“Please, join me in welcoming the new Laird of the McDowells, and his Lady, Michael and Kyven Gregor,” Brayden’s voice echoed across the chamber of the great hall as they stepped inside.
Kyven’s face hurt from smiling so much as she looked around the room. There was not a pair of hands that wasn’t thundering applause, nor a face not cheering. She saw many of the people she loved in a quick glance.
Helen was by Aaden’s side, as she so often was, by the dance floor. Elliot was sat on a table close by with Fiadh, his wife. In her arms was a small bairn, one so beautiful, a perfect mixture of her parents, that Kyven ached when she looked at the child.
At the back of the room were Brayden and Tynan, come to celebrate the wedding and take their places at the top table, places of honor, as the newly allied clan. Tynan was in his cups already, drinking and reaching out for a dance with the nearest lass, as Brayden finished the toast and sat down, such a satisfied smile on his face that Kyven couldn’t help warming to him even more.
At last, Kyven turned to face the man gripping her hand.
Michael was dressed in both sets of clan colors. The strips of plaid over his shoulders should have clashed horribly, but instead, they looked wonderful, a shining symbol of the union of the clans coming together. He smiled, the sharp features of his angular face softening as he turned to look at her and raised her hand to his lips. He looked ready to whisper something, but the pipers were beginning their loud music once again, a tune they had been playing ever since the ceremony had finished but a half an hour ago. Dancers swarmed the center of the floor, leaving their feast behind, eager to celebrate. The cacophonous din grew so loud that Kyven laughed.
Michael pressed his lips to the back of her hand, an intimate moment in the mad and wild room.
“What dae ye think, eh?” he whispered in her ear, trying to be heard above the raucous noise. “Is it the wedding ye pictured?”
“Nay,” she answered hurriedly. He looked concerned, but only for a second, as she was still smiling back at him. “It is more than I could have ever imagined.”
He drew her toward the dance floor, such purpose in his steps that she hastened to follow him. They lost themselves in the crowds with the other dancers, occasionally switching partners, so sometimes she ended up dancing with Aaden, other times Elliot, and at one point, Tynan, though Michael rather hastily grabbed her back at this point.
“Ye are more worried about him than ye are Aaden,” she laughed pointedly as he turned her under his arm.
“I ken Tynan,” Michael said with a deep laugh. “I think between him and Aaden, every lass here is in trouble.”
“Nay chance.” She giggled and fell against him. “In case it passed ye by, love, I just declared tae love ye tae me dying day in a church.” She stood on her toes and kissed him. “It’s a vow I intend tae keep.”
The smile that appeared on his face was unlike any other she had ever seen in his features. It made her wonder why they had wasted so much time in that library closeted away together, enjoying one another’s company, yet choosing not to tell each other how they felt.
When they were too tired to dance anymore, they retreated to the top table where Brayden sat talking politics with some of the councilors. He and Theo seemed to be getting along very well, though Brayden turned their way as they approached to talk to them.
“Well, well, congratulations, baby brother.” He stood and clapped Michael on the back.
Kyven laughed, thinking how strange it was to call Michael a ‘baby brother’ when he was so tall and broad.
“I couldnae be happier fer ye.” Brayden held tightly onto his shoulder. “But promise me one thing now. Nay more hiding from us, aye? Nay matter what yer worries, we face it as a family. All of us.” He looked pointedly at Kyven too and offered his hand. She gladly gave it to him as he kissed the back, not with intensity, as his brother did, but with reverence and respect.
“I promise,” Michael said with feeling. “Ye ken why I hid though.”
“Aye, I do.” Brayden sighed heavily as he reached for his goblet. “It pains me tae say it, but I fear in yer shoes I would have done exactly the same thing. Now, something else I must say…” He glanced around his shoulders, making sure they weren’t being overheard. “I imagine the last thing ye two want tae do is spend the whole night here. I’ll run interference with the others, if ye like.”
“How is it ye read minds?” Michael grunted, shaking his head.
Kyven laughed as Brayden simply smiled.
“Ye forget, I am yer brother. Now go, quickly, before Tynan and Aaden can drag ye both back to the dancefloor.”
Kyven parted her lips to thank Brayden, but before she could, Michael had tugged on her hand. They jumped down off the back of the platform where the top table had been raised, and he hurried her toward the door, heading out into the hall. She laughed loudly as they toppled together against a nearby wall, unable to hold in her happiness as Michael kissed her neck.
“Should we nae stay a little longer?” she asked breathlessly. “They have all come tae celebrate with us.”
“Aye, they have, but it’s time we had a celebration of our own.” He pulled her again through the corridor.
“I cannae keep up with ye. Yer legs are too long!”
“We can solve that issue.” He turned to face her, pulling her to stand, then promptly thew her over his shoulder.
“Michael!”
Yet he didn’t put her down. She could feel him chuckling warmly as he carried her all the way up the stairs.
They didn’t go to her chamber but made their way through candlelit hallways to his new chamber instead. Far away from the barracks, it adjoined her own chamber through a secret door. He opened the door and strode inside fast, reaching straight for the bed, where he promptly threw her down on the mattress. She was still laughing, pushing herself up into a seated position, when he returned to the door and locked it tight.
The fire was roaring in the hearth. The plush new bedding, decorated with wolfskin furs, glistened in the light, and across the mantelpiece were white winter flowers, beautiful in their iciness and the way they contrasted the warmth of the fire.
“Ye’ve been planning this,” she observed, nodding at the hearth.
“Oh, I have.” He leaned on the door, turning to face her with a mischievous smile.
There was a nearby meow, and something jumped up onto the bed.
“Lottie,” Kyven said with a smile as she turned to greet the cat. The kitten had grown a little bigger in the last two months, and around her throat was a trail of flowers. She greeted Kyven by nuzzling her with her head, then purred contentedly. “She is beautiful. I cannae believe ye got her just tae try and get me attention.”
“Well, it worked. Damn Aaden. He kens what he is doing with women, I’ll give him that.” Michael walked back across the room and suddenly swept the cat up in his arms. He stroked Lottie affectionately, then placed her down on the floor again. “Sorry, Lottie, but ye willnae be needed fer our next celebration.”
As if she had understood him, she meowed and darted to a small wooden flap which had been inserted in his door, zooming out quickly.
The moment she was gone, Michael’s lips were upon Kyven. She reached up toward him, pulling the plaid off his shoulders as quickly as she could, trying to get access to him.
The last couple of months in the castle, they’d had to be good, only sneaking away together from the prying eyes for the occasional moment. Now, married, they could spend all the time together in a chamber they wanted, without questions from anyone.
“Stand,” he urged. She did as she was instructed.
“Ye ordering me around now?” she asked playfully.
“Well, as the new laird, this is the only place I will order ye around.” There was mischief in his tone as he winked at her. “As beautiful as ye are in that green gown, take it off.”
Slowly, she untied the laces and slipped it from her shoulders. The whole time he watched her, that gaze hungry.
“Next, the chemise, but… leave the stockings on.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t question him. She let the chemise drop down and stepped out of her court shoes, leaving the stockings on.
“Come,” he urged with a crook of his finger.
She crawled back onto the bed, thinking that he was wearing far too many clothes. She straddled him on the bed, pulling at his shirt in order to get to him.
“Say it,” he urged in her ear as he kissed down her neck.
“I’m yers,” she whispered, knowing by now exactly what he liked to hear. It was a thrill to her, to know that this was what he loved. “I am yer wife now, Michael.”
He growled under his breath, in the most animalistic and seductive way. She practically moaned aloud, pleasure in her gut coiling at the sound alone.
She was flicked onto her back fast, falling onto the cushions of the bed. He knelt before her, taking off the last of the shirt then reaching for his trews. It was a sort of pleasant torture to watch him. At one point, she tried to reach up, to explore him, but he playfully took her wrists and held them above her head, pinning them to the pillow. She whined in pleasure, her body writhing. It caught his attention, and he looked down her body, gazing at her breasts and hips.
When he had nothing on, he released her wrists and placed his hands on her thighs, parting them and lifting them high. Her body was wet and ready for him, her hands shaking. She didn’t need any preamble tonight. All she wanted was to feel all of him.
He slid into her fast, without hesitation. To feel his full penetration made her back arch off the bed. She gasped, gazing up into his blue eyes as he moved slowly at first. Once more, she tried to wrap her hands up around him, but he took her hands and held them either side of her down to the pillows. He had full control, and she loved it, yet even as he controlled her, his fingers entwined with her own. There was care at all times. She reached up to him, showing what she wanted, arching her back, and he gave it to her, bending down and kissing her.
As he did so, he increased the pace of their movements. It was consuming, so fast, the pleasure reaching every part of her, that she couldn’t stop the tingling sensation that spread through her body. She felt at once that her end was near, and even though she told herself she did not want this night to be over yet, her body had other ideas.
She tightened around him, and her cries of pleasure were muffled against her lips. He moved fast still, even harder, riding out her pleasure and shifting his hands so they were flat to the pillow. He had complete dominance now, leaving her a writhing mess on the bed beneath him.
She was still coming down from her high when she noticed the sounds he made changed.
“Kyven. Ah…” He groaned and grunted aloud, the sound even more animalistic than before. He reached up, gripping the bedhead with one hand as his other hand reached for her thigh and held her leg wider. He seemed to be reaching a different part of her, new scales of intimacy, when he suddenly moaned her name loudly. “Kyven.” He bucked repeatedly into her, and she felt a warmth spreading through her connection.
She realized at once what had happened, such a smile spreading across her face as he came down from his own high, catching his weight on his elbows on either side of her.
“Michael, ye…” She was breathless, struggling to say what she felt.
“I couldnae pull out –”
“I didnae want ye tae pull out,” she said. They both smiled at the sensation. She raised her hands up around him, embracing him tight. “Just think, there may be a baby Michael running around this castle in a year’s time.”
As he kissed her again, Kyven sank into his arms, having no wish to rejoin the celebrations downstairs. She was in the best place she could possibly imagine being, with a future ahead of her that once, she had only dreamed about.
Lottie meowed at the door and they both broke off from their kiss, laughing together.
One month later…
There was no doubt in Tegan’s mind that this was going to be the best day of her life. How could it not be? She was marrying Ciarán, and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. Just a few months ago, she would never have imagined she would ever fall in love. Now though, against all the odds, the dream she had never dared to dream was finally coming true.
As the wedding day dawned bright and clear over Castle Kincaid, Tegan was a bundle of nervous excitement when Ailis, and her future sisters-in-law Lillie, Diarmaid’s wife and Lady Kincaid, and Maddison, joined her for breakfast. They were all to serve as her bridesmaids.
Lillie was a lovely young woman with a warm personality, about the same age as Tegan, and they had quickly bonded. The pair had soon become firm friends once Ailis and Tegan had settled into Castle Kincaid. In the short time the sisters had been there, the four young women had formed a close and supportive relationship that Tegan loved being a part of.
“Well, me dears, there’s much tae be done,” Lillie said with a smile, replacing her empty teacup in its saucer. “We should finish our breakfast and make a start on getting Tegan ready if she’s nae tae be late tae her own wedding.”
“Aye, ’tis eight o’clock already,” Maddison pointed out, “and the weddin’s at noon. Ye must get a shift on, Tegan.”
“What?” Tegan exclaimed. “’Tis four hours tae go. ’Tis nae gonna take me all that time tae get ready. All I have tae dae is put on the dress and get me hair done.”
The other three looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“I told ye she’d say somethin’ like that, did I nae?” Ailis said, still chuckling.
“Aye, ye did, and ye were right,” Maddison said, giving Tegan a mischievous look. “I’m surprised she’s even agreed tae wear a gown. I thought she’d be goin’ up the aisle in her usual clothes, dressed like a man!”
They laughed some more, and even Tegan could not help joining in. Then Lillie told her gently, “There’s a lot tae dae tae make sure ye look yer best fer Ciarán on yer big day. Ye want tae look nice fer him, de ye nae?”
“Of course, I dae she said, “but I’m nae used tae so much fuss bein’ made about what I look like.
“Ach, come on,” Maddison teased, “I’ve seen how Ciarán looks at ye when he sees ye wearin’ a fine gown. He can hardly keep his eyes off ye, let alone his hands.” Tegan blushed while she laughed.
“Aye, I’ve noticed that as well. But I bet it willnae stay on long when ye’re alone,” Lillie added, sending Ailis and Maddison into fresh paroxysms of quite unladylike hilarity, while Tegan’s cheeks burned.
“Wheesht, Lillie, ye’re terrible!” Ailis cried with tears in her eyes.
