“Ronan, if I must, I will spend every day for the rest of time reminding ye that ye are all that I want. Ye are a mon I respect and admire. I grievously underestimated ye in the beginning, and I will always wish I hadnae been so judgmental. Yer father may have been earnest in his conversation with ye, but ye havenae said aught that makes me think he judged ye as hard as ye judged yerself. Nay one thinks ye’re a failure but ye. I will do what I can to reassure ye, but ye must decide for yerself whether ye will let go of this. I ken it’s easier said than done, but ye must try. We canna be happy together if ye fear aught ye say or do is wrong. Think aboot this: if ye were such a miserable failure, why would I have fallen in love with ye?”
“I dinna ken. I hadnae thought of it like that.”
“If ye were such a miserable failure, would I have been begging ye to touch me more? Would I have climaxed with just the feel of ye? Would I have climaxed again as soon as ye moved within me? To me, ye succeeded.” Abigail grinned as she flexed her hips and grasped his buttocks. “Let’s see if I can be such a success.”
Ronan lowered himself onto his forearm, his free hand kneading her breast before suckling it. There were only gasps and brief words of encouragement until they leaped over the precipice together. Abigail blinked several times as her body registered the feel of a man spending within her. They kissed languidly as Ronan settled himself on her, careful not to suffocate her with his greater mass. He brushed away hair that stuck to Abigail’s temples.
“Will ye let me stay?” Abigail asked softly.
“Ye willna be out of ma arm’s reach until at least midday tomorrow. And I may reconsider and insist ye remain until the new year,” Ronan teased as he kissed the tip of her nose. Abigail bit her bottom lip as she glanced at the door where they’d begun their lovemaking, then at the bed.
“I hope ye dinna regret nae waiting until our wedding. I should have thought better of it and left. Nae in anger, but from respect.”
“Abby, we signed the betrothal documents. Ye are ma wife. We just consummated our marriage. We can have a kirking if ye wish, but it isnae required.” Ronan hoped it wouldn’t upset Abigail to realize that they’d—albeit without intention—became husband and wife.
“I’m really yer wife?” Abigail beamed so brightly that Ronan was certain she illuminated the entire chamber.
“And I’m yer husband,” Ronan nodded. “Assuming yer brother doesnae kill me.”
“Bah,” Abigail wafted her hand. “Maude wouldnae let him. She chose this chamber because it’s over mine. She kenned before we did how this eve would turn out. She kenned nay one can hear us.”
“I pray ye’re right. I dinna wish to leave ye a widow before the sun sets,” Ronan smiled ruefully.
“If it’s all right with ye, I’d still like to have our kirking on Christmas,” Abigail asked tentatively, but she gained more courage as she noted the joy in Ronan’s eyes. “But I dinna plan to act like yer betrothed while we wait. I intend to enjoy every wifely duty I have.”
Ronan rolled over when Abigail pressed upward. She straddled his hips as she began to move. Ronan’s sword slid back into her sheath, and Abigail spent the rest of the night showing Ronan each of those wifely duties.
Thirteen
Abigail stretched and reached her arm behind her to wrap around Ronan’s neck, his warm body pressed against her back. She knew he woke before her, but he hadn’t moved to avoid disturbing her. As she shifted, she felt his cock brush against her backside, then rest between her globes. She recalled how it felt when it did the same thing as they hid behind the tapestry in the library, but now there were no clothes in the way.
“Ronan,” Abigail moaned as the hand that rested on her belly slid up to cup her breast. She arched, pressing her breast against his palm and her hips back against his. Ronan was propped up on his elbow, watching each of Abigail’s reactions to feeling his touch. He'd woken hard as a pike, more so than any other morning of his life. He was tempted to wake Abigail, but they’d gotten nearly no sleep that night. He feared Abigail would be sore, but her arm lowered from around his neck until she could reach back to grab his buttocks. She rocked against him, and his intuition told him the next way they could couple.
Ronan lifted Abigail’s leg until his cock slid against her entrance. When she mumbled, “mmm-hmm,” he pulled her back as he angled himself to thrust into her. The arm that propped him up slid beneath her to cup her breast as his other hand caressed her mons. She’d taught him what she liked, so he found the button filled with thousands of electrified nerves. He rubbed as he rocked into her. But it wasn’t long before they both grew unsatisfied with not looking at one another, holding one another. Ronan pulled back as Abigail twisted around. He eased his weight above her as her knees squeezed his hips. It was with a shared groan that he entered her again.
“Abby, I’m glad I waited. I’m glad you’re the only woman I’ll ever share this with.”
“Please believe me when I say the past feels so long ago that it’ll be easily forgotten. You fill every one of my senses, and these are the only memories I want.”
“I love you, and I’m overwhelmed by that. I never imagined I would love a woman like I do you, love any woman.”
“I thought I understood love. I thought I knew. I’ve seen Maude and Kieran. But now I get it. Now I’m certain. Make love to me.”
Ronan increased the force and speed, making Abigail grow breathless as she met each of his thrusts. Their bodies grew slick, sliding against one another in unison. Ronan held Abigail against him, and he felt them breathing in time with one another. He wanted to believe their hearts beat the same rhythm. As he gazed into Abigail’s eyes, he knew he would do anything to keep his wife happy that they’d joined their lives together. He silently pledged to show her every day what it meant to have a husband who valued and appreciated her. When her body tightened, and her hands gripped his backside as she ground her mons against him, he spilled into her once more. There was no going back. They were married, and neither would let the other go.
“I suppose we should make an appearance belowstairs,” Abigail said around a yawn as Ronan gathered her in his arms. She now lay sprawled across his chest. His fingers danced along her spine.
“No one would fault you for having a lying in. It was an arduous journey in winter. They’ll understand that you’re fatigued.”
“And when a strapping warrior like yourself doesn’t show up?” Abigail looked up and grinned. She ran her hand over the peaks and troughs of his abdomen.
“Do that some more, and they won’t see us until February.”
Abigail winked as she moved to lay her narrower body over his, but a knock at the door interrupted them. She smiled unremorsefully as she huffed, then she put her finger to her lips. She would wait out whoever was rude enough to interrupt her love nest.
“MacKinnon, I ken ye’re in there with ma sister. I wouldnae come within a league of this door if a messenger hadnae arrived for ye.” Kieran pounded on the door again. Ronan sighed, wishing with more conviction than he ever had that he wasn’t a laird. It was rare that he had that sentiment, but knowing he had to climb out of bed and away from Abigail made him want to abdicate that very moment.
“Go,” Abigail whispered. She had no fresh clothes or robe in the chamber, so she donned her chemise and pulled Ronan’s spare plaid around her shoulders while Ronan wrapped his plaid around his waist. He forewent his leine, seeing no point to pretending he had been dressed. He glanced back at Abigail before opening the door a crack.
