“Lovely,” he said, his hand brushing over her mound. The sudden touch caused Bridget’s body to arch, begging for more, and he growled low in his throat as he touched her again.
It was more than what they had done in the hut. He could see her, and Bridget wanted him to.
Irvine bent his head to capture her lips, and she moaned against his lips as he touched the very center of her, the place that ached for his touch. Her hands touched his bare skin; she felt him flinch under her touch but didn’t move away. His other hand cupped her breast through her shift, and Bridget was taken aback by the sudden sensation pooling in her stomach, her body begging for more. She remembered the release he had given her last time, and that was what she wanted.
What she craved.
His hand started to move insistently against her mound, and when he broke their kiss to place his mouth on her stiff peak, Bridget cried out, the sensation now coursing through her veins. She felt as if she had been sent to float on a cloud, her body sated, unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
Irvine let out a ragged breath as she heard him rustling around with his kilt before settling back between her thighs. “This may hurt,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her brow. “But only for a moment. Know that it will pain me tae see ye in pain, lass.”
Bridget opened her eyes to find Irvine staring down at her, worry on his face. “I trust ye,” she stated, sliding her hands down to his forearms. “I know ye will never hurt me.”
He shuddered; she felt him probing at her entrance, and she lifted her hips to urge him onward. When he did, there was only a sharp prick of pain that made Bridget’s eyes water before another sensation took over.
Irvine was inside her.
“Och, Bridget,” he groaned, hanging his head. “Ye’re so...ye feel so good.”
He did as well. Bridget didn’t know what to expect, but it hadn’t been this—this completeness between them.
This was what it meant to be in love.
When Irvine started to move, her body reacted thusly, their cries intermingling from their marriage bed.
Back in the great hall, Lisbeth fell into a chair with a grunt, her feet throbbing from all the dancing she had been doing. The hall was now starting to clear out since the bride and groom had snuck up the stairs without anyone knowing, and their clan was starting to make their way to their beds.
“Och, lass, I’m tired,” her husband, Will, stated as he sat in the chair beside her. “Just carry me tae our bed.”
Lisbeth laughed. “As if I could lift ye, ye burly Scot.”
He gave her a quick grin. “The wedding was nice.”
Sniffing, Lisbeth forced back the sudden swell of tears. She had already shared enough tears over the marriage of her son to the wonderful lass, proud that he had stepped up and taken the lairdship as he should have from the beginning.
“Aye, he’s happy.”
“And laird,” Will said proudly. “I cannae believe that this is our life, Lisbeth.”
She couldn’t either. They had come a long way since the moment she had laid eyes on him all those years ago, and though many things had changed, their love for one another hadn’t. In fact, it had only grown in her eyes.
“Did ye talk tae yer sister?” Will asked after a moment, the great hall growing silent with every passing second.
“Aye,” Lisbeth sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “Something aboot mah niece missing for weeks. She wanted tae stay for the feast and talk with Irvine, but she didn’t have it in her heart tae do so.”
Will’s jaw worked. “I told her that we would do all that we could tae find her. Irvine is already informed about the situation, and he has acted accordingly.”
Lisbeth swallowed hard, thinking about her niece and how her sister had been devastated at the fact that she couldn’t find her. She hadn’t provided much detail, but the panic in her eyes told Lisbeth all that she needed to know. She, too, had felt the same helpless feeling when Irvine hadn’t returned from the farm, thinking and fearing the worst of her only child’s fate.
They would help, of course. They were more than allies; they were family. And family helped where they could. Irvine would think no different in terms of helping his aunt.
“Well,” Will said, pushing out of the chair, “can I tempt ye tae come tae our chambers, lass, and forget aboot everything until the sun rises?”
Lisbeth accepted his hand, and he pulled her out of the chair, right into his arms. “I dinnae know,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Wot do ye have tae tempt me with, Scot?”
His grin was wicked as he brushed his lips over hers lightly. “I can think of a thing or two that ye might be interested in.”
Yes, she imagined he could.
Before she could respond, Will picked her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. “Wot are ye doing, ye daft fool!” she squeaked out, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
He smirked, striding toward the stairs. “I’m carrying ye up the stairs since ye dinnae wish tae do the same for me.”
Lisbeth rolled her eyes but pressed her face into the curve of his neck, breathing in his scent. She loved Will fiercely, and nothing would ever separate them, not even the promise of death in the end.