“Well, Ailis, I’m wed tae his braither, so I ken what I’m talking about!” Lillie answered with a saucy wink at the bride, eliciting more chuckles.
“Now, Tegan,” Maddison told her when they had stopped laughing. “Ye can relax and let us dae everythin’ fer ye. First ye must bathe in scented oils, so ye smell nice, then have yer hair curled, then ye have tae get into yer wedding clothes, and that takes a wee while, ye ken, with three petticoats, and yer headdress and all that.”
“And jewels, she must have her jewels,” Ailis put in. “And some perfume.”
“And yer shoes. Ye must nae forget yer shoes,” Ailis said, making them all laugh again.
Tegan, secretly tickled by their mirthful mood, curbed her smiles and with mock severity pretended to scold them. “Come on, then, what are ye wastin’ time chatterin’ fer? There’s a lot tae be done in a mere four hours, and yer makin’ me late fer me own weddin’ already!”
And so, the long preparations to turn Tegan into a bride began.
“I think she’s just about ready,” Lillie said at about a quarter to twelve. Tegan, who felt she had been moved about and posed like a living doll for the last few hours, had been growing increasingly excited, nervous and impatient all at the same time.
“Aye, she looks like a beautiful bride in a painting,” Ailis agreed. Then, she grinned at Tegan and asked, “Are ye really me sister? I dinnae recognize ye.”
“Wheesht!” Tegan said, looking at the lovely woman in the looking glass with amazement. “I dinnae recognize meself.”
The gown was unlike anything she had worn before, even as Ailis’s bridesmaid. The full, wide skirt was supported by a complicated underpinning, with three lace petticoats to add volume, and finished by a pale lilac overdress richly decorated with embroidery and encrusted with tiny glittering pearls. Her waist had been cinched in by Maddison until she feared she would never breathe again.
The sleeves were short and puffed, and the fashionable square neckline plunged lower than any she had ever worn before, putting the top half of her breasts on show. Tegan felt a little exposed and very daring, but she was secretly thrilled to imagine how much Ciarán would appreciate it. She admired her pretty headdress of lilac silk roses and the same pearl beads. It perfectly set off the mass of curls pinned atop her head. Her pearl earrings, necklace, and matching bracelets, presents from Diarmaid and Lillie, glimmered softly against her white skin.
I actually look beautiful! I just hope Ciarán thinks so too.
“Och, ye certainly make a bonny bride. I swear Ciarán’s eyes are goin’ tae pop out of his head when he sees ye comin’ down the aisle,” Lillie put in, dabbing perfume behind Tegan’s ears.
“Shoes!” Ailis ordered, helping Tegan to put on her embroidered silk slippers.
“There, ye’re ready,” Maddison finally declared with a last circuit of the bride. “Ye ken, ye all look lovely too, in yer bridesmaids’ dresses,” Tegan told them,
admiring them in their matching cream silk dresses, as per ancient tradition. “Ye dae me credit, and I cannae thank ye enough fer all yer help.” She air kissed them all, wanting to avoid smudging the light application of rouge on her lips.
“I cannae believe the way ye’ve made me look. I’m so grateful. I hope me groom kens who I am when he sees me!” she joked despite her nerves. They were really starting to set in as the hands on the clock crawled closer to noon.
“’Tis ten tae the hour. We must go down,” Lillie said. “Are ye ready, Tegan?”
Tegan took as deep a breath as she could in the tight corset. “Aye, I’m ready,” she replied. “I wish Faither and Maither were here tae see this,” she told Ailis, feeling sad that they were not there with her on that day.
“Ye ken they’re lookin’ down on ye and burstin’ with pride,” her sister assured her with a reassuring smile. Tegan squeezed her arm affectionately, hoping it was true.
Lillie opened the door, and they went downstairs, flanked by a bevy of excited maidservants. Finally, after moving gracefully along the beautifully decorated hallways, they came to a halt outside the doors of the great hall. There, they were greeted warmly by two smartly dressed servants. While they waited to be summoned, Tegan’s heart fluttered in her chest, and she found it hard to breathe. All she could think of was that she was marrying the man she loved.
After what felt like an eternity to her, the doors were opened, and a smiling equerry peeped out at them.
“We’re ready for the bride,” he said. Tegan swallowed hard as she looked over his shoulder into the packed room. The murmur of conversation stopped, and a hushed silence fell over the congregation. Then came a soft rustle of clothing as many guests turned their heads to look at her. The walls were adorned with colorful decorations, and a galaxy of lamps and candles cast warm, amber light over the vast chamber, lending the scene a dreamlike, magical air in Tegan’s eyes.
She stepped onto the carpet that formed the aisle, and she and her bridesmaids set off at a regal pace, as they had rehearsed several times, towards the makeshift altar at the opposite end of the hall.
When she spotted Ciarán’s tall, broad figure standing there before the minister, her heart fluttered madly, and a smile burst forth onto her lips to see he had turned and was smiling back at her. When she finally came up to join him, she thought she might swoon, for he looked so handsome in his clan regalia and fine clothing, his long dark hair caught up behind his head, revealing his sculpted features and dark-gray eyes. They exchanged loving looks, gazing deep into each other’s eyes and grasping each other’s fingers tightly.
The ceremony began, the minister intoning the service gravely. At last it came to the part where Ciarán made the small cuts on their wrists with an ornamental dagger and pressed them together to mingle their blood. Diarmaid was there to bind their hands together with strips of cloth of their respective clan tartans. Then, he pulled them tight, to form the marriage knot that would be preserved as the symbol of their union and the union of the two families and clans. When Diarmaid carefully slid the knot away, releasing them, and the minister pronounced them man and wife, Tegan thought she would explode of joy.
“Ye may now kiss the bride,” the minster pronounced. Ciarán wasted no time in taking Tegan in his arms and kissing her thoroughly in front of the assembled congregation of distinguished clan families, the allies and friends of Clan Kincaid. Tegan kissed him back with enthusiasm, pouring all the love in her heart into it.
Now married to the man she adored with all her heart, Tegan’s nerves dissipated, and the fun began as they embarked on the wedding breakfast. There were traditions to follow, of course, like drinking the whisky from the quaich, the two-handled cup that signified unity, from which the whole company must drink after the bride and groom to ensure good luck.
Then, before the feast officially opened, Ciarán had to pay the piper his due, a dram of whisky. They were then piped into dinner and thus guaranteed good luck their whole lives through. For Tegan, the party passed in a blur of wine, whisky, food, laughter, chatter, dancing, and being whirled around the dancefloor by her husband.
In between times, she sat on Ciarán’s lap, stealing more kisses, before they were eventually carried by a good-natured, well-oiled crowd, led by Diarmaid, up to their newly appointed wedding chambers. It took some time before the well-wishers could be persuaded to return to the party.
“Ach, I’ve been waiting all night tae get ye alone,” Ciarán murmured as he shut the door on the last of them and turned to his bride. He grabbed Tegan around the waist and danced a little jig with her over to the enormous bed, where they fell onto the coverlet side by side, giggling like children.
They lay facing each other, nose to nose.
“I love ye, Husband,” she whispered.
“And I love ye, Wife,” he whispered back as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“This has been the happiest day of me life, Ciarán. Thank ye, fer everything.” She stroked his face tenderly, her heart bursting with love for him.
“’Tis the same fer me. I feel blessed tae be married tae me lovely lassie at last. And now, I’m going tae make love tae ye all night long.”
“Are ye? Is that a promise?” she teased excitedly, already filled with desire for him.
“Aye. Well, maybe we’ll just have a wee nap first, eh?” he told her with a grin, snuggling close to her and wrapping his arms around her. “I must admit, I feel a wee bit tipsy. ’T’was all that drinkin’ and dancin’ that did it.”
“Mmm, I ken. I feel a bit sleepy too.”
So, they fell asleep on the coverlet, cuddled up like puppies, after a very busy, very important day. But wine and whisky have a way of wearing off. In the wee small hours of the night, when the lamp was burning low, they awoke. They wriggled out of their fine wedding clothes, helping each other with the various fastenings. Then, they lay naked, breast to breast, lip to lip, and were soon overtaken by an insatiable passion.
Ciarán pulled Tegan closer, their breath mingling together. She closed her eyes as their lips collided, savoring the taste of him as her husband for the very first time. It made her dizzy to think he was hers, and she was his.
Slowly, delicately, they explored each other’s lips and mouths, their tongues entwining in a leisurely, erotic dance. Tegan smiled into his mouth to feel his manhood already throbbing hard against her thighs, never tiring of how she loved the power she had to excite him. It spurred her own passion. She pressed her hips and breasts against him as their kisses deepened, emboldened by his need for her. He made her feel beautiful, desirable, and she wanted to give him everything and take everything he had to give.
Sliding her hands across his broad chest, she shivered to feel the soft, springy dark hairs covering it. While their kisses grew more fervent, her hands wandered across his muscular back, tracing with her fingertips the snakelike scar she had come to love so much. Intoxicated by the power and strength he exuded, Tegan’s breath quickened as she marveled at his sheer magnificence.
On an impulse, she straddled him, rubbing her moist, burning sex against his already throbbing member provocatively. She took it firmly in her hand and guided it to her entrance. Slowly, groaning deep in his throat, his eyes dark and hungry upon hers, he let her impale herself upon him. Tegan let out a small scream of ecstasy as he filled her, letting him linger deep inside her for a few moments before she began moving her hips up and down, with Ciarán’s hands gripping them, carefully regulating the rhythm of her movements to tantalize him, wanting to give him pleasure as well as herself.
“More,” she breathed, increasing her rhythm as her desire demanded. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she bounced in his lap, smiled into his eyes. Needing no second bidding, Ciarán smiled back, thrusting his hips upwards to match her pace until they were moving in perfect harmony.
Tegan moaned and thrashed as desire moved up her body in waves, spurred on by Ciarán’s groans of pleasure. Their movements quickened as they began chasing the pinnacle of their mutual passion. Finally, they peaked at exactly the same moment, clutching at each other, their lips clashing, sweating and panting.
“Och, Ciarán, I love ye so much!” Tegan exclaimed into his neck.
“I love ye too, Tegan, with all me heart and soul,” he breathed raggedly against her hair as he shuddered to a climax inside her.
In the afterglow, they lay tangled together on sheets dampened by their passion, content and sated, sharing kisses and gentle laughter. Tegan could not recall a time when she had felt so happy and complete as she did at that moment, lying in Ciarán’s arms.
“I didnae think I could ever be happier than this,” she murmured against his chest.
“Me neither, but we have the rest of our lives together to find out if we can be,” he replied with a small chuckle, kissing the tip of her nose and gazing lovingly into her eyes.
Tegan stroked his cheek tenderly. “Aye, the rest of our lives. I cannae wait.”
Much to the bride’s delight, the day of Lillie and Diarmaid’s nuptials dawned clear and bright over Castle Murdoch. When Lillie looked out of her chamber window on waking and saw the waters of the loch glittering in the morning sunlight, it felt like a very good omen.
As tradition dictated, she and Diarmaid had spent the night before the wedding in separate chambers, it being considered bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony.
“I’ll miss ye next tae me in bed,” he had grumbled good-naturedly when she had reminded him of it, “so I suppose I’ll just have tae make up fer it on our wedding night,” he had added with a glint in his eyes that had made Lillie shiver even as she giggled.
At an early hour, Lillie’s chambers were bustling with female activity as she prepared to look her best when she walked up the aisle with Diarmaid. To add to her pleasure on the special day, she was surrounded by all her best friends, old and new.
Her sisters-in-law Ciara and Lara, had arrived at Castle Kincaid several days before, along with their husbands, Lillie’s beloved brothers, Aiden and Darragh. Reuniting with her family after so long had been a joyous and emotional affair.
Her best friend Hannah and her mother Maria, the healers at Castle MacDonald, had traveled along with her family in a carriage provided by Aiden.
“Och, so there ye finally are,” Hannah had teased Lillie when they had embraced at long last, though she had tears in her eyes. “Me and Ma have been wondering where ye’d got tae.” Lillie cried a little too at seeing her best friend after so long, remembering how they had parted on the day when Lillie had been kidnapped by Caelin McIrving.
When she told them the story as she showed them to their guest room in the castle, Hannah gave her a sound scolding for her foolishness going to the market alone that day.
“Why, anything could have happened tae ye,” she said, full of frowns.
“Aye, well, it sort of did,” Lillie had to agree, wiping her friend’s frown away and turning it into a smile.
And as for Maddison, while she and Lillie had only met a short while before, their shared experience of captivity and love of Diarmaid had enabled them to form an instant bond. They had been spending a lot of time together, with Maddison finding that keeping busy with helping Lillie to prepare for the upcoming wedding was just the kind of cheerful distraction she needed in the aftermath of her captivity.
