he felt her lips kiss him lightly on the chest. Oh, this was the best dream yet, or the worst, as his blood was beginning to boil and his body was vibrating. Her hand moved over his chest again, her nails scraping lightly over his skin, moving through the dark hair that covered his chest and belly making a line to the mass of hair around his cock. Her hand followed, attentively touching him, then wrapping around him, and began moving slowly up and down.
    Muredach's eyes flew open. This was no dream. "Lass! What be ye doin'?"
    Bettina's hand stilled but stayed where it was. "Exercisin' me wifely duties," she said carefully, exactly the way Maud taught her.
    "Bettina, this canna, we canna…"
    Bettina slid up his body and pressed her lips to his. She had been waiting a lifetime to do this, had waited and wondered if she would ever be grown up enough that Muredach would look upon her the way a man looked upon a woman, the way a man looked upon his wife. She had wanted to see the desire in his eyes for her, had wanted to feel him take her in his arms and kiss her with love and passion. She had waited for him to really consummate the marriage when he'd returned from his service, but that was apparently not going to happen. She could wait no longer and Maud told her exactly what to do. Bettina was nervous but determined to be a wife. Muredach's wife. In every sense of the word.
    His body was so big and strong, so powerful, and so beautiful, just like the Morgan horses he raised. He was a warrior, and she heard the tales of his many battles, witnessed with her own eyes how he'd defended her against her father, throwing him out of the keep like a beggar. Even knowing his strength in war, his fearless ability to annihilate the enemy, she also knew he was gentle. He never raised his voice to her, never belittled her, and had only treated her with the greatest respect since she'd arrived to become his wife. He was so tall, so broad, and so much bigger than she was. How could she not fall in love with him? She'd loved him since their wedding night. He was everything to her. Her protector, her provider, her husband, and now, he would be her lover.
    His face was beautiful too, she thought, one hand weaving through the long, black hair hanging past his waist. His black eyes were warm, with thick, dark lashes and