If she did not make haste, she might be responsible for the end of a clan, and these people had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her. They had accepted her from the first moment, and she’d found herself valued and listened to. She was even making friends and coming out of the shadows she had hidden in for far too long. Shadows she’d become desperate to find and hide in to escape Peter.
Moira secretly watched Rory from the corner of her makeshift desk in the back of the library. The lovely little piece of furniture had been moved from one of the guest rooms, so she could read while enjoying the view of the rolling sea and cliff side rather than reading on the floor as she’d done when she’d first arrived. Rory sat opening correspondence. She’d discovered many of his quirks and what they meant. All in all, she was enjoying getting to know her husband.
‘What has you frowning so?’ she asked.
He paused and looked up at her through the gaps in the shelving. He smiled at her. ‘Are you watching me?’ he teased.
‘Aye,’ she admitted. ‘You are a handsome man and you are my husband. ’Tis no crime.’
A sly smile curled his lips and the furrow in his brow relaxed as he closed the letter and rose from his desk. ‘Nay, it is not a crime, but now I am curious as to why.’ He lifted an eyebrow at her and tilted his head.
She shrugged. ‘No reason.’
She smiled and faced her window again and gasped. She flattened her palm against the glass. ‘The first snowflakes! I must go outside.’ She snapped the book shut on her desk and rose in such haste that her chair almost clattered to the floor.
He laughed, glancing at the wall clock. ‘’Tis almost dark, Moira. Let me come with you.’
‘All right, then. Let’s hurry. I don’t wish to miss a flake!’ She grabbed his hand and tugged him along.
They rushed along the hallway and Rory donned his overcoat and hat and then helped Moira into her cloak. Flipping up the collar of his wool coat, Rory smiled at her. ‘Shall we?’
‘Aye,’ she answered, slipping her arm within his own and following him out the back door of Blackmore. The light dusting of snow on the ground swallowed the sounds of their footfalls as they jogged along the hillside. The sunset was a myriad of bright pinks and purples as the snowflakes blew about them. The snow intensified and began to lay, covering the cold ground quickly.
Moira stopped, tilted back her head and opened her mouth to the sky, catching the cool frozen flakes on her tongue. His laughter echoed. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Enjoying my first snowflake of the winter for good luck.’
‘Then so shall I.’ He tipped his head back and his hat tumbled to the ground.
‘You have lost your hat, my laird,’ she jested, picking up his cap. She stealthily shovelled some snow in it and put it on his head, tapping it into place.
Snow popped out of the sides of his hat and down his face. ‘You little minx,’ he muttered. He yanked the hat from his head, shook out the snow and gave chase.
Moira laughed and dodged his advance. She’d had much practice escaping the revenge of her siblings in snow battles in the past. After a small chase around the hillside, he finally captured her by the waist in the small copse of trees surrounding the chapel. They tumbled to the ground laughing. After their laughter subsided he looked down at her, his gaze heavy with meaning, and kissed her.
To her surprise, she kissed him back eager for the touch of his lips on hers and soon the kisses deepened. She wound her fingers in his damp hair and savoured his warmth and strength above her and the cool, solid ground beneath. Tingles of snow cooled her face as his caresses banked a fire within her. In the blink of an eye, she wanted him, desired him, and found she was no longer afraid of being intimate with her husband.
The revelation stole her breath even more than her husband’s touch. Too soon, he pulled back and smiled at her. ‘Best we go in before we freeze to the ground and become covered by snowfall.’
‘And what if I said I’d rather not,’ she whispered, dragging her thumb across his lower lip.
He stilled, his eyes wide, studying her face as if he were attempting to make sense of her nonsensical implication. Despite the growing shadows as the sun passed its responsibility to the moon and the snow swirling above him, she spied the uncertainty in Rory’s face. ‘I fear I do not trust my ears.’ He ran a hand along her cheek. ‘I think my desire and want of you has made me addled.’
She laughed. ‘I am asking you to make love to me, husband. Is that plain enough for you?’
His eyebrows threatened to rise into his hairline. ‘Here? Now?’
‘Aye,’ she answered. ‘’Tis time.’
‘You are sure. I don’t wish to rush you,’ he stammered, running a hand through his hair and shifting his weight onto one side.
‘If you do not wish it, then we do not have to,’ she answered.
‘Nay, nay,’ he rushed out. ‘I have never longed for a woman as much as I do you, Moira, and the fact that you are my wife makes such desire even more exquisite.’
His muscles tightened, and she could feel the thrumming need pulsing through him as it matched her own. She removed a glove and slid a hand between them and under his tunic until she could splay her palm flat along his bare chest. He trembled against her and closed his eyes. A small curse of pleasure echoed through his clenched teeth. He released a breath and set his glazed, hooded eyes upon her.
‘Then, wife, I shall give in to your command,’ he murmured, leaning over her and pressing a trail of urgent and swoon-worthy kisses along her neck. ‘Otherwise, what sort of husband would I be?’