“Ye’re helping me tae get over me experience,” she had told Lillie several times. “Ye understand what ’tis like, fer ye’ve been through it yerself. I dinnae have tae explain me feelings tae ye, Lillie, and I couldnae ask fer anyone better tae understand me now I’m free. I’m so very grateful ye’re here, and that ye’ve been here all this time, helping Diarmaid.”
Lillie had been deeply moved by Maddison’s words and had hugged her tightly, holding back tears.
“I feel the same about ye, Maddison. I’ve never really had anyone tae talk tae about me own captivity. Aiden and Darragh were wonderful, but if ye havenae had the experience of being locked up day after day, in the dark, being fed scraps, and sleepin’ on straw, never kenning if each day might be yer last… well, however much folk may care fer ye, they cannae understand ye dinnae simply walk away from something like that unscathed.”
The women had since shared their darkest moments during captivity, and Lillie had been able to comfort Maddison when the nightmares and reminders of her terrible time in the dungeons at Lennox Castle tormented her.
Their bond had only been fortified by the arrival of Ciara and Lara at the castle for the wedding a few days before, something which Lillie had been very much looking forward to. She had missed them all so much!
After an emotional reunion, Lillie was overjoyed when they all got on right away. Lara and Ciara shared their stories and experiences with Maddison, which seemed to create a special bond, a link between the four of them that, to Lillie, felt unbreakable. The four women were united in their past sufferings at the hands of evil men.
Ciara, who had saved Lillie from her imprisonment by her own father, the evil Laird Keir MacNeil. She had been subjected to his cruelty since her mother’s death in childbirth, for which he blamed her. He had ultimately tried to murder he, and she had almost died getting away from him, only to be rescued by Aiden.
Lara, daughter of Laird Harris MacLean, had been locked up in Keir MacNeil’s secret dungeon just before he was killed by Aiden. She admitted she would have likely perished in her cell if Darragh had not been sent to take over the MacNeil castle and found her by accident.
“’Tis like I’ve kent ye all fer years,” Maddison had told the two women after only a few hours in their company.
“I always wanted a sister, and now feel I have three, and that I’m part of a sisterhood of wonderful lassies who all understand me, and help me, and will always have me back,” Maddison had told them all the evening before at dinner, with a sincerity that had made Lillie’s heart glow.
“Aye, I dae as well,” she had said, squeezing Maddison’s hand. “’Tis just like we’re sisters.”
“’Tis the same for me too,” Lara piped up, beaming.
“And me,” Ciara agreed. “Should we nae drink a wee toast tae ourselves?” she suggested, her pretty hazel eyes sparkling with good humor.
“That’s a grand idea,” Lara had put in, taking up a jug of wine from the table wine and topping up their goblets. “Now, ladies, raise yer glasses high,” she had urged them. “Maddison, ye dae the honors.”
“Tae the sisterhood!” Maddison declared, a broad smile lighting her still pallid face as she raised her goblet along with the others.
“Tae the sisterhood!” the others intoned, clinking their goblets together and downing their wine before bursting into laughter and giving themselves a cheer for good measure.
And so, on the day of her wedding to Diarmaid, having her best friend and honorary sisters with her in her chambers, helping her to look her very best for the ceremony, was very special indeed.
“’Tis nearly time, m’lady. They’re all waiting fer ye,” Penny said, pink-cheeked with excitement as she appeared in the doorway of Lillie’s chambers.
Lillie turned her head from where she was standing in front of a full-length looking glass, being fussed over by the sisterhood, which now included Hannah.
“But ye look bonny in yer new gown, Penny,” Lillie said, smiling at her faithful maid. “That emerald-green suits ye well.”
“Well, I thought I’d better take the opportunity tae look me best, fer a wedding’s a good place to find a man,” Penny observed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m hoping tae have some luck tonight.”
That elicited general laughter.
“Aye, me and the laird made sure tae invite as many single lads as we could think of, so ye and Sheila and Lorna will have the pick of ‘em,” Lillie joked.
“Keep yer head still, will ye?” Hannah murmured through a mouth full of hairpins adorned with tiny diamonds. “I need tae make sure this headdress doesnae come loose.” She was carefully pinning a headdress wound with pink wild roses and white and purple heather to the top of Lillie’s head, fixing it firmly.
The rest of her hair had been brushed out to shining perfection beforehand and rippled down her back to her waist in a shining cascade. “There ye go. I think that should hold,” Hannah murmured at last, stepping back to survey her handiwork. She smiled at Lillie in satisfaction. “I reckon ye could dance a hundred jigs and nae come tae harm,” she assured her.
“Now, we just need to make sure the train willnae catch on anything when Lillie walks down the aisle,” Lara said.
“We’ve got it, Hannah,” Maddison chimed in as she, Hannah, and Ciara took up their positions side by side behind the bride and carefully took hold of the edge of the richly embroidered, cream-colored lace train as Lara gently unfurled it.
“Right, wait fer me,” Lara said when she had finished, coming to take her place next to them. Together, they held the train clear of the floor.
Each of the girls was wearing a lovely, embroidered overdress of sky-blue satin over an underskirt of a slightly darker hue, with a square-necked bustier trimmed with lace, and long, trailing sleeves cut on the diagonal. The style echoed the cut of Lillie’s own dress, which was a very dark blue and more richly decorated with embroidery and seed pearls.
“The lasses all look very elegant,” Penny observed from the doorway, her tone admiring.
“Aye, they certainly dae,” Lillie agreed, smiling at the view in the looking glass as her bridesmaids held her train.
“But the bride, what a beauty, m’lady!” Penny added, shaking her head in mock disbelief.
“Ye’re right, Penny, she looks truly elegant, Lillie,” Ciara said as they all four smiled back at Lillie in the glass.
“Aye, such a bonny bride,” Lara agreed with a nod and a smile.
“Ye look absolutely stunnin’,” Hannah said with a small sob, her eyes shining with tears.
“Aye, I reckon me braither’s nae gonnae wait fer the ceremony tae be done when he sees ye lookin’ like that, Lillie. He’s just gonnae pick ye up and run off with ye,” Maddison jested, lightening the mood. However, Lillie could see she was juts holding back tears as well.
“Thank ye all, Sisters,” Lillie told them, a bundle of nervous anticipation and excitement herself. She brushed the folds of her skirt lightly with her fingertips and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had never worn a gown like it.
“Och, I hardly ken meself!” she told them breathily, hardly able to reconcile the beautiful woman in the mirror with herself.
I just want tae look me best fer Diarmaid!
The lovely gown clung to every curve of her body in the most flattering way, and the lace train gave it a touch of elegance such as she felt she had never possessed before. Maddison had arranged for her favorite seamstress down in Harrowby to make it, as a wedding present for her new sister-to-be. Lillie thought the woman had done a fine job.
“Ach, yer face is glowing,” Maddison told her, dashing a small, happy tear from her eye.
“Aye, ye look radiant,” Lara chimed in. “Ye have the look of a bride who cannae wait to get tae the altar.”
“’Tis true, I have tae admit. I cannae wait tae be Diarmaid’s wife–again,” she told them with a girlish giggle. “I feel like I’m havin’ a wonderful dream.”
They laughed. “Dinnae worry, lass, ye’ll nae be wakin’ up any time soon,” Ciara assured her, eliciting laughter all round.
“I’m so excited I just pray I dinnae forget me words! At any rate, I want tae thank ye al fer helpin’ me get ready,” Lillie told them, kissing all four women on the cheek.
“We must go, m’lady,” Penny urged. ’Tis time.”
“D’ye have yer strip of cloth fer the hand-fasting?” Maddison suddenly asked as they began to move toward the door. “Ye cannae be wed without it!”
“Aye,” Lillie replied, holding up her wrist, where a strip of MacDonald tartan cloth was loosely tied. “I think I’m ready,” she added, fresh excitement surging through her at the prospect of seeing Diarmaid at the altar.
“Come then, let’s go,” Maddison said decisively. At last, the bride’s procession to her wedding began, and the ladies walked elegantly along the hallways of the castle and down the staircase.
“Are ye nervous?” Maddison asked her.
“A little,” Lillie said. “But I think they’re happy nerves. I just wish me Maither and Faither could be here tae see me wed. I hope they’re looking down on us from heaven today.”
“I’ve nae doubt they are, and they’re very proud of ye, I’m sure” Maddison told her. “Just as I’ve nae doubt our parents and our brother Rónán are all looking down on Diarmaid as well.”
“Thank ye, Maddison, that is such a lovely thought,” Lillie said, touched by her words.
Her nerves were beginning to take over, now that they were approaching the doors of the great hall. Slowly, two guards swung open the doors. Lillie gasped to see the chapel pews were packed with people, all dressed in their best finery for her wedding. Over a hundred pairs of eyes turned to look at her as she began her slow walk down the aisle. Murmurs of admiration arose from the congregation, and the guests smiled at her as she passed.
However, Lillie did not see them. Her attention was fixed upon the tall, broad figure waiting for her at the altar, with the minister standing behind him. Her heart swelled with love and pride as Diarmaid turned his head to look at her, his eyes darkening when he caught sight of her approaching.
He looked incredibly handsome in his full clan regalia, and when he smiled at her, a smile full of love, her heart skipped a beat to know that the Laird of Kincaid would soon be hers forever. And she would be his.
The hilt of his sword glittered in light of the candles that flickered on the altar, the candles that signified their union. Around his wrist, Lillie spied the strip of tartan cloth necessary to complete the handfasting ceremony. The breath left her body at the magnificent sight of him, her heart beginning to pound as she drew ever closer.
She thought she would swoon, but somehow, she gathered the strength to walk the last few steps to stand at his side. She so wanted to do him proud. He took her hand gently in his, looking deeply into her eyes. In those green depths, Lillie could clearly see the love he bore her. She felt like the luckiest woman alive as she smiled up at him tremulously, telling him with her eyes that her heart was full of love for him.
The minister took up his position, and the ceremony began. Most of it was a haze for Lillie, for it was hard for her to concentrate with Diarmaid’s beside her, squeezing her hand tightly. Finally, it was time for the most important part of the ceremony, the handfasting.
Ciarán brought forward a velvet cushion on which lay a wicked-looking dirk. He removed the strips of fabric from both their wrists and waited while Diarmaid took the knife and, without hesitation, deftly made a shallow cut across his wrist. Blood seeped out as he quickly turned Lillie’s hand over and gripped it tightly as he did the same to her wrist, making her gasp slightly.
Then, he pressed their wrists together, mingling their blood, while Ciarán carefully tied their joined hands together the two strips of fabric, trying them in a loose knot before standing back. Then, Lillie and Diarmaid pulled gently against the knot until it tightened, and looking deeply into each other’s eyes the listened to the minister declare them man and wife.
Ciarán came forward and gently slid the knot from their hands, freeing them, placing the knot aside for safekeeping. It would be carefully preserved and displayed as another symbol of the joining of the clans and the joining of Lillie and Diarmaid.
“Ye may now kiss the bride,” the minister announced with benevolent smile. Lillie thought she would burst with happiness when Diarmaid bent down and kissed her lips, and she responded with fervor. The congregation roared their approval, and she and Diarmaid smiled into each other’s eyes as they turned in unison to greet everybody as a married couple.
Lillie’s heart overflowed as she clung to Diarmaid’s arm, looking out over all the people who had come to help them celebrate their wedding. Truly, she could not imagine it was possible to be happier than she was at that moment.
The memories of the ceremony were something she knew she would always cherish, but the wedding feast was also very memorable, and it lasted until the early hours of the next day.
Ciarán, Aiden, Darragh, Lara, Ciara, and Maddison all gathered around the Laird’s table in the dining hall when Lillie and Diarmaid drank the traditional dram of whisky each from the ceremonial quaich, the two-handed cup that signified the bonding of their two clans. With the quaich being passed around for all to take a drink, Diarmaid paid the piper his traditional dram, upon which the man began to play, and the party began in earnest.
“Ye look absolutely beautiful, Wife,” Diarmaid whispered in her ear as they danced an elegant galliard to open the dancefloor. Diarmaid may have been huge and muscular, but he was also very light on his feet and cut a fine figure, never missing a step as he and Lillie smiled at each other all the way through the dance.
“Look, look!” Lillie nudged Diarmaid’s elbow when they were having a rest and getting a drink. He looked where she was pointing among the couples on the crowded dance floor.
“Well, well, that’s a wee surprise,” he said, his brows rising. “I cannae remember ever seeing him dae that before.”
