*
Cormac had barelyseen his wife the remainder of the day, and she’d fallen into bed exhausted that night. The next morning, she was up before dawn, and he wondered what she was planning.
“Emma, come back to bed,” he murmured. “It’s too early.”
“I have something I have to finish,” she argued. “You can go back to sleep, and we’ll talk later.”
“What are you up to?” he asked. He flipped back the coverlet and walked over to her. “Come to bed.”
“I have a surprise that I’m planning for you,” she said. “I’m not quite ready with the arrangements.”
She’d piqued his curiosity, and it was then that he noticed a traveling trunk beside the window. “Are we going somewhere?”
His wife nodded. “We are.”
“Where are we going?” He slid his hands around her waist and bent to kiss the curve of her neck.
She shivered and turned in his arms. “I’m kidnapping you.”
Her statement was spoken with such nonchalance, he had to hold back a laugh. “Are you now,a stór? But is it really kidnapping if I’m your willing prisoner?” He moved his hands to her backside and pulled her close. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to press her against the mattress for he ached to be inside her.
“How long will we be gone?” he asked, kissing her again to remind Emma just how badly he wanted her.
“One week,” she answered. “There’s a small cottage just on—on the edge of Dunmeath.” She caught her breath when he drew his hands to cup her breasts through her nightgown. Her nipples were tight, and she gave him a light push. “Let me finish, Cormac. There will be time for this later.”
He was disappointed but let her go. “The roof leaks in that cottage, so I’m told. Are you certain you’re wanting to go there?”
“We’ll try it and see if the weather holds,” she said. Then, in all seriousness, she said, “We were alone by the sea, and your health improved with every day we were there. I want to see if it happens again.”
“We could also try again for a child,” he said, reaching to touch her face.
She blushed but nodded. “We could. If you’re feeling strong enough.”
“Before we go, I should meet with Lorcan to ensure that all is well with Dunmeath,” he said.
“No, your mother took care of everything. I told her I was kidnapping you.”
“And she didn’t protest?” He raised an eyebrow at that. While he knew his mother wanted his health to improve, he wondered whether the pair of them had plotted this together or whether his mother still resented Emma’s presence.
“I... didn’t exactly ask her permission.” She ventured a smile. “I have plans for you.”
He returned her smile. “I like the sound of that.”
“I’ll ring for your valet, and I’ll go to the adjoining room to have my maid help me dress,” Emma said. She turned away and added as she reached the connecting door, “And while we’re away, we’re going to find out why you’re becoming ill.”
He knew she was hoping to find answers, but he didn’t truly understand why he’d only begun to get sick after his brother Finn had passed away and not before. While it was entirely possible that someone was poisoning him, there were an equal number of reasons why it could simply be an illness.
But he wasn’t about to argue with his wife about spending time alone with her for a week. The responsibilities of Dunmeath would still be here when he returned, none the worse for waiting. And it was a better—and more pleasurable—use of his time to try again for an heir.
After he was dressed and came downstairs, he found Emma directing servants to load several hampers of food into a carriage. “We aren’t going to ride?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The carriage will drop us off, and the footmen will unload the food. They’ll return by the end of the week to fetch us.”
“So, you truly are kidnapping me,” he mused. “Lead on.”
His mother was nowhere to be seen, but he wondered how she and Emma had gotten on while he’d been recovering.
In a low voice, she murmured to him, “Actually, I needyouto lead the way to the carriage.” He offered his arm, and she took it while they walked outside. “Are you feeling all right?”
