The Highlander's Christmas Countess (The Lairds Most Likely #8) - Anna Campbell Page 0,39

next time he thrust into her, he reached down between her legs. She released a breathy cry and shuddered across into ecstasy. She clenched tight around him. He shifted in and out once more, then gave himself up to her with a shuddering groan.

She was shaking when he slumped exhausted on top of her, burying his face in her shoulder. Through his blissful languor, he felt her caress his hair with a tenderness that made his heart ache.

“My wife,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Yes, your wife,” Kit whispered and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her naked body.

Chapter 13

The Christmas Eve ball at Lyon House was in full swing. Kit glanced around as Quentin led her onto the floor for their second waltz of the night. People had gathered from all over the Highlands for the elegant event. She’d met so many of Hamish and Emily’s friends and neighbors and family, she’d completely lost track of who everyone was. Not that her mind was on anyone except her handsome bridegroom in his black velvet coat and plaid kilt, the same clothes he’d worn at their wedding ceilidh yesterday.

The ball had transformed into a celebration to mark their marriage. Now midnight approached and the moment she turned twenty-one. She was almost free of Neil, and she was married to the man she wanted. Even better, it turned out that Quentin wanted her, too. After so many years of fear and unhappiness, she could hardly believe that such joy existed. For so long, she’d been afraid to hope, but tonight at the most joyous season of the year, hope rose in an invincible tide.

Quentin smiled at her. He’d smiled at her all night, as if he could hardly believe his luck that she was his wife. Any doubt she’d had that this was purely a marriage of convenience had long faded. After their glorious hours together last night, she was convinced that their union had begun just right, and the bond they built between them would only strengthen as the years went on.

Perhaps she already carried the next MacNab heir. If she didn’t, it wasn’t for want of trying. Warmth flooded her, as she recalled Quentin’s passion and gentleness last night – not to mention twice this morning before they made a late appearance at the breakfast table. Then before they dressed for the ball, he’d done his husbandly duty once more.

“If you keep looking at me like that, you won’t be downstairs when the clock strikes midnight,” Quentin growled, sweeping her into his arms for a dizzying turn as the lilting music swelled. Around them, the dance floor was crowded with couples dressed in the height of fashion. The ladies sparkled with jewels, and the men were resplendent in their vivid plaids.

Kit had never had a season, although she’d had dancing lessons in preparation for one. Waltzing in Appin Castle’s ballroom with a stout dancing master, while her governess thumped out a tune on the pianoforte, couldn’t compare to swirling around amidst a glittering crowd, while the man she loved held her in his arms.

She gave him a saucy smile that she’d never have managed a day ago. “I don’t mind.”

“It would be a pity to miss out on marking the moment when you’re finally out of Neil’s control.”

“I’ve been out of Neil’s control since I married you.”

“Doubly free, then.”

“I’m almost grateful that Neil was such a swine,” she said, her voice bubbling with teasing humor.

“That can’t be true.” Quentin’s hands tightened on her waist, as he brought her too near for propriety. But most of the couples around them danced in close embrace, including Hamish and Emily. Kit said a silent prayer that her marriage to Quentin thrived like theirs.

Her smile broadened. She’d been grinning like a cat with the cream all night. So had Quentin. She’d caught frequent looks of indulgent amusement, as the other guests noticed her bedazzlement.

“Oh, it is,” she said solemnly, daring to slide her hand along his shoulder to caress his earlobe. “Unless Neil had tormented me into running away, I’d never have met you. That would be a crying shame.”

She watched his expression soften. Then she saw nothing but stars when he kissed her quickly. “In that case, we must call our first child Neil.”

She grimaced, hardly believing that she felt safe enough to joke about the man who had made her life such a misery. “That might be a step too far.” She paused, too elated to stew on