“I ken. Is it nae exciting?” she asked, watching closely as Finian danced elegantly with Hannah, who was beaming at him, while his eyes were fixed intently upon the lovely young healer.
“Och, I hope somethin’ comes of it. I’d be able tae say we brought them together then,” Lillie said, fancying the idea of a bit of matchmaking. “Ciarán certainly appears tae be enjoyin’ himself,” she added with a chuckle, watching her brother-in-law expertly tripping a galliard with a small, curvaceous young woman with long, black curls down her back and flashing blue eyes. “He’s been dancin’ with her most of the night,” she pointed out.
“Ach, well, there’s a very good reason for that. What ye see there, me darlin’ wife, is Lady Betty Andrews, the daughter of the Laird o’ McKee,” Diarmaid informed her as he handed her a brimming glass of wine. He took a long sip of his own as they watched the handsome young couple cavorting. “He’s been sweet on her since they first met aged about ten.”
“So, why are they nae together?” she asked curiously, sipping at her drink.
“Well, she was supposed to be getting betrothed tae Rónán at one point,” he explained. Lillie’s face fell.
“Och,” she said, wishing she had not brought the subject up.
“Aye, exactly. Though it was nae a love match, although they got on well enough. Rónán loved another lassie, and I think, in truth, Betty would have preferred being betrothed tae Ciarán. But she had nae say in the matter, of course. It was a political thing.”
“So, d’ye think anybody will object if they get together now then?” Lillie asked, thinking what a difficult situation, fraught with sorrow and guilt, it must have been for the would-be lovers, with Rónán being murdered so heinously.
“It depends on whether her faither thinks he’d dae better tae marry her tae a laird, I suppose.”
“Nay! That would be terrible. Poor Ciarán. Poor lassie. Can ye nae have a word with her faither about it?” she asked, looking up at Diarmaid. “It breaks me heart tae think of a good man like Ciarán bein’ in love and nae being’ able tae have his chosen bride. I want him tae be happy, as we are.”
“So dae I, but I dinnae want tae interfere. If me braither asks me tae speak tae McKee, aye, I will, but ’tis up tae her faither at the end of the day who she weds,” he said. “Now, Wife, let’s go and dance.”
They danced la volta, a dance where they circled each other with elegantly enticing movements, until they eventually came together, and Diarmaid hoisted Lillie up in the air by her waist in the “jump” that gave the dance its name. However, in complete disregard for the steps, he then refused to put her down and continued to whirl her about in the air, eliciting giggles from her and much laughter from the other dancers.
“’Tis a grand party, tae be sure,” he whispered to her even later when they were in the middle of a particularly energetic country jig, “but I have tae admit I can hardly wait tae get ye alone.” They were dancing between two columns of clapping, whooping couples before they reached the top and had to part, to run down to the start and meet again.
“I have tae admit I feel the same, Husband,” she whispered back, panting with exertion as she planted a kiss on his lips. It was simply impossible to look at him and not want him. “When can we decently take our leave, d’ye think?” She added with a mischievous giggle.
“Well, I think because everyone’s gone tae such trouble tae make this a happy day fer us, we owe it to them stay at least another five minutes,” he said with a suggestive quirk of an eyebrow.
“Husband!” she cried, pretending to be scandalized. “Ye ken very well it would be rude not tae stay a wee while longer.”
“Five minutes?” he shot back as they threw themselves back into the fray, his laughter vibrating against her cheek as she clung to him tightly, giggling.
It was well into the night when they finally decided they could wait no longer and announced their departure. They were then serenaded to their chambers by raucous shouts and vulgar songs from their family members, headed up by Ciarán and accompanied by Aiden and Darragh, all three being merry from drink.
Eventually, Diarmaid decided he wanted Lillie all to himself and shooed everyone else away, firmly shutting the door behind them. The noise receded as the roisterers returned to continue the celebrations.
“Alone at last,” Diarmaid rasped, taking his wife around the waist and gazing at her so hungrily, Lillie melted into him, entwining her arms around his neck. He carried her over to the large bed and laying her down none too gently. She laughed and did not care, for the flame he always kindled inside her had ignited with force.
“Kiss me,” she whispered, reaching up as he kneeled over her, pulling him down on top of her, wanting to feel his weight on her once more. It excited her beyond words.
He obliged with enthusiasm. “I intend tae kiss ye all over all night, Wife, ye can be certain of that,” he told her huskily when their lips finally parted.
“And I intend tae dae the same tae ye, Husband,” Lillie promised, yearning to feel his warm, naked body against hers. “Now, will ye get me out of this dress?” she begged, turning so he could undo the fastenings of her gown. He skillfully started undoing her laces.
“Ye dinnae need tae ask twice. I was just thinking the same thing meself,” he told her with a wolfish grin, his fingers nimbly working to free her. Before long, she felt the dress loosening and wriggled to help Diarmaid slide it down over her hips.
“How many damned petticoats are there tae this thing,” he grumbled.
Lillie giggled. “Three,” she told him.
“Ach, I’ll be here all night at this rate,” he complained but set to undoing all the strings and pulling the petticoats away one by one. Then, he started on her stays, until her wedding clothing formed a pile on the rug, and she was dressed in nothing but her chemise and stockings.
“Ach, ye’re a sight for sore eyes, me Lillie,” Diarmaid breathed in frank admiration as he ran his palms over her exposed flesh, making her tremble with desire. She reveled in the deep groan that came from his throat as he fondled her behind.
Deftly, he flipped her onto her back and made to pull the chemise over her head. Lillie lifted her arms to help him, smiling up at him, eager for touch. Soon, she was naked but for her stockings. He lifted himself up and rolled them down carefully, tracing a molten hot trail of kisses and nibbling bites up and down her legs, teasing her and making her moan and wriggle beneath him. Already, she felt the desire pooling between her legs.
“I notice ye’ve still got yer clothes on, m’laird. Will ye nae take them off so I can get at ye?” she invited in between the small moans prompted by his caresses that were escaping from her lips. She was desperate to feel his naked skin against hers. The moans became squeals of delight as his kisses reached her inner thighs and brushed teasingly across her sex before moving upward to her belly.
“Mmm,” he mumbled, his hands now on her naked breasts, cupping and squeezing them in a leisurely fashion, with obvious enjoyment. He sucked and nipped at the peaks playfully as they hardened with desire, watching her through slitted eyes, to see the effect of his caresses.
Lillie moaned louder and pulled him closer. His body lay atop hers, and she could feel the length of his aroused manhood pressing against her. The urge to have him inside her was so powerful, it was overwhelming.
“I want ye, Diarmaid, please,” she murmured softly, her hands pulling at his clothing.
“Yer wish is me command, me lady wife,” he said, a devilish glint in his eyes as he stood up from the bed. His gaze never left hers as he tore off his sword belt, tartan plaid, and coat and threw them over a chair, missing it completely. With a comical shrug, clad only in his shirt, he kicked off his boots. His tipsy stumbling had Lillie laughing despite her lust.
Finally, he tugged off his shirt and heedlessly tossed it aside. As always, Lillie’s insides burned to see his magnificent body revealed to her. The sight of the broad expanse of his chest and the hard, bulging muscles of his arms and shoulders thrilled her. But it was his fully aroused manhood that stood up proudly to greet her she craved the most.
Diarmaid joined her on the bed again, resuming his sensual exploration of her body with his hands and lips. His manhood nosed gently against her thighs, and she abandoned herself to the luxurious pleasure of his ministrations, eagerly returning his kisses and caresses.
She slid her palms across his smooth skin, her fingers tracing the battle scars that were enow so familiar to her and which she found so sensual. She delighted in the feel of him, marveling at his strength. Her fingers meandered down his belly, taking his now rigid shaft in her hand, eliciting a loud and satisfying groan that made Lillie burn with wanting.
“Love me, Diarmaid, please, I cannae wait any longer fer ye tae fill me,” she pleaded softly, her other hand tangled in his hair, while the other caressed his manhood. With a provocativeness she hardly knew she possessed, she slid down, her legs encircling his waist, opening herself for him.
The way he looked at her then, such was the heat in his eyes, sent her into a kind of delirium. Slowly, he positioned his manhood at the center of her hotness and pushed into her.
As his full length slipped inside her, filling her to the hilt, he grunted low in his throat. The feel of him inside her and the animalistic sound forced a scream of pleasure from her, and she pressed her hips upward to meet him. They fell against each other, lip to lip, almost breathless, in white hot passion. Holding her tightly, his hot breath on her skin driving her to distraction, Diarmaid began to move his hips.
At the same time, he leaned above her on one elbow, freeing one hand to strum on her excited rosebud until she could only thrash beneath him helplessly, desperate for more. As her moans mounted, his rhythmic thrusts grew harder, driving into her, filling her completely. The excitement was building inside her now with every movement, a wave of heat rising inside her with his every thrust.
His groans of pleasure undid her, and she met him every time, sensing that he too was approaching the climax of their lovemaking alongside her. When it came like a racing tide, they clung to each other, bucking wildly, crying out together, united in an ecstasy that Lillie felt carried them far away from this world and into one made just for them.
“I love ye, Lillie,” Diarmaid panted in her ear as they lay together in the aftermath.
She smiled in deep contentment, hugging him to her. “And I love ye, Diarmaid. Forever.”
He rolled over, encircling her with his arm. She lay happily against his chest, running her fingers idly across it.
“We’ve come a long way together, have we nae?” he asked, kissing her hair. “I can hardly believe we’re truly man and wife now, and we can be like this every night from now on.” He gave a satisfied, happy sigh.
“Aye, I ken. It all seems like a dream. A wonderful, magical dream. I’m so happy.”
“Well, ye’re mine, forever and always.” He spoke in a tone of wonder.
“I wouldnae have it any other way,” Lillie breathed, her heart overflowing with contentment. “I’m the luckiest lassie alive, fer sure.”
“Aye, ye must be thankin’ yer lucky stars I bought ye at that auction,” Diarmaid teased her.
“Ye great fool!” she protested affectionately, laughing.
“Fool, is it?” He cried in mock umbrage, tickling her suddenly and making her shriek with laughter. “Well, now, I’m going tae have tae punish ye fer being so disrespectful tae yer husband.”
Effortlessly, he rolled her on top of him, clasping her body to his, and soon, they were kissing again, and one thing led to another. They made love again, tenderly, leisurely, before they curled up in each other’s arms, and they fell into a deep, contented slumber.
“I am starting tae think this feast was a mistake,” Braden said from his seat atop the dais while he looked at the people around, enjoying a dram or laughing wholeheartedly at someone’s joke. “I cannae recall the last time Rósmire was so loud. If ye wished tae retreat early, I could have that be arranged, mo chridhe.”
“Give the masquerade a chance more,” Edith cooed from behind her mask, and he saw those little wrinkles around her eyes he loved so much, and she despised so deeply. “It will be good fer us tae make something braw out of the tragedy of last year. Besides… I think the wee tyke likes the attention.”
Braden leaned away from Edith, accepting her answer but not before he kissed her cheek, enjoying the little blush that appeared where his lips had been but a second ago. He supposed it would have been a shame to conclude the festivities so early. The grand hall of his ancestral home echoed with laughter and music, candlelight flickering off the masks adorning the guests, as a yule log burned in the great hearth. It had taken him, Madden and fourth a dozen of men to bring it in. A difficult battle it was, but their victory was well celebrated later with mead and jokes.
His alliances had flourished since his struggle with MacLeod, many clan chieftains eager to prove themselves to the man who had felled two legends in one night. Among the most notable guests, members of Clan Leòideach had travelled down to attend. His once would-be bride, Lady Adamina, was dancing with her husband Ewan. Catching her eye, Braden nodded to her in recognition, grateful that the both of them had found their happy endings. He wondered how different their lives would be if indeed Braden married Adamina. She would not end up with her childhood love Ewan and Braden would never feel what true adoration felt now toward his wife. He looked again at Edith that was chatting merrily with the serving maid while she poured her some wine.
Empty and pointless. That was what me life would be without Eden in it.
His newfound celebrity was nothing compared to the joy he had found with Edith. She was a picture beside him that evening, dressed in a gown of vibrant red, similar in style to the one she had wedded him in, almost a year gone to the day. While still as beautiful now as she had been then, much about her had changed. Braden himself felt transformed for the time that had passed since their meeting: happier, safer, stronger.
His wife glanced down at the child in her arms. Their sleeping son, a wee babe by the name of Teigue, was as patient as a saint. All night long, the Hamilton guests had been coming up to introduce themselves to him, each one as eager as the last to see with their own eyes the future Laird of Castle Rósmire.
