He escorted her to the wingback chair beside the hearth, the one facing the bed. Even though he ached to possess her, longed to touch her, he didn’t wish to behave like a rutting bull.
After settling into the chair, she stared at the bed while chewing on her bottom lip, as if worried about what was to come.
“Would you care for a drink? I have port, brandy, whisky?” He fetched his glass, went to the cabinet, then turned and offered her a sheepish smile. “I chose whisky this evening.”
“Aye, a wee dram ofuisge beathawould not go amiss.” She dragged her attention away from the bed and frowned at him. “Ye always drank port or brandy at the inn. Why whisky now?” Her brows arched higher. “Ye canna be a virgin too. Not what with being married once before—can ye?”
The refreshing purity of her openness made him laugh. “No, my dear. I am not a virgin.” He handed her the glass filled with a generous splash of Scotland’swater of life.“I simply fear…” He couldn’t finish. Even the words caught in his throat, choking him with dread. He feared driving her away more than he had feared anything else. What if she wasn’t ready? What if the curse caused him to hurt her?
She leaned forward as if ready to hear his secret. “Ye fear what, Ross?”
He shook his head and turned away, unable to explain.
“Dinna give that foolish curse more strength than it deserves,” she advised gently.
He turned back and risked easing closer, close enough to breathe her in, filling his lungs with her delicious scent. Heaven help him, he could find her if struck blind. All he needed was the fragrance of her warmth. A sultry warmth that made himswallow hard and struggle to maintain control and take his time—for her sake. “How can you be so wise, my dear?”
“I am a woman,” she said with a teasing grin. “Never underestimate us.”
“I do not think I shall ever risk doing that.” He downed his drink and set the glass aside. The burn of the whisky was nothing compared to the inferno within him.
She sipped her whisky, set it aside, then rose from the chair. “I shall have the rest later—after.”
“After?”
“Aye, after.” Ever so slowly, she untied the ribbon at the throat of her chemise, pushed it off her shoulders, and let it fall into a frothy pile of linen and lace around her feet. “Please dinna think me brazen,” she said with a pleading softness. “But ye are the first man who ever made me feel the need to be held ever so close.”
The candlelight set her aglow, like a sculpture of a goddess come to life. She made no move to cover herself, stepping toward him with such trust and hopefulness that he nearly dropped to his knees. She wet her lips and darted a gaze down his clothed body. “I have only seen unclothed men in paintings—or once when no one else could help old Maud prepare her Gunther for burial.”
With a gracelessness that almost made him ashamed, he tore off his shirt, kicked off his boots, and shucked his breeches. It was then that his lack of romance and seduction of her hit him hard enough to make him hang his head. He had done better by Lotilda on their wedding night—at least, somewhat better. The needs and wants of his heart had not been nearly so troublesome then. What the devil was wrong with him? He should pay homage to his precious Harmony, let her know how he cherished her.
He slowly shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “I beg your forgiveness, dearest wife. You deserve so much better.”
She stood there with her fingers pressed to her mouth, trying not to stare openly at the part of him that was most eager to meet her. Her focus finally lifted to his face, and she frowned. “I dinna understand. What do you mean by ‘I deserve so much better’?” Her cheeks flushed a brighter red, and she shifted her gaze aside. “Ye appear verra nicely formed to me.”
“I speak of romance, my love.” He closed the distance between them, trailed his fingers along her jawline, then slid them into her gloriously silky hair. “Seduction,” he whispered as he leaned in and softly brushed a kiss across her barely parted lips. “You deserve to be given an experience of sheer bliss, my lady.”
As she worked her mouth to accept his kisses, she ran her hands up his bare chest and wrapped her arms around him. “But this is quite nice, husband. Quite nice, indeed.”
“It is, at that,” he said as he pulled her closer, tightening his embrace until her softness molded against his hardness. “I swear to do my very best to make it even better—even though this is your first time.”
She smiled up at him. “I know ye will, love. I trust ye.”
Love and trust.Heaven help him. She had used those words, even after all his clumsy ways and finding out about the curse. This woman was amazing, and he would do his damnedest to make her happy all the rest of her days. The genuine certainty in her eyes spurred him onward. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.
She slid her hands up his arms and pulled him to her as he placed her among the pillows.
“Make me your wife,” she whispered, “in more than name only, aye?”
“Aye, my love,” he said. “Tonight, we become one.”
*
A loud purringechoed through the cozy darkness of the bedroom dimly lit by the lone candle on the mantel.
“I cannot believe that damn cat dared to show up in here now.” Ross shifted beneath her and lifted his head. “Leopold! Back to the attic. Now is not the time.”
Harmony couldn’t help but giggle as she hugged her arm tighter around her husband’s chest and her bare leg around his middle.Her husband. In more than name only. At last, she was a wife, and God willing, someday she would be a mother. She patted his chest. “Live moggies do as they please. I canna imagine the ghostie ones being any different. At least neither Miss Nettie nor Mr. Edgar showed up to join us.”
