“That doesnae matter to me. We will figure something out.”
“I would have ye pick out whatever ye want at the market.”
“Thank ye. We have time before the kirking to sort that out.”
“Are ye ready to marry me, lass?”
“Aye. So vera ready. I kenned we would one day, but I feared ma patience wouldnae last long enough.”
“Mine neither,mo ghaol.” Magnus gazed into the dark eyes he now knew so well. He’d memorized the tiny flecks of amber smattered within the whisky-brown irises. He knew the stories from the various Sinclair handfastings and weddings. He knew the vows they shared over the years. He would honor his time among them as a fosterling and now as a new member of the laird’s family. He recalled Liam and Kyla’s story and the vows they shared during their handfasting.
“I take ye, ma heart, at the rising of the moon, and the setting of the stars. To love and to honor through all that may come. Through all our lives together, in all our lives, may we be reborn that we may meet and ken and love again and remember.”
Saoirse’s eyes widened as she recognized them. Her soft smile confirmed he’d made the right choice. Kyla died long before Saoirse or any of her cousins were born, but she was alive in everyone’s memory.
“I swear by peace and love to stand, heart to heart and hand to hand. Mark, O Spirit. And hear me now, confirming this ma Sacred vow.” Saoirse spoke the same words Kyla had nearly fifty years ago. They finished their vows together.
“Ye are blood of ma blood, and bone of ma bone. I give ye ma body, that we two might be one. I give ye ma spirit, 'til our life shall be done. To thee, I plight ma troth.”
Neither moved as they soaked in the weight of their pledges, the significance of melding their hearts and souls. But it wasn’t long before the need to meld their bodies consumed them. With the privacy of the cave, they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. A kiss that would never be appropriate on a kirk’s steps or in front of their clan and family. They pulled at the length of plaid still wrapped around their wrists. They continued their kiss as they fumbled with each other’s clothes until frustration and amusement forced them apart.
“Yer hair is as light as the purest pearl, and yer eyes are the brightest topaz. Yer lips are richer than any ruby, and yer heart is gold. Ye are a jewel, precious but strong. Yer smile brightens ma day and lifts ma spirits. I will never take for granted that ye are invaluable. I will treasure ye and protect ye until ma last breath. I love ye.”
Saoirse recalled how her father compared her to a jewel the day they spoke with Brighde in her healing room. But it felt entirely different as Magnus spoke his reverent words.
“Ye are as sturdy and enduring as the Cairngorms. Like them, I ken ye’ll be there when I rise, just as ye will be when I’m abed. I ken ye are as unbendable as a mighty oak, yet ye will shade me from any danger. Ye have the strength of ten men, but I never fear ye. I trust ye just as I trust the sun will rise in the east and set in the west. I will stand beside ye and honor ye until ma last breath. I love ye.”
“Those may as well have been our vows. I will never forget them, Saoirse.”
“Nor will I forget what ye said.”
They finished undressing each other, and when they stood bare in front of one another, they reveled in what they discovered. Saoirse’s fingertips traveled over Magnus’s chest in a way they hadn’t as a healer. She had a privilege as his wife that she hadn’t only minutes ago. They traveled lower than she’d dared with her father in the chamber or when she examined him in her workroom. She marveled at the peaks and valleys that formed his abdomen. Muscles that flexed under her fingers, with each held breath. She sensed Magnus’s eagerness, but he didn’t rush her.
She looked between them and spied his rod for the first time as a woman lusting for a man. She’d known he was endowed, but she’d not imagined such a sight once someone—she—fully aroused him. Even in the garden and her workroom, she hadn’t appreciated its girth because it remained covered by his plaid.
“Do ye fear me hurting ye?”
Saoirse’s eyes leaped to Magnus’s. “Never,mo chridhe.” My heart. “I ken it likely will, but I dinna fear it. Why? Do I look afeared?”
“This is something ye’ve never done. I ken yer family is open aboot relationships between men and women, but I dinna ken what stories ye’ve heard from other women. I loathe the idea that I will cause ye any pain.”
“Magnus, I ken ye will never hurt me on purpose. I almost pity anyone foolish enough to try. I think yer guilt pains ye more than breaching ma maidenhead will pain me. I ken it will only hurt the one time. And I dinna doubt ye will make every time wonderful.”
Magnus nodded, and Saoirse noticed his relief. She wrapped her hand around his rod and stroked, like she had before. Magnus’s hands went to her backside and pressed her closer until his right hand slid between her thighs. His fingers traced her seam, tantalizing her as she grew damper. His left hand raised one supple breast to his mouth as he leaned forward. His tongue circled her nipple just as his thumb circled her pearl. He nipped and drew upon it until her nipple tightened. He wrapped his mouth around her breast and suckled, his tongue flicking the turgid nub. Her head fell back as her spine arched. Her free hand gripped his shoulder to keep her balance, but she knew he would never let her fall.
“Saoirse, everything aboot ye is perfect. Ma eagerness scares me. I dinna want this to end before I pleasure ye, and I still worry that I will hurt ye.”
“And if ma eagerness embarrasses me as a maiden?”
“I dinna ever want ye to feel embarrassed aboot what we share.”
“Then dinna ever be scared.” Saoirse’s mouth snagged his, and her tongue darted into his mouth, luring his back into hers. When it slid past her teeth, she sucked gently. He squeezed the breast he was kneading as a groan rumbled within his chest. It sent a spike of excitement through Saoirse to know she satisfied him. “Magnus, I’m close.”
She felt the throb in her pearl, then the tightening in her core as her sheath ached. He redoubled his efforts, and she cried out, unconcerned that anyone might hear her.
“I want to hear ye each time, Saoirse. I want to ken ye want me as much as I want ye.”
“I do. Magnus!”