No one was more eager to see the babe than Edith’s own family. Casting his glance towards the back of the room, Braden smiled as he caught sight of the small Macrae convoy, accompanied, as always, by Madden as their guard. Keelin was speaking energetically with the Kinnaird diplomat, while her mother and father sat nearby.
Many speculated as to the source of Christane’s recovery. While not completely returned to health, she had been able to live a strikingly normal life since when Braden had first met her. Odart, standing nearby, claimed the greater part of convalescence, as was expected of the Beaton. Braden and Edith, of course, had their own theories…
Eventually, Christane and Keelin came to steal Teigue away, transporting him upstairs where the wetnurse awaited. Edith conceded him reluctantly, turning towards Braden and throwing herself in his arms.
He wondered how lucky he was to have her steal that mask one year ago. Or rather Keelin making her take it away. If it was not the scandal, Edith wouldn’t end up being his wife. He often thought about it. If they hadn’t kiss and exchange their fortune, would they still marry? Would this be Edith’s lucky happening too, the same way it was his?
“Grant me a moment?” he asked as the dancing wore on, and looked her into her sparkling eyes, now even marrier from the wine.
“A moment and forever,” Edith replied, stirring his insides with just four words.
Without question, she followed him as he directed her through the humid throng of masked guests, eventually leading her not to the dancefloor but outside onto the terrace, where a strand of mistletoe was hanging at the exact same place. Edith seemed to realise immediately what he had planned, but was kind enough to feign ignorance as he took her hands in his in the darkness.
Guiding her beneath the mistletoe, he turned to his wife with a soft knowing smile, leaning in to press a tender kiss upon her lips. Edith accepted him gladly, her fingers snaking into his hair. It has passed one year and still every time he kissed her, he felt as excited as the first time. They parted briefly, as Braden rested his forehead on hers, gazing gently into her eyes. The gentle strains of a bard song, performed in Gaelic, were spilling from the open doors, the distant chattering of people only adding to the magical athmosphere.
Taking her hand, Braden pulled her into a dance, earning himself a delicate laugh.
“Would that I have been more charming the first time,” he joked as Edith fell into his embrace. “Or ye liked me so exactly because it didnae take me long tae land a kiss on those mesmerizing full lips,” he whispered in Edith’s ear after he nodded at her pink mouth pointedly.
“Bampot…” She shook her head, then cupped his face softly. “If ye had done anything differently, perhaps we would nae be where we are. And I love where we are…” She paused to kiss him again. “So very much…”
“It is with pleasure, I ask ye all tae assist me in welcoming the happy couple, Elliot Faulkner, and his wife, Fiadh.”
Fiadh a new name at last. It gave her as much joy as Elliot did, as he took her hand and led her into the great hall. No longer did she have Ossian’s surname attached to her. It was a new beginning, where she would be free of him.
Together, she and Elliot stepped through the double doors and into Clan Chattan’s great hall. At the far end of the room, Laird Noah and Lady Scarlet stood on a platform behind the top table. Scarlet had her son in her arms as Noah clapped warmly, leading the applause after his announcement.
All around the room were the rest of their friends. She saw Ian and Aila by the pipers that had gathered and knew well enough that they would soon be leading the dancing. Murdoch and Eloise were at a table, sharing a drink, and Avery and Callie stood near the top table, with Callie clapping over her head in her eagerness as Avery held their daughter in his arms.
It was a beautiful sight, with so many people applauding them that Fiadh stepped back in surprise. Elliot’s hand grasped hers tighter as he laughed.
“Nae expecting this?”
“There are so many people,” she whispered as he led her further into the room. The applause faded as Noah led a toast to them. Multiple goblets were raised into the air, chinked together, before their bearers downed the mead and ale within. “It is quite different tae me last…” She trialed off, not wanting to talk about him now.
“Tae yer last wedding,” Elliot finished the words for her. “I kenned it must be. Ye never need think about him again now, Fiadh. We may have been uncertain before, but we now ken, without a doubt.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her near. “He can never bother ye again.”
“Thank God,” Fiadh said warmly, just before her sisters descended on her.
“Fiadh!” Callie cried. “Come, come, let us share a drink.”
“Fiadh, ye looked so beautiful at the ceremony,” Aila gushed. “Ye reminded me of Maither. Ye look so like her.”
Fiadh was swept away by them. Taken to a nearby table, she drank mead, though she struggled to concentrate on their conversation. She kept glancing back at Elliot, who had also been taken away by friends. Murdoch and Aaden stood either side of him, laughing about something as they drank, and Fiadh longed to be a part of the conversation.
Ever since they had returned to the Chattan castle, their secret nights together had to come to an end. Aila and Callie kept far too close an eye on Fiadh for them to manage being together. The one night that Elliot had attempted to come to her chamber, he was caught by one of the guards and accused of lurking in the castle in the middle of the night. Elliot had reluctantly gone back to his chamber and had to make his apologies to Fiadh in the morning.
Now, there will be nothing tae stop us.
Fiadh looking longingly once more at Elliot across the room, seeing him laugh with his friends. He had been more himself again since they had returned to the Chattan clan. His father’s health was improving by the day, and that news seemed to bring him greater levity and comfort. He was back to the Elliot she had first fallen for, the man who jested and joked, the man who looked for the lightness in life, but now Fiadh knew the whole Elliot, how he could be when life truly turned dark, and she loved all of him.
“She isnae listening to us,” Callie said eventually and bumped Fiadh with her elbow. “We shall have tae let her return tae her husband.”
“She’s distracted, and with good reason,” Aila chuckled. “I remember when ye and I found one another again. I dinnae recall getting much of yer attention the night ye married Avery.”
“I wasnae this bad!” Callie complained and thrust a finger at Fiadh.
“Ye were,” Aila insisted, folding her arms. “In fact, I think ye were worse.”
“Wasnae.”
“Ye were.”
“When did we retreat intae being children?” Fiadh asked with a laugh. “I’m sorry if I’m distracted, Callie. Put it down tae being truly happy at last.” Once more, she looked away. This time, she caught Elliot looking back at her. Subtly, he was jerking her head. He seemed to be motioning to the door, asking her to meet by it.
“I am delighted tae see ye so happy.” Callie stood on her toes to reach up and kiss Fiadh on the cheek. “Go on, off ye go then, and be deliriously happy. Judging from the way yer new husband is looking at ye, I’m certain ye will be tonight.”
“Callie!” Aila blushed a deep red and swiped her hand.
“Enjoy yer evening, and forgive me if I go tae enjoy mine too.” Fiadh said with finality, laughing, putting an end to the matter.
Aila giggled as Callie waved her off.
“If ye’re sore in the morning, I have a tonic that will help.”
“Shh, Callie,” Aila urged her as Fiadh walked away, eager to meet Elliot by the door.
She saw across the room that he too had extricated himself from his friends. They each circled the room, heading to the door. The moment he reached her, he took her hand. With no words, he pulled her through the doorway where they hurried to the stairs.
“We will be missed,” Fiadh pointed out, halfway up the stairs. Elliot halted and turned back to look at her, with a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Dae ye wish tae return?”
“Dinnae tease me now.” She raced past him on the stairs and dragged him behind her.
She was dazed as they headed to his chamber, stumbling into the room in their eagerness to kiss each other. She couldn’t see any candles, but she didn’t care to take the time to light them either. There was fire in the room, and that was enough to offer a little light, enough to see Elliot as she pulled back from their kiss and started tugging at his clothes.
“Dinnae stop,” she pleaded, pulling his shirt over his head after dropping his doublet to the floor.
“I have nay intention tae.” He chuckled warmly. “Ye and I have nay reason tae part from one another again. Nay reason tae hide, Fiadh. Nae now.” He kissed her once more, his hands reaching up to the laces at the back of her gown. He undid them with one swift tug, in danger of snapping them, though she would have hardly cared if he had torn the entire gown just to get to her. The heat was consuming her from the inside. All she could think of was Elliot and wanting him again, needing him.
They backed up in the direction of the bed, though she pulled so much on his trews on the way that they became tangled around his ankles, in danger of toppling the pair of them over. He laughed, pulling back from her, and tearing the gown clean off her. When she was in nothing but her chemise and corset, he turned her around, pulling on the corset next.
“Damn thing,” he muttered in her ear. “It keeps me away from ye.”
She laughed softly, loving these moments. Even when they were caught up in their passion, in their need for one another, he could still make her laugh. Throwing the corset away, he took her chemise and lowered it down her shoulders, then he moved her toward the bed, his hands on her hips, with her back still to him. When she dropped her hands down onto the bed, his hands caressed her bare rear and her back.
“God, Fiadh,” he whispered, bending over her back. He kissed every part of her that he could reach, and Fiadh writhed with her palms on the bed, just wanting more of his touch. His lips trailed a path down her spine, across one of her butt cheeks, her hips, the tops of her legs, then up her back once more and to her neck. As he raised himself up, she felt his foot nudging one of hers to the side, spreading her legs.
“Elliot… please.” She was in danger of begging him.
“How could I refuse ye anything?” he whispered, as his length touched her entrance.
When he entered her, she felt her head lurch back, a sudden moan escaping her lips. It was always the same with him. He gave her the thrill, the pleasure, that she should have always known.
He wasn’t gentle tonight, but full of need, rocking their bodies together, and she adored it. It satisfied all the longing she had felt these last weeks when they were unable to see each other at night. She rocked back into him, meeting his hips with her own, their rhythm so quick that they were soon sweating in the heat of the fire. She could feel it beading down her spine, though strangely, she didn’t mind. It was part of the moment, part of the heat that was between them.
When his hands gripped her hips hard, she felt her edge nearing. He created such pleasure within her, so deep inside of her, she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her head fell down onto the bed between the palms of her hands as the pleasure washed over her in waves. Her toes curled against the floor as the thrill spread through every part of her.
His movements grew faster. As the final moments of her pleasure washed over her, she felt him still, thrusting into her one more time. That familiar warmth spread through their connection, and she lifted her head, looking back at him over her shoulder to see him with his mouth open. One of his hands was on her back, holding onto her tight, and the other was gripping to the bed post, keeping himself standing.
“Nay need tae be apart again,” he whispered, bending down and kissing along her back.
She smiled, longing to tell him how much these moments meant to her. It wasn’t just about the passion and excitement, though she loved all of that, but also how safe she felt. In this room, with Elliot, she knew, he would keep her safe, he would never hurt her, and it was where she should have always been.
As he pulled out from her, she rolled over on the bed and reached for him, pulling him down over her and meeting his lips with her own.
“I love ye,” she whispered, between their kisses, knowing that really, this was the only thing she needed to say.
“I ken how important these clansmeets are for Dunn, but remind me again why we are forced tae attend as well?”
Ewan shot Adamina a glance from beside her. She was glowing in the faint golden light of that Glasgow ballroom—glowing too from her pregnancy. He allowed his gaze to linger down her body, settling on the gentle swell of her stomach beneath her ornate brocade gown. She had complained at length about the frivolity of her dress earlier that night, but Ewan thought she looked ravishing. Then again, when did she not?
“Yer brother needs tae present a united front,” Ewan said, placing his hand on her stomach. The gesture was concealed beneath their table. Adamina settled her own hand on top of his. “And besides, ye ken I like tae flaunt ye.”
“Even after these two years of marriage, ye are still such a tease.” His wife gave a bright smile, crinkling her eyes. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, then returned her gaze to the ballroom.
They were attending their second annual clansmeet, hosted by the Crown in Glasgow, that year. It was quite the trip from Orkney, where Ewan and Adamina had definitively made their home. There had been much talk about new beginnings and travelling the world. They had explored somewhat in the first year of their marriage, taking some time in the Lowlands to learn to live in peace again. But nowhere would be home to them like Orkney.
Ewan’s heart clenched in his chest. He could hardly believe how strong Adamina had become. She was still the same lass that he had loved his entire life, strong-willed and honest. But she had grown wiser, calmer, gentler in their marriage. Her nieces and nephews kept her busy, when her books did not. She seemed genuinely fulfilled, and hopeful for the birth of their first child.
As if she could read his thoughts, she pointed at the end of the hall. Dunn was entering beside Tor. Both of the Viking Lairds were beginning to show their ages. Dunn’s hair was streaked with grey, no doubt from the stress of having to rule over a clan as challenging as Clan Leòideach. Both men were still powerhouses, embodying the prowess of their respective charges. Their wives entered after them, arm in arm.
Adamina breathed a sigh of relief. Even though they were starting a family of her own, she still worried day and night for her older brothers. Ewan doubted that would change any time soon. It was etched into her soul to agonise over Tor and Dunn, just as they would continue to agonise over her.
