20
Erica was nervous, and being nervous made her very talkative.
“So, Jamie has confessed all? And it was Robert who burned yer mither’s house because he knew Laird Alastair was settin’ to marry Brigette after his wife died? Yer faither was accurate when he called them poltroons.”
It was not the sort of conversation recommended for beddans, but Erica could think of nothing else to say.
Only last week, she’d had a dirk pressing into the skin of her neck but had trusted Finn enough to drop to the floor as he had commanded her to do. She had managed to roll out of the way, and none of the gore had splattered onto her. Erica tried not to think about the events of that day too much because it might cause her to believe that Finn was as adept at magic as his mother was. Only his wand was a sword, not a staff!
When he had come to her as a warrior and guide all those days ago when she was a lass living with her parents, Erica had no idea what that word meant. Warrior. Now she knew that crossing swords with a Highland warrior like Finn meant certain death. He was lethal with weapons and had such an excellent grasp of human nature that it was uncanny. And now he was her husband.
The blood had not yet dried on his sword when Finn had asked Laird O’Donnell for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Erica’s father had not said much. How could he? Not only had he watched as Finn saved her life, but his stipulations were met. She was marrying the son and heir of a laird.
The wedding ceremony was simple and plain. Erica was dressed in a green dress, which highlighted her sweet brown eyes, while Finn wore a kilt and a shirt with a badge of the emblem of the Buchanan clan. When he saw her entering the chapel, his mouth fell; she truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever witnessed, and today she would become his forever.
* * *
Father John married them,and when they shared their vows, Erica was nearly crying from happiness. When they kissed, she felt everything around her just passing by; she was lost in the moment, in his lips, in his scent. Hundreds of hands started clapping, and people were shouting. Finn and Erica looked at them and smiled before they left the chapel, together, hand in hand.
* * *
The feastat Buchanan Castle was one of the biggest, with lairds and representatives of clans from all the Highlands coming to pay their respects to the newlyweds, but also to Alastair Buchanan, who found his son after so many years.
And now it was their beddan night…
Finn did not answer Erica but gave her that charming smile of his that had made her start dreaming about him at the start. The fire blazed high in the hearth.
All Finn said was, “D’ye no’ find that shift gown ye are wearing a wee bit warm? Not that it does nae suit ye, lass, but I think I would prefer to see ye without it.”
And on saying those words, he let the belt holding the plaid around his waist drop to the floor. His body glinted in the light of the flames, making him look more like a hero from the old tales than an ordinary man.
Erica had never seen such a perfect body before—the golden tint of his skin, the ice blue of his eyes, the narrow waist muscles at the sides slanting down like arrows pointing to where her enraptured gaze wanted to look, his torso rippling and bulging with finely honed tendons.
“I don’ want to,” Erica said. “I’m too ordinary compared to ye, Finn. They don’ tell any fabulous tales about me, do they?”
That made Finn shout with laughter. He climbed into bed with her and shifted over to her side, pulling her toward him with one arm. She nestled against him, giving a little sigh.
“Ye are everything a man could wish for, Lady Buchanan,” Finn said, his other hand slowly moving the hem of her nightgown up her thighs. “Ye’re spirited as a wild mare and thoroughly well-bred as one too. But that’s no’ why I fell in love with ye.”
She was too busy watching his hands slide over her body but managed to whisper, “Why did ye then?”
“Because ye are beautiful inside an’ out. No man could ask for more. Ye can only see the outside, sweet wife, but I see both at the same time. It’s a trick I learned from me mither.”
“Is it magic?” Erica wanted to know.
His hands helped her lift the nightgown over her head. He cast it away onto the floor, saying, “Nay, Wife.Ye’remagic.”
When he pressed his hard, warm body against her, Erica felt the familiar heat rising inside her. It was the same as when she used to dream about him, only this time her fantasy was real. His kisses were as passionate and commanding as she had always desired her husband’s kisses to be. How did he know what she wanted him to do to her? For his kisses to press and linger over those parts of her body that yearned for fulfillment the most, for his hard body to throb against her passage as she bloomed and opened to receive him.
For that first thrust to dissolve her maidenhead and make her his wife in thought, heart, and deed.
When they lay back panting on the mattress, she told him, “It was no’ nearly as inconvenient as me mither told me it would be.”
He took his time answering her this time and seemed to be in his own private dream of paradise, a beatific smile lingering on his face, softening the glint of elongated incisors in the dark. Then he gathered her back into his arms.
“It was no’ painful because ye had already experienced yer release. It readies yer maidenhead for the onslaught better than a tub o’ butter.”
Erica giggled and snuggled against him. She had released twice because Finn made sure to kiss her in such a way that her body could not help responding to the touch of his mouth and fingers.
“The way ye make me body feel, Finn, is like a dream come true.”
He held her close to his chest. “And the way ye make me heart feel, Erica Buchanan, is like a lifetime o’ dreams comin’ true for me.”
And just to show her he meant what he said, Finn kissed her again.
* * *
