A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,106

he would.

Indeed, he would.

His fingers dug into her waist, clutching her desperately as he rocked against her, until she thought she would die with pleasure.

Oh, my…

This wasn’t at all like Mrs. Grace had warned.

She had thought there must be pain, but no, indeed, there was none. There was only pleasure so intense she thought she might weep.

She adored the way his broad chest felt beneath her palms, loved the way his body melted into her own, loved the way he was looking at her right now…

They moved together in the tub, slowly at first, dancing a primal dance, hands exploring, mouths entwined, tongues exploring…

God’s truth, this was not how Callum had anticipated the holiday might go. It was hardly the way he’d anticipated returning home—with a new wife en tow. And yet, suddenly, in that instant, he knew in his heart that everything would be all right…

I would be a good year, indeed.

He vowed to honor his pledge—to give this woman no reason to leave him, ever, because he suddenly, without any doubt understood that without her he couldn’t be whole.

It had been so long since he’d lain with a woman that he came too quickly, giving her his seed, and then, because he knew instinctively that she didn’t understand what had happened, he rose from the tub lifting up his beautiful wife to carry her to the bed.

Once there, he made love to her, still hard as stone though he shouldn’t be, and he was stunned to discover that, even as he stroked and teased her to fruition, he hardened again. And this time, when he felt her body shudder with release, he covered her mouth with his own, greedy for the taste of her, and jealous enough not to want anyone else to overhear her cries of pleasure.

“Oh, my,” she said again, breathlessly, and he grinned down at her, reluctant to separate even still. He couldn’t stop, not yet, still sensitive with pleasure though he lifted himself enough so he could fill his eyes with her beauty. And when she smiled at him, her eyes so full of promise he came once more, the culmination so intensely pleasurable that he lifted his head back and stifled a primal howl.

Outside the chamber, all throughout the scullery and tavern, voices rose with huzzahs and shouts of “slàinte mhath!” It took Callum a full moment to realize they weren’t shouting hallelujahs for him… The clock must have struck twelve.

The first day of Hogmanay.

The first day of the rest of his life.

“Happy New Year, missus MacKinnon,” he said with a grin.

“Happy New Year,” she cooed.

Epilogue

One year later…

Callum MacKinnon cornered his wife at the top of the stairs, sweeping her into an embrace to keep her from going down to corral the children—not their own as yet, though he longed to hold a wee one in his arms, a sweet little girl, like her mother… with darling little freckles on her nose, a mischievous little grin more like his own, and an irrefutable sass she would come by honestly through both her parents.

“Callum,” she protested. “First footing will be upon soon… there’s still so much so do.” He loved that she was developing the barest hint of a brogue.

Together a full year this Hogmanay, he wanted to celebrate a wee moment just the two of them. Alice, their housemaid, along with Mrs. Grace to supervise her, was already well on the way to supplying the entire village with black buns. All he wanted from his lovely wife was two minutes alone to reveal his gift for her—his mother’s wedding band, hers to keep as the lady of Dunmore. “The neighbors can wait,” he said silkily, dragging her back into his arms when she tried to flee. “I’ve something tae give you, my beautiful wife.”

Her brows lifted, her attention piqued. They were still in the process of rebuilding Dunmore and their funds were tight as ticks on a dog in winter.

“A gift?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Aye, but dinna be so surprised, mo chroí.” The use of his Gaelic tongue still wasn’t entirely safe, but he had nothing to hide from his wife. “First I should ask… do ye mean to leave?”

Her brows drew together in confusion. “Leave?”

“Me,” he said, hitching his chin at her wrist, at the slip of ribbon she still wore hidden beneath her sleeve, knowing the answer before she gave it.

She squeezed him lovingly, lifting herself up on tippy toes to press her warm lips against his. “No, I’m afraid not,