“Dae ye think we’ll see the Queen this eve?” Ewan asked, imbibing the last sip of his drink. “I suppose ye’ll have some choice words fer her.”
“Och, dinnae remind me.” Adamina supplied him with a laugh, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I have managed tae hold my tongue thus far. And I dinnae exactly feel like making an enemy of the Crown this evening.” She gazed up at him lovingly. “So long as I have ye by me side, and our bairn in me belly, and perhaps a dance, I will be happy.”
“I suppose I could spare the time tae dance with ye.” Ewan grinned. “I shall nae be blamed if I am the cause of yer embarrassment. Ye ken I have always been more graceful on the battlefield than on the dancefloor.”
Adamina shook her head, straightening up to press a kiss on his cheek. “Ye could never embarrass me.” She widened her eyes, wagging a warning finger. “That wasnae a challenge, now. Dinnae be getting ideas…”
They were soon joined by the rest of their family. Katarina had been doting on Adamina ever since she had learned of her pregnancy, and she settled gladly into the seat beside her. With two children of her own to raise, she was busy. Adamina was soon engaged in a new conversation with her sisters-in-law. She gave Ewan’s hand a squeeze as he slipped away from the table, joining Dunn and Tor a little further away.
“I was just about tae call ye over,” Dunn said, clapping Ewan on the shoulder. He had to speak loudly over the other guests. The volume in the hall was near deafening as old friends and acquaintances reconnected all around. “It’s good tae see ye, councilman.”
“And ye, melaird,” Ewan replied.
Where once he had shirked from his title of councilman, he now accepted the anointment proudly. He had taken a few months away to find himself and feel worthy of it, returning to his post without the shadow of his father looming over him.
He greeted Tor amicably, then turned to regard the man with whom they had been speaking. Something in the man’s face was strangely familiar to Ewan. He searched his brain for answers, but his confusion must have been written over his face, as Dunn let slip a rumbling laugh.
“I sense ye’re just as confused as I was, when first I met our friend here.” Dunn pursed his lips, gesturing towards the man. “Ye shall more confused, when he introduces himself. Believe me.”
Ewan nodded, feeling uneasy.
“Me name will be kent by ye,” the stranger said. His eyes were warm, but he held himself with reserve. Like he was hiding a grave secret. “But I would ask that ye dinnae judge me too harshly fer it.” His neck worked as his gaze met Ewan’s. “I am Laird Braden Hamilton. I believe…” The man’s jaw ticked. “I believe ye were once acquainted with me cousin.”
“It’s nae possible,” Ewan murmured in disbelief. He took a step back, stopped by Dunn.
“Dinnae go fetching yer bow, now,” Dunn warned. “Laird Hamilton isnae the villain his cousin was.”
“I understand yer confusion, seeing a ghost in the flesh,” Braden continued, nodding. “But given the chance, I would like tae dae right by ye and yer wife. As I understand it, my cousin caused ye both a great deal of trouble.”
“Tae say the least,” Ewan replied, looking towards Dunn for support. He glanced briefly back at his wife, wanting to glean everything he could about this surprising re-encounter before forcing the knowledge of Braden’s survival upon her. “With all due respect, melaird, how is it possible that ye yet live?”
“An understandable concern.” Braden smiled. “How long have ye got? I fear it could take a while indeed tae tell ye me story. But I should like tae, if ye will hear me out…”
If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…
Edith Macrae, born under a lucky star, experiences a fateful shift when a Yule masquerade kiss with a stranger robs her of good fortune. As Edith grapples with the realization that saving her sick mother hinges on reclaiming her luck, she discovers a painful truth: the man she’s falling for is the one she must ruin – Braden Hamilton. The man who has stolen her fortune with his kiss. With Yule’s end looming, Edith’s choice will either doom her mother or cause the loss of her new husband. Which life is she willing to sacrifice in a race against time and destiny?
Darragh awoke with a start, the air around him dark heavy. Sweat slicked his muscular frame, causing the rough linen sheets to cling to his body. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one echoing through the small room like the thud of a distant war drum. Confusion and panic clawed at the edges of his consciousness as he tried to separate the nightmare from reality.
“Wha—where am I?” Darragh’s voice trembled, barely audible above the sound of his pounding heart.
Lara stirred beside him, her lithe form turning to him. Then, she sat up and lit a candle before moving closer to him in the bed, her long brown hair brushing against his damp skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“Shh,” she whispered, her voice like a soothing breeze. “Yer safe, Darragh. Yer here with me.”
The golden candlelight flickered as her gentle touch caressed his cheek, the warmth of her palm grounding him in the present moment. A faint scent of lavender filled the air, calming his frayed nerves. The terror that had gripped him instants before began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of security that only Lara could provide.
“Ye always ken how tae bring me back,” Darragh murmured, the tension in his voice slowly dissipating.
“I love you,” Lara replied, her words warm and tender. She pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, her lips soft against his skin.
As Darragh’s breathing steadied, his eyes locked onto Lara’s, conveying gratitude beyond words. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers.
“Thank ye, Lara,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I dinnae ken what I’d dae without ye.”
“Neither dae I,” she replied, her smile a beacon of light in the dim room. He had to laugh.
***
The following morning, as Lara and Darragh entered the dining room, the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling sausages greeted them. Lara’s family were gathered around the large wooden table, their voices mingling in a symphony of laughter and conversation.
“Ah, there ye are!” exclaimed Laird MacLean, his bushy eyebrows rising in delight. “Come, sit. We’ve been waiting for ye both.”
“Thank ye, Faither,” Lara replied, guiding Darragh to an empty seat beside her younger brother. She helped herself to the food in front of her, while talk turned to childhood scrapes.
“Did ye hear about the time Lara tried to climb the tallest tree on the castle grounds?” Gil teased, grinning at Darragh. “She got stuck halfway up, and we had to call the blacksmith to help get her down!”
“Och, I was only ten!” Lara protested, feigning indignation as laughter bubbled around the table. She glanced at Darragh, who chuckled along with the rest, his eyes crinkling in genuine amusement.
“Ye never did lose yer adventurous spirit,” Elsie said fondly, passing a plate of bacon to Lara.
“Indeed,” Darragh agreed, meeting Lara’s gaze with a tender smile. “I’ve learned much from this lass—courage, love, and how to find joy even in the darkest times.”
The room fell silent for a moment, each member of Lara’s family reflecting on Darragh’s words. Then, her father raised his mug in a toast.
“Here’s tae love and family, and to the journey ahead,” he declared. “Together, we are stronger than any storm.”
“Slàinte!” they chorused, clinking their mugs together before taking a hearty swig.
It had been three months since Darragh and Lara had settled into life with her family, and their bond had only grown stronger.
Harris leaned over to hand a letter to Elsie. “More mail for you, dearest daughter,” he said winking an eye at her.
“Och, look at ye, Elsie!” teased Gil, as he playfully nudged her arm. “Another letter from a suitor?”
Elsie rolled her eyes, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Aye, and what business is it of yours, Gil?” she retorted, folding the parchment and tucking it into her apron pocket.
“Only that we want to make sure our dear sister finds herself a proper husband,” chimed in Quinn, his grin revealing a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Three months have passed, and still nae decision?” Darragh observed, feigning shock as he reached for a slice of bread.
“Perhaps I’m waiting for a man as dashing and charming as ye, Darragh,” Elsie shot back with laughter. “Someone who can put up with me siblings’ relentless teasing!”
Lara smiled, watching the playful banter unfold. In the months since Darragh had become a part of their family, she marveled at how effortlessly he’d woven himself into their lives. Her heart swelled with gratitude for the affection they all shared.
“Maybe we could arrange a tournament,” suggested Lara’s father, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Have the suitors compete for Elsie’s hand in true Highland fashion!”
“Father!” Elsie protested, trying to suppress a giggle. “I’m nae some prize sheep to be won!”
“Of course, lass, but it might nae hurt to see what they’re made of, eh?”
As everyone continued to jest and tease, Lara’s thoughts turned inward. The passing of time had brought with it growth and healing for all, especially Darragh. His once frequent nightmares had lessened, and the shadows that had haunted him seemed to dissipate with each day spent among their loving family.
“Ye ken, Elsie,” Lara’s father began with a smile “I’ve heard that young Duncan MacLeod is looking for a wife.”
Elsie’s grin to matched her father’s, rolled her eyes playfully. “Father, Duncan is so… dull.”
“Ah, but he has a good head on his shoulders,” countered Lara, joining in the banter. “He’d keep ye in fine style and make sure ye never want fer anything.”
“Except excitement,” Elsie retorted, earning laughter from around the table.
Lara caught Darragh’s eye. She could see the genuine warmth in his gaze as he looked at her family, the bond they had formed evident in his relaxed demeanor.
“Perhaps we should be searching for a more adventurous suitor for Elsie, then,” mused Lara’s father, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Someone who can match her fiery spirit.”
“Like Darragh?” Elsie suggested impishly, glancing sideways at the burly Highlander.
“Och, lass, ye flatter me!” Darragh boomed, grinning broadly. “But I believe e heart belongs to another.”
“Good,” Elsie declared, feigning relief. “I dinnae think I could handle all that brawn.” She winked at Lara.
“But enough about me,” Elsie protested, turning the conversation back on her sister. “How did ye manage tae tame this wild beast, Lara?”
Lara felt warmth rise in her cheeks as Darragh’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close. “It wasnae so much taming as finding a kindred spirit,” she whispered, her gaze locked with his. “Enough teasing,” Lara finally added with a smile. “Let us enjoy our meal and give poor Elsie some peace.”
“Very well,” Gil conceded, winking at his sister. “But we’ll continue this discussion later!”
As the meal drew to a close, and the servants began to clear away the dishes, Lara marveled at the life she and Darragh were building together. Through trials and tribulations they had remained steadfast in their love and commitment to one another, emerging stronger than ever before. And with her family’s unwavering support, she knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them side by side, their bond unbreakable, and their dreams of a happy life together within reach.
The sun was now high in the sky, casting a glow over the Scottish Highlands as Lara and her family gathered outside their castle. The scent of lavender from the nearby fields mingled with the earthy aroma of peat smoke wafting from the chimney. A gentle breeze rustled through the branches above, causing the leaves to dance and whisper secrets.
If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…
Accidentally kidnapped and auctioned off to a fierce Highland brute, Lillie MacDonald’s life takes a surprising twist. Thrust into an unwanted betrothal with Diarmaid Kincaid, she finds out that even the wildest of beasts can be tamed. Yet, her blossoming love is shattered as she discovers Diarmaid’s ulterior motive: a trade to rescue his own sister. In this intricate dance of passion and betrayal, both Lillie and Diarmaid are destined to suffer the casualties of love…
Such screams erupted from the top of the tower that everyone looked at one another. Eloise stood at the side of the group with Aila and Fiadh on either side of her. They all looked up to the window of the chamber above them.
“It must be soon,” Avery said, from where he stood between all of the men in their group. Laird Chattan clapped him on the shoulder in comfort as Ian sighed, shaking his head.
“It can drag on, my friend,” Laird Chattan said in a low tone. “Trust me, Scarlett was just the same with our little one.”
“But it has been hours!” Avery hissed in panic.
“Ye need distracting.” Murdoch took Avery’s other shoulder.
“I am nae leaving this spot.” Avery thrust his hands down at the cobbled ground, refusing to go anywhere.
When another almighty cry erupted from the top of the tower, Avery tried to launch himself forward, but Eloise stood guard with Fiadh and Aila.
He cannae see. Callie told us specifically nae tae let him in until the child was born.
“Take him away,” Eloise urged Murdoch and Laird Chattan.
“Eloise!” Avery hissed, trying to claw his way back.
“All of ye,” Scarlett urged, moving to Fiadh’s other side. “Take him away until we send fer him.”
“Ye two are my sisters!” Avery snapped, but it got him nothing.
“Then trust we ken best, big brother,” Scarlett called after him with a deep laugh as he was swept away.
Murdoch and Laird Chattan each had a shoulder, and Ian followed, threatening to pull out a crossbow. Clyde and Elliot followed behind, laughing about how it took so many men just to hold Avery back.
“It has been hours,” Aila murmured after Avery was far out of earshot. “Even fer normal labor.”
“Aye, it has.” Eloise agreed with a nod.
They all exchanged nervous glances, then Aila led the way up the tower with Fiadh close behind. Eloise followed with Scarlett at her heels.
They were in the towers of Laird Chattan’s castle, heading toward the chambers that Callie used for healing, though today, she was the patient rather than the healer.
