“I remember . . . how cold I was.” The exertion of speaking was starting to hurt, and she rested her head against him.
“You’re safe now. We brought you back to Glen Arrin.” There was a gruffness in his voice and a moment later, he sat up, tucking her into the bed. “When you’ve recovered, you’re going to wed me.”
“I am?” Her voice was weak, but his proclamation amused her. “You’re not going to ask me?”
“No.” He rested both hands on her shoulders. “If I have to chain you to my side, I’ll be wedding you. You won’t have a choice in this, Marguerite.” His expression had darkened, and she saw the suffering he’d endured over the past few days.
“I love you,” he said. The words washed over her, filling her with light that pushed away the shadows of the past. Callum’s eyes held the look of a man who would worship her for the rest of her life. And it was enough.
Lifting her hands to his face, she drew him down to kiss her. It was a kiss of welcome, of a promise to stay with him.
“I will marry you,” she promised. “Nothing would give me greater happiness.”
The wedding was delayed by the early birth of Laren’s twins. Marguerite was enchanted by the tiny infants, and when Alex handed her his newborn daughter to hold, she felt awkward and clumsy.
The girl’s head was no larger than her palm, and when she tucked the sleeping infant beneath her chin, she marveled at the soft skin. Callum came up behind her and drew his arms around her waist. “She’s a wee one, isn’t she?”
“She’s beautiful. I’m half-afraid I’ll drop her.”
“If you’re wanting me to, I could give you one of those,” he offered against her ear. “Tonight, after we wed.”
At the reminder, Marguerite’s face flushed. It had been weeks since she’d first lain with him, and she sensed that he would be insatiable once they were together again. She kissed the babe upon her forehead, and passed her back to Laren.
To Callum, she murmured, “I wouldn’t mind having a child.” Standing on tiptoe, she whispered in his ear, “I cannot wait until this night.”
She deliberately let her lips graze against his ear, and Callum took her hand, starting to lead her away. Marguerite laughed at his eagerness. “Not now,” she protested. “I want to go and visit with Nairna.”
“She can wait.” Callum continued walking, ignoring his brother and Laren. Marguerite blushed, for she’d only just regained her strength a few days ago. He wasn’t planning to . . . seduce her, was he? In spite of her attempt to remain calm, she wanted to feel his hands upon her, to surrender her body beneath his.
“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to sound calmer than she felt.
“To see the house I built for you.” Callum led her outside the fortress, into the hills. The sun was shining, and it would only be hours until the visiting priest arrived. Then, they could marry and enjoy feasting with the rest of the clan.
He led her past the small gathering of huts, toward the pathway that led into the forest. About a mile into the woods, she saw a small clearing with a newly finished thatched house. The smell of fresh wood shavings made her smile, and he led her inside, showing her the hearth and the bed against the far wall.
“When we have children, we’ll make it larger,” he promised. “But for now . . .” In his expression, she saw the shadow of regret, as if he’d wanted to give her more.
“It’s perfect,” she said, moving into his arms. And it was. She didn’t care that it was nothing but a simple home with four walls and a roof. It reminded her of the forbidden days they’d spent together in the forest, and she knew they could be happy here.
But though she drew her arms around Callum to kiss him, she couldn’t let go of the sense of unrest. She’d fought hard to love this man and share her life with him. Yet, the shadow of fear lurked within her.
His mouth came over her lips in a fierce kiss, his hands moving down her spine. “Tonight, you won’t sleep, Marguerite. For I’ll be inside you, showing you all the ways I love you.”
She couldn’t catch her breath as his tongue invaded, stroking hers with sensual promise. Her body seemed to melt into his, wanting more.
“I’m going to touch you all the ways I’ve been dreaming about, these past few weeks,” he swore.
The length of his body rose hard against her, pressing at the juncture of her thighs. She lifted her leg against him, her heart pounding faster as his hand moved under her skirts, feeling for the bare flesh. His rough palms moved over her bottom, and when he reached between her legs, she felt two of his fingers pushing inside her.
A ragged curse came from him as he rubbed her intimately. “You’re wet for me, Marguerite. God above, I could sheathe myself in you right now.”
In answer, she reached for his trews, stroking the thick heat of him through the wool. He withdrew and entered his fingers in a slow rhythm, making her close her eyes as the sweet torment claimed her.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “Look into my eyes while I touch you. I want to see you come apart.”
She clung to his shoulders for balance, a sigh escaping as her body strained against his touch. Over and over, he moved his hand, his fingers caressing deep within. The ecstasy was making her tremble, her breathing coming in short pants as he thrust again and again.
She moved against him, seeking the pleasure he was trying to give, until finally, his hand moved in a faster rhythm, shattering her apart. Her release was a shimmering ecstasy that convulsed within her. She reached for him, wanting desperately to give him the same fulfillment.
