Really bad sex

I award the Empurpled Septre for Sexual Bathos to Nigel Tranter for this hyberbolic humping, from The Steps to the Empty Throne, the first book in his trilogy about Robert the Bruce:

"... My love for you has been eating me up. These many, many months. When I despaired ever to see you again. Yet still loved and hoped. And now - to have you, hold you, here! It is more than flesh and blood can stand ..." "Ah, Robert - so it is love! Then, my dear, I yield. Sweet God, I yield me!" Suddenly, fiercely, she was pressing forward, against him. "And, save us - I conceive your flesh and blood to be standing very well, my heart ...!" she got out, before his mouth closed over hers, and their lips and tongues found greater eloquence than in forming foolish words.

Tranter would have been well advised to heed his own wisdom at this stage, but decides to plough on, using many foolish words in his search for greater eloquence:

The man's hands were almost as busy as his mouth - nor were the girl's totally inactive, either. He shrugged his own cloak to the floor, and hers quickly followed it. Then he was tugging at her gown, while still he all but devoured her with his kissing. Her defter touch came to aid him, and the taffeta fell away from her shoulders. The pale glimmerof her white body was all that he could see, but his urgent fingers groped and stroked and kneaded the smooth, warm, rounded flesh of her, serving him almost better than his eyes, her nobly full, firm breasts filling the ecstatic cups of his hands to over flowing, as they overflowed the cup of his delight.

I'm not convinced her breasts could be both nobly full and at the same time firm, unless she's followed Pamela Anderson's lead, but lets not dwell on that, for Tranter certainly doesn't:

Suddenly he was down, kneeling, his lips leaving hers to seek those proud, thrusting breasts, the exultant nipples ...

Steady on!

... reacting with their own life and vigour. She bent over him, crooning into his hair, her strong arms clasping him to her, rocking. But their need was a living, growing thing, a progression, and quickly even this bliss was insufficient. He drew her down to him, pulling at the gown's folds which a golden girdle held around her waist; and willingly she came, loosening it. The spread cloaks on the floor received them, and with swift, sure co-operation she disposed herself, guiding his clamant manhood and receiving him into her vital generosity.

Clamant manhood?

The man fought with himself to control the hot tide of his passion, to give her time. Blessedly she required but little, and together their rapturous ardour mounted and soared into the high, unbearable apex of fulfillment. With blinding, blazing release, and a woman's cry of sheer triumph, they yeilded themselves together in simultaneous surrender into basic, elemental oneness, a profundity of satisfaction hitherto unknown to either.

I actually enjoyed the book, overall. It's just unfortunate Tranter likes to write really bad sex scenes every now and again.