As they stepped into the chamber, Eloise swallowed around a lump of fear in her throat. Callie sat upright in the bed, sweating profusely with her chemise disarrayed and her stomach heavily rounded. She breathed heavily, her nostrils flaring every few seconds. Beside her was a healer woman, holding her arm and trying to get her to breathe easily.
“How can one breathe through this pain?” Callie hissed angrily, with her dark hair wild behind her. “This is obscene.”
“Ye can dae it, Callie.” Scarlett hurried toward the bed. “If I did it, ye can too. Ye are much stronger than me.”
“I dinnae feel strong. Nae at all. I feel weak.” Callie bent forward, shifting to her knees on the bed. “Argh!” Another almighty cry of pain came from her.
Eloise laid a hand to her stomach, rather gladdened that no one had seen her reaction, for everyone was too focused on Callie.
“We need tae get her tae the birthing stool,” the healer woman, Theodora, urged. “Quickly. Help me.”
Eloise took one of Callie’s hands, as did Scarlett, pulling her out of the bed. Fiadh and Aila urged Callie to move her feet, practically walking her toward where a stool with part of the base had been cut out.
“That thing, it looks nae better for pigs tae give birth in.” Callie practically kicked the stool away, so strongly that Eloise hastened to right it again.
Is this how much pain it is? Oh God…
Eloise chewed the inside of her mouth, not wishing to say anything as they put Callie in the stool.
“Ye told me it was the best way tae give birth,” Scarlett reminded Callie as she stood before her, with her hands on her hips, her face betraying her outrage.
“Aye, aye, I ken. It’s rather different when ye actually have tae sit in this uncomfortable thing. Argh!” Callie squealed at the pain.
“Out of me way.” Theodora brushed them all to the side and dropped to her knees in front of Callie, reaching for her chemise. “Well, as there are so many of ye here, ye can make yerselves useful. I’ll need something tae swaddle the child, linens, towels. I need fresh water too. Fetch me some spiced caudle, as that will help soothe Callie too.”
“I threw the last cup of caudle at the wall.” Callie motioned to where a cup had been smashed against the wall, the damp patches still apparent.
“I shall bring ye another then,” Eloise said, attempting a smile as she hurried to the adjoining chamber full of Callie’s usual instruments and herbs. She hastened to prepare the caudle in a fresh cup, the water steaming as she took it off the fire to add to the spiced mixture.
As she stirred the ingredients together, she paused and glanced back into the main chamber.
Aila and Fiadh both held onto their sister, as Scarlett brushed her dampened hair back from her scalp.
“Ye can dae this, Callie,” Aila urged. “Ye ken ye can. Nay one stronger.”
“Come on, Callie.” Fiadh kissed her on the cheek. “All of this will be over in minutes, and then ye’ll have that bairn in yer arms. It will all be worth it.”
“God, I hope ye’re right,” Callie muttered sharply. “If this is how painful it is every time, I’m thinking of banning Avery from coming near me ever again.”
“Well, may I volunteer first that I shallnae be the one tae tell him that,” Scarlett jested, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
Once more, Eloise laid a hand to her stomach, thinking of the pain that Callie was going through.
Will it be this bad?
“Right.” Theodora paused as she kneeled in front of Callie, looking up from the edge of the chemise. “It is time.”
***
“He’s a mess,” Clyde remarked quietly to Murdoch as they picked up their weapons again.
“Aye, he is. Laird Chattan was just the same.” Murdoch jerked his head in Laird Noah’s direction, impressed by the calmness that the laird was showing now.
“This hardly seems like a wise way tae keep Avery calm though, does it?” Clyde laughed as he gestured to the broad sword he now carried.
“Can ye think of another way?” Murdoch chuckled as he watched Ian and Laird Noah each parry with Avery. Every time Avery tried to attack with his sword to get past them to the tower, they got in the way.
“Come on, yer sword skills will have tae get better than that. Ye’ve grown slack these last few months,” Laird Noah said with a deep laugh.
It summoned new energy from Avery, who launched himself at Laird Noah.
“Me turn, I think.” Clyde swiped his sword through the air.
“I thought ye’d had enough of being a soldier?” Murdoch reminded his brother.
Clyde had finished his commission for the king and had confessed to Murdoch that he had no wish to return. The last few months, Noah had seen sometimes in the dark moments just how haunted Clyde was from what he had seen in the war, then he’d smile and brush it off as nothing.
“I’m done fighting fer the king,” Clyde said with ease. “I’ll fight for causes I believe in now.” He winked before striding forward and joining Ian in parrying with Avery, driving him further back.
Murdoch caught sight of Avery’s footwork, noting something he’d learned long ago about Avery’s fighting style. He was good at drawing men forward, thinking he was on the back foot, where in fact, he wasn’t. Sensing the danger, Murdoch circled the group and adjusted the sword in his hand.
Avery did just as Murdoch predicted. He drew Ian and Clyde toward him, then swiped out suddenly, lunging and pressing his sword toward the both of them so that they were forced to back up into Laird Chattan and knock him from his feet. The three ended up bundled on the floor.
As Avery turned, ready to sprint back to the tower, Murdoch stepped in the way, with his sword lifted.
“In the name of the wee man,” Avery cursed loudly. “Ye were ready fer it, werenae ye?”
“Fought ye often enough tae ken yer tactics,” Murdoch said with a small smile. “Eloise said ye were just the same when ye fought as a child too. Ye like to lull people intae false feelings of security.”
“It worries me how much ye ken about me now after being married tae my sister.” Avery shook his head and laughed. “Ye are quite a changed man.” He gestured to his face, and Murdoch knew exactly what he was referring to.
I smile more these days.
“Avery? Avery!” Eloise’s voice was sudden.
Murdoch lowered his sword and turned to face his wife, warmth spreading through him as she ran across the cobbled courtyard, the skirt of her gown in her hands.
“Eloise? What is it?” Avery walked around Murdoch, sudden panic in his voice. “Is it Callie? The child? What has happened?”
Eloise stopped walking, bending forward as she caught her breath.
“Eloise!”
“Hold yer horses, Avery.” She breathed deeply and stood straight, a sudden smile erupting on her features. “Both are well. The bairn has just been born. It is a girl.”
Avery smiled at once, the relief so apparent that his shoulders softened.
“Dinnae try tae stop me now,” he said playfully over his shoulder to Murdoch and the others before he ran off, hurrying toward the tower.
As Laird Noah, Ian and Clyde gathered the weapons together, Murdoch moved toward Eloise. Despite the happiness of the movement, he could sense some uncertainty in her features.
Murdoch reached for her cheeks, gently cupping them as he kissed her softly.
“What is it? Is it…” He glanced down at her stomach. They were keeping it a secret for the time being, as Eloise wished to be certain everything would go well with their own child before she told others, but plainly, something was bothering her now. “Are ye well?”
“Aye, aye, I’m perfectly fine.” She smiled suddenly, her expression transforming as she laid her hands on her chest. “It was so emotional,” she said with a wistful tone. “I was so scared when I saw the pain Callie was going through, the frustration of it taking so long too, but then suddenly…” She sighed heavily. “It was as if none of that mattered anymore. The moment her bairn was in her arms, it was all worth it.” She stepped forward, curling herself into his chest.
Murdoch raised his arms around her, holding her near.
“I am nae afraid of what will happen when we have our own child now.”
“Good.” Murdoch kissed her through her hair. “I’ve seen how strong ye are, Eloise. With ye as its mother, that child will survive anything.”
She laughed softly and tipped her head up. Murdoch bent down and kissed Eloise, holding her to him for as long as he could.
I shall be a father.
An image entered his head of a small boy, perhaps with the wildness of Eloise’s red hair, but one with his eyes. It was such a thrilling image, as he taught the boy to ride a horse with Eloise watching on, perhaps holding another bairn in her arms, maybe even a girl this time. That image made Murdoch hold their kiss for longer still.
He thought back to the moment that Eloise had appeared on that loch bank and he couldn’t have been happier for the turn of events. Eloise’s presence that day had changed the course of his life. He would forever be grateful to her for it.
If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…
Elliot Sutherland, forced unwillingly into an arranged marriage to save his father’s life, forms a deep connection with Fiadh Mathieson. However, when she discovers this, their world crumbles. Struggling with the consequences of his choices, Elliot is torn between choosing Fiadh or saving his father’s life …
“Announcing my brother and his wife, Ian and Aila Chattan.” Laird Chattan raised his tankard at the front of the great hall. “Please, join me in toasting them. May ye two be as happy as ye both look now.”
“Here, here!” Raucous cheers went up around the busy feasting room as many raised their cups.
Ian lifted the tankard of mead to his lips and finished the remaining contents, his gaze fixed on his new wife beside him. The ceremony had been simple, though many had wanted to attend the wedding of the laird’s brother. What mattered most to Ian was that his friends and family had come, and, of course, that Aila had eagerly spoken her vows.
She looked stunning sitting beside him, dressed in a beautiful dark green gown that hugged her waist before flowing freely to the ground. A strip of clan plaid adorned her hip, matching the one on his shoulder, secured by the clan badge.
“Ye are beautiful,” he whispered in her ear as the celebrations resumed now that his brother’s toast was finished.
The center of the great hall cleared, and many took to the open space. The pipers struck up a lively tune, and the dancing commenced. Others focused more on indulging in food and drink.
“Ye are kind tae me,” Aila whispered, leaning into him as their hands found each other beneath the table. The touch warmed Ian to his core as she guided their clasped hands to rest on his thigh. No matter how many times they had made love in the past week, he always wanted her again.
“Ye have tae eat, Callie,” Fiadh suddenly called from the other end of the table.
“I dinnae want tae eat.” Callie looked distinctly pale as she rubbed her stomach.
“Aye, ye must.” Fiadh put a heavy trencher down in front of her full of smoked fish. Callie raised her hand and covered her face. Avery at once took the trencher away.
“What’s going on?” Ian called to them, curious.
“Our sister is refusing tae eat,” Fiadh said firmly.
“And now my older sister is back in my life, she is seeking tae tell me what tae do. I cannae eat.” Callie shook her head.
“Love, ye will just have tae tell them.” Avery waved a hand at her.
“Nae today. It’s Aila’s wedding day,” Callie hissed at him, clearly urging him to be quiet.
“Do ye want tae tell them?” he asked as he ate some of the smoked fish. “Or would ye like yer sister tae force ye intae eating this?”
She looked sick again and shook her head.
“Come on, tell us,” Aila said eagerly. “Something must be afoot.”
“I am nae in the mood for eating because I am a little nauseous. That is all.”
“Ah, aye, that is so easy tae brush off,” Ian said in jest. “And what is the cause of the nausea?”
He looked at Avery, noting the smile on his face.
Something more is afoot here.
Callie sighed loudly and nodded, clearly deciding it was time to reveal all.
“I’m with child,” she confessed.
“That’s wonderful!” Fiadh and Aila were on their feet so fast that Ian was left staring at the empty chair beside him.
“I lost my wife rather quickly, did I nae?” he remarked.
“I’ll be back soon.” Aila waved a hand at him in dismissal and ran around the table, then launched herself at her sister, as did Fiadh. Poor Callie started complaining she was being squished in the chair, though no one seemed to mind. Even Avery chuckled as he sat beside her, enjoying the fish himself.
“Well done, ye,” a voice caught Ian’s attention.
He turned to see Eloise standing on his other side. She’d moved from her chair beside her own sister, Scarlett, and come to see him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“For what?”
“What do ye think?” She laughed and nodded at Aila. “I had a feeling when ye told me of what had passed in those letters that ye felt more than just a curiosity for her.”
“Ye did nae. I did nae even ken. How could ye ken?”
“A woman’s intuition, I suppose,” she replied, tapping her nose.
“Intuition, eh?” Someone else joined them. Another voice joined them. Murdoch approached and stood behind Ian.
Ian couldn’t help but notice Eloise’s smile falter. She glared at Murdoch with intensity.
“What of a man’s intuition? Is that nae good for anything?” Murdoch seemed to take pleasure in trying to provoke Eloise. He leaned on the back of Ian’s chair, waiting for her response. Eloise, in her usual demure manner, averted her gaze from him.
“Cannae ye two call a truce for today of all days?” Ian interjected with a laugh. Over the past few days, he had witnessed how much they managed to get on each other’s nerves. Murdoch was cold, ruthless, and often downright rude and vulgar, something Eloise clearly despised. Her nature, on the other hand, was kind and welcoming. It meant that she couldn’t see what Ian saw in his friend.
He is a good man.
