and we’ll be married by noon, over a blacksmith’s anvil. Nae what ye dreamed about, I imagine.”
She frowned. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking like you think that I think you’re a second choice. That I’m disappointed. I’m not. I spent a very long time trying to deceive myself about what would make me happy, because I thought to be stuck into the sort of life where distraction was essential. And then I met you, and I realized the answer to my happiness was me being able to be myself. Not to have to pretend to be horribly proper, not to hold my tongue because the ridiculous person speaking happens to be a man. Because of you, I am me.”
That response called for more than a good morning, a getting dressed, and a running out to the coach. Niall glanced at his open pocket watch. It was barely past six o’clock. They had time. A wee bit of it, but enough to enable him to get to the blacksmith’s without showing just how much he wanted her even after three nights of deep, deliriously arousing sex.
Pulling on her bent elbow, he turned her flat on her back, kissing her openmouthed. “Ye say such sweet things, adae,” he murmured against her lips, shifting to splay both hands over her bare breasts. “And what a shame I forgot to pack ye any night clothes.”
As he flexed his fingers she moaned, shoving the covers away from herself, trying to pull him closer. “You remembered hair clips,” she reminded him huskily, reaching down to wrap her fingers around his cock and stroke him in a way that made his eyes roll back in his head. She was a quick learner, Amelia-Rose was. “I don’t think you forgot anything.”
“Sweet Saint Andrew, ye undo me, my lass.”
Moving over her, he lowered one hand to hook her knee and open her. Sliding his palms up the inside of her thighs, he dipped a finger inside her, her groan of pleasure mingling with his own. She was wet for him, ready. This lovely, perfect lass, who’d just last night taught him which fork to use for a roast rabbit, who delighted in soft sheets and Mozart, had chosen him. He had no other explanation for it but love.
Entering her, he thrust hard and fast, taking her over the edge as she gasped and clung to his shoulders. The sensation of her body pulsing around him pulled at him, tried to draw him with her, but he wasn’t ready yet. Instead he slowed his pace until she began to relax again, lifting her head to kiss him.
Then he withdrew, sitting up and folding his legs. “Come here, Amelia-Rose,” he beckoned, taking her hand and helping her upright. When she was seated, he took her ankles and pulled her forward, wrapping her legs around his hips and supporting her bottom with his legs.
“Good glory,” she whispered, looking down between them as his cock slid inside her again.
With his hands on her arse he pulled her forward in time with his thrusts, the bed beneath them squeaking rhythmically with their movements. Flinging her arms around his neck she came again, and this time he let himself follow, pushing in as deeply as he could and holding himself there as he spilled his seed inside her.
She kept her arms looped around him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. “I had no idea,” she panted, “that being ruined could be so invigorating.”
Niall laughed, holding her. “I’ll ruin ye like that anytime ye please.”
“I think I shall please a great deal, Niall.”
He kissed her hair. “I love ye, Amelia-Rose.”
Amelia-Rose lifted her head to look at him. “That name is a mouthful, isn’t it? I’ve always been fond of Amy. It’s more me, I think. Would you mind?”
“Mind nae twisting my tongue up every time I say yer name? Nae. Ye’re Amy now. It does fit ye, lass. Fresh and warm.”
A pebble struck the window of their second-floor room, and with a frown Niall slid out from under Amelia-Rose—Amy—and padded over to look outside. Gavin stood there, another rock in his hand.
Niall shoved open the window. “What is it?”
“I’ve been feeling a shiver creeping up my spine since dawn,” the groom said. “Let’s be off, Master Niall.”
He’d felt it, too, the sensation that everything had gone too smoothly. Not a sign of a suspicious redcoat, not a stranger coming up from the south by the same road and giving them odd looks, no hard-faced lads from Bow