Page 79 of The Lady of Her Highland Clan

Standing there together, Fiona was in a dream. Pressed up against Clyde's firm body, all she could think about was being alone with him later that night. His scent offered her in, wafting all around her. A honeyed mist came over her, deep and intense, creeping into the base of her spine.

Clyde brought his warm face toward her, nuzzling her on the nape of her neck. A joyous shower of pleasure erupted all over her, and it was all Fiona could do not to damned well scream right there in front of everyone.

"Later," he hissed conspiratorially into her ear. No one else heard, Fiona was sure, but it didn't stop her cheeks from coloring bright red. With no warning, she was scarlet from ear to ear, and it was obvious to everyone.

Which was even more embarrassing.

Now that the elder had finished the binding, he smiled encouragingly. A spontaneous ripple ran through the hall, but Fiona barely noticed it. All she could see was Clyde, in the sudden burst of light to drench the hall. There, his pale-green eyes looked even brighter than normal, radiating in the light.

The elder coughed. Fiona looked up; she had not noticed, but now all the attention was fully upon her.

"An' now ye may kiss the bride," McTavish said.

He looked to Clyde, who wasted no time. Slowly leaning in, he delivered a long, lingering kiss so deep it nearly unseated her.

They had been sitting, but as they kissed, Fiona found herself sliding. If she weren’t careful, the intensity would bring them from their seats.

Melting, Fiona brought herself back from the brink. It was too hot, too far, too deep. Even the crepe-faced old counselor was looking at them unsurely.

Grinning, Clyde pulled himself off her, but a fizzling sensuality still burned all through Fiona.

"I pronounce ye man an' wife—lady an' laird of the two clans!" said the counselor, although the last part was drowned out in a hail of cheers.

"Come on, Lady Duncan..."

Taking her hand, Clyde led her on. Everything in Fiona's body tingled and buzzed. She could not wait to get started.

"At last, I've got ye tae mysel', Lady Duncan. Or is it Lady Greenock?" Clyde grinned. On the large mahogany bed, he stroked her hair.

The last of the wedding guests had finally left the Duncan castle bedchamber.

"Och, I thought they'd never leave!" pouted Fiona, laying herself out on the four-poster bed.

Clyde eyed her lasciviously. "Aye, I think one or two o' them wanted tae get intae the bed wi' us!" Clyde smirked. "I think McTavish had designs on ye!"

His eyes flashed mischievously at her. Fiona batted him away.

"Och, dinnae," she gasped, giggling so hard it took her breath away. "I think he just had designs on the bed."

"Aw, come on, he wanted ye," teased Clyde.

But Fiona just sighed before thumping him over the head with a pillow.

Clyde laughed.

"Dinnae," said Fiona, making a face. "He had just had a wee bit too many drams..."

"Auld soak was in his cups, alright." Clyde winked, then both of them fell about laughing.

Staid and sober McTavish, having one too many, had been the surprise event of the wedding feast. So much so that when the guests had taken them to bed for their laying in, he had promptly fallen asleep in it! Much mirth had ensued, and it had taken a couple of them to escort him back to his own quarters. Now that he had gone, Clyde and Fiona glanced at each other meaningfully.

"Ye sure they're all gone?" said Fiona. Sitting up on the bed, she cast a glance around. Somewhere, from downstairs, the laughter continued, and the distant strains of fiddlers could be heard.

Clyde listened too. "Aye," he said. "Quite sure..."

Fiona looked less than convinced. Clyde watched her, tickled.

"Dinnae fash," he said, coming forward and stroking her hair. Fiona stared at him, becoming lost in his labyrinthine eyes. How had she never noticed the layers in them? All the shades, from the deepest to the brightest, shimmered inside.