In contrast, Murdoch appeared frustrated that Eloise remained demure and modest, doing her best to resist rising to his taunts while keeping her distance.
“We have,” Eloise said simply.
“Nae enough, clearly.” Ian nodded between the two of them.
“Well, shall I be the bigger man between the two of us?” Murdoch cleared his throat and stood straighter, adjusting his suit.
“Ye are the man,” Eloise reminded him rather tartly.
“Well, well, ye noticed. I thought ye just saw me as a beast.”
“I did nae say the two were mutually exclusive.”
Ian chuckled into his tankard of mead, trying hard not to choke on the mixture.
“Here, allow me tae further our truce.” He offered his hand to Eloise.
“What’s that?”
“A hand. I am offering tae dance with ye, Eloise.”
“Oh, I…” She trailed off and looked at the dancers. It was a lively volta, with the ladies being thrown into the air by the men.
“I am nae so foul that ye cannae trust me tae catch ye. Come on.” He took her hand when she didn’t object further and led her away. Eloise cast a pleading look back at Ian, but he simply shrugged, uncertain of what he was expected to do.
For all of Murdoch’s brash ways, he would never drop Eloise in a dance.
Maybe the dance will do them both some good.
The chair beside Ian was occupied once again, and he looked at his wife, grasping her hand when he found her there and kissing the back of it. She smiled and leaned toward him, lowering her voice.
“Ye will nae believe what Callie just told me,” Aila was breathless.
“What is it?” he asked with sudden concern when he saw her eyes were glistening with tears.
“It is such a wonderful thing, I can barely contain it,” Aila murmured. “Callie and Avery have decided that if they have a girl, they shall name the child after me.”
“Truly?” He saw just how much it meant to her. She blinked madly, stopping tears before they could fall.
“They are in earnest.” She breathed slowly. “They have said it is their gratitude for when I saved them last year.”
“Well, ye did.” Ian remembered the story of how Avery and Callie had been locked in an outbuilding outside of the brothel as it was burning down. But Aila, courageous and swift, defied her father’s wishes, risking her own safety to rescue them. Without her bravery, they might have been lost forever in the engulfing flames.
“May the girl be blessed with the same happiness as ye are now,” Ian mused, his voice tinged with gratitude and fondness.
Aila’s eyes sparkled with joy as she leaned closer to him, the euphoria of the day radiating from her. “I pray for it,” she responded, her words filled with happiness. “I cannae bear the thought of this day coming tae an end.”
A mischievous glimmer danced in Ian’s eyes as he playfully waggled his eyebrows, teasing her with his thoughts. “What about the night? I have a few tricks up my sleeve that would bring an even wider smile tae yer face.”
Aila’s cheeks flushed, and a playful smile curved her lips. “Well, perhaps I will nae be so sad when the feasting concludes then.”
Ian’s determination flickered in his eyes as he took her hand, his desire to revel in every moment of celebration evident. “Ye will nae be sad at all. Come, my love, let us dance and celebrate with all our might.” He guided Aila to her feet, leading her gracefully around the feasting table. As they passed Noah and Scarlett, wrapped in their own world of whispered words and blushing affection, Ian couldn’t help but feel a swell of happiness for his loved ones finding their own bliss.
Amidst the swirling dance floor, Ian’s gaze fell upon Eloise, appearing somewhat adrift amidst the lively revelry. But in a surprising turn of events, Murdoch emerged, effortlessly sweeping Eloise into his arms and twirling her with unexpected grace. Murdoch, a burly figure to most, concealed a hidden talent in the art of dance, unknown to many.
With effortless finesse, Ian twirled Aila across the floor, their bodies moving as one, guided by the rhythm of their hearts. The dance left them breathless, their chests rising and falling with exhilaration as they leaned toward each other.
Aila’s voice carried a hint of mischief as she confessed, her eyes flickering with desire. “Perhaps I’ll be ready for the night sooner than I thought,” she whispered, her gaze tracing Ian’s form.
Ian’s desire matched hers, a hunger that resonated deep within him. “Then let us seize the moment and embrace the night together,” he responded, his voice laced with passion and devotion.
And so, hand in hand, Ian and Aila left the festivities behind, ready to immerse themselves in a night filled with love, intimacy, and the promises of a future entwined.
If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…
Eloise MacTavish, entangled in her father’s debts, seizes a risky opportunity to erase his financial burdens. All she has to do is pose as a fake fiancée to a man who has lost his previous wife-to-be to an accident and wants to avoid another wedding. Unbeknownst to her, her betrothed turns out to be no other than Murdoch Gordon—her nemesis, her forbidden temptation… and her brother’s closest friend. As their feigned affection deepens into genuine emotions, a chilling truth emerges: Murdoch’s late wife’s demise was deliberate. With danger lurking and history threatening to repeat itself, Eloise navigates secrecy, tangled emotions, and a looming peril from having her brother reveal her schemes…
Two months after Idalia & Bram’s wedding,
Strathnaver, Scotland
Idalia sat beside Mahala’s bed with the child’s favorite book in hand, reading her a chapter to help her sleep. Mahala lay covered in the bed, and she appeared to hang on every word that came out of Idalia’s mouth. Idalia read slowly, with the light from the candelabrum standing on the desk behind her.
Reading Mahala to bed had become a habit which both of them looked forward to every night. They had started it when Bran had gone off to war with Dunn to settle a border dispute. In the couple of months since getting married to Bran, she had discovered that Mahala had not had much of an education, nor had she been treated as a child at all.
While Idalia had expected it somewhat, seeing the reality of how Mahala was affected by being a captive in a military camp hurt her beyond words. She took it upon herself to restore Mahala’s childhood. While she didn’t think the damage would ever be completely reversed, it was still worth a try to give the girl a chance to forget all the things that had been done to her.
The first thing she noticed about Mahala was her strength and bravery. She never asked for help, no matter what the task, and several times, Idalia had had to go pull her out of a corner where she was hiding in the castle.
Idalia had begun teaching Mahala to read, and the child’s aptitude for it was encouraging. And so began their time reading together. In the absence of Bran, Idalia’s bond with Mahala grew at an alarming rate. Here was a child who wouldn’t trust her servants, but she had learned to trust Idalia completely.
Idalia filled their time together with activities, making a note of which activities Mahala showed more interest in. Mahala loved it when Idalia braided her hair, and she loved playing on the surrounding beaches. While she seemed fascinated when she saw the other children in the castle playing, she always refused to join them. Idalia took comfort in knowing she could not expect everything to change all at once.
She loved Mahala and made sure never to mention August’s name around her, as it had caused the child to tremble violently the last time. It had taken days for Mahala to regain her color, and Idalia had learned a valuable lesson.
“. . . And that was how the farmer began his journey to the sun with his pet chicken. The end,” Idalia read, shutting the book. She looked up at Mahala, who was smiling excitedly, clapping with her small hands under the covers. The sight always filled Idalia with happiness. Although Mahala had heard this exact ending a dozen times, she had the same reaction every time.
“How about if we try another book tomorrow night?” Idalia teased.
“But I like this one just fine,” Mahala said, giggling. “I would like to go to the sun someday . . .” Mahala’s voice was soft and wistful.
“If anyone can do it, Mahala, I’m sure it would be you,” Idalia replied, smiling.
Mahala turned in bed to face Idalia directly. “Can I call you mama?” she asked suddenly. “You are my mama now, aren’t you?”
Idalia covered her mouth in surprise and laughed softly. While the question caught her entirely by surprise, it also filled her heart with joy and happiness. She had wanted it from the first moment she was married to Bran but had not wanted to impose it on Mahala.
Idalia knew more than anyone just how much Mahala needed a mother in her life, and she wanted to answer that call with every part of her. However, she had wanted the girl to see her as such first. It had been difficult for her, hearing Mahala address her as Angel, but she had endured it because she knew those names were significant to Mahala as well.
“Yes, Mahala!” Idalia reached forward and stroked Mahala’s hair. “Yes, you can call me mama. You’ve been my child from the beginning.” Idalia swallowed her tears, not wanting to confuse the girl with an outburst of emotions. She instead leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Mahala’s forehead.
The girl yawned as Idalia tucked her in. “Good night, Mama,” she said softly as her eyes fluttered shut.
Idalia watched her with joy, resuming her seat beside the bed. She loved Mahala, and in that moment, she swore to herself that she would die first before she allowed any harm to come to her.
She settled into her chair and watched Mahala’s small form in the bed, her chest rising and falling as she slept. The both of them had come a long way, and Idalia couldn’t wait to tell Bran about her recent breakthrough.
They received a message that the campaign was over and that the troops were headed back home. She expected Bran any day, and in thinking about him, she realized just how much she missed him. Bran had informed her that he would be going out to war more and more, and she had given him her blessing. She had Mahala now to help keep her sane when Bran was away.
Idalia heard some noise from the courtyard down below and got up in annoyance. She wondered who could be making noise so late at night. Mahala slept lightly and oftentimes struggled to go back to sleep after she woke up.
She walked to the window and parted the drapes, then stifled a yelp of happiness. Riding at the head of a column of soldiers were Bran and Dunn. Bran had returned from war. Idalia felt bubbles in her stomach as she watched her mountain of a husband sitting his horse proudly, with the confidence of a thousand men.
Idalia lit a candle on Mahala’s table, then left with the candelabra. She placed it on a mantel in the hallway, and then rushed down the staircase. She and Bran had been married for a little over a month before duty had called him to the front lines. Now he was back, Idalia didn’t intend to lose another second.
She rushed out of the castle and ran down the front steps, just as the soldiers trooped into the castle yard. Bran saw her almost immediately and vaulted off his massive warhorse immediately. He picked her up mid-stride, turning her around in the air several times as she laughed excitedly.
He set her down and kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m glad to see I was nae the only person who was doing the missing,” Bran said teasingly. “It appears I was missed as well.”
“The whole country can burn down for all I care, Bran,” Idalia started. “But know now that you aren’t leaving this castle for the next three months. A woman needs her husband.”
Bran laughed and nodded. Together they climbed back up to their chambers, where Idalia helped Bran out of his war garb. He stumbled tiredly towards the tub in the corner and got into the cool water to have a quick bath.
Idalia got out of her night shift and lay naked in the bed, waiting for Bran. When Bran stepped out of the tub and saw Idalia, he barked in laughter. “Now, Idalia, I have only just returned from war. Do nae ye want to ken how that went?”
“You have enough time to tell me all about your mighty arm over the next three months,” Idalia replied with a straight face. “Now, however, you have a duty to me.”
Bran chuckled and tossed his towel to a nearby chair. “Since ye ask so nicely,” he said, climbing into bed beside Idalia. He pulled Idalia into him, and she loved how cool his body felt. He held the curve of her hips and placed a sweet kiss on her lips.
Idalia gasped expectantly. She had no idea how much she had missed his touch. Bran rolled his hand downwards and smacked Idalia’s derriere lightly, startling her. As they kissed, his hands explored tirelessly over her entire body. His probing hands filled Idalia with explosive currents, and she shivered as his fingers parted her legs and went searching inside her wetness.
Idalia moaned with satisfaction as Bran moved his wonderful mouth down to her breast, sucking her nipples hungrily. His fingers worked expertly inside her and mere seconds later, she bit down on her lip to stop from screaming as she felt her release.
Bran laughed quietly, a deep throaty sound that reverberated through Idalia’s body. He slid down till the tip of his hardness teased at the entrance to her center. He rubbed his tip teasingly across her wet surface, and Idalia squirmed as the sensation threatened to drive her mad.
Slowly, Bran slid into her. Idalia immediately saw stars, and a long wail escaped her mouth. Bran didn’t take her gently. He took her like a soldier, one who had been to war and away from his wife, ought to take her. Bran pursued his own climax and rammed into Idalia with reckless abandon.
Higher and higher she rose in mounting ecstasy, moaning his name, until at last, clutching each other tightly, they went over the precipice of pleasure together.
Bran lay down beside her and enfolded her in his arms. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him next to her.
“I love ye, Idalia.”
“I love you, Bran.”
She deserved this life. She deserved this wonderful husband. She deserved her beautiful daughter. She couldn’t wait for all the chapters left to be written in her life, and she looked forward to whatever life had in store for her.
If you want to know what lies ahead in our story, you may want to get the sequel…
Ewan MacGregor, torn between love and loyalty, is thrust into a precarious situation when his childhood friend, Adamina Leòideach, seeks refuge from an unwanted betrothal. Despite their deepening affection for each other, Ewan strives to keep his distance, knowing that succumbing to temptation will risk exposing his long-held secrets. And that the revelation will not only disgrace him to his own clan but also lead to losing Adamina forever…
