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“I promise, I will come to spend time over winter at Samuel’s country home. A month, or more, at Christmas. You cannot keep an adorable baby away from me.” Orris laughed. Standing from her chair, she glanced over at the tall mirror. It was as if she were a whole new person.

“Come, dearest. They are waiting for you,” Mama said.

Eliza helped to gather her train and helped her walk down the narrow stairs of the old castle. Once they were in the carriage, they set out for the chapel. While rain had started the day, the skies were clearing and the sun shone down on the green fields of briar.

As Abram had promised, there were horses to keep her own steed company in the fields behind the duke’s estate, which would one day become her and her husband’s home.

Orris felt a tremor of excitement and wanted more than ever to stare into her soon-to-be husband’s eyes again. There had been an old wives’ tale they had honored, and he had not been allowed to see her before the date. A full day apart from him had felt like medieval torture.

But now, the wait was over.

Orris exited the carriage with the aid of Eliza and her mama. At the chapel doors, Uncle Tolliver awaited. A stoic man, he looked genuinely happy with his grin and eyes filled with mirth.

“Your father would be so proud,” he said. “He would have never believed his hellion would have been married so soon. He thought you would be riding over the ranch for a much longer time.”

“Shh, Uncle.” Orris lightly slapped his arm. “Do not tell Mama I am a hellion. She would scarcely believe you.”

“I can hear you both. Please, we are on church grounds,” she said as she came up at Orris’s side. “Now, are you ready?”

“I am, Mama,” Orris said.

Eliza opened the chapel doors and the traditional song began, “Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór.”

Mama walked inside and took her seat before Uncle Tolliver guided Orris into her beloved. At the end of the aisle, Abram stepped down from the altar to accept her from Uncle Tolliver.

Her uncle lifted the veil, revealing her face. “So very proud, Countess,” he said before kissing her cheek and passing her hand to Abram.

He escorted her up the two steps and together, they stood before the priest.

As she recited her vows, she was sure she was the most joyful she had ever been in her life.

*

Abram was exhausted. He had danced into the wee hours with his new bride until family and friends from everywhere on the countryside had ushered them off to their carriage. They’d been whisked away to an inn in the area.

He had carried Orris into the adjoining chambers and waited as long as he could from his room until it was time to meet his wife once more.

He knocked on the connecting door, his soul ablaze and his need near all-consuming. She had been a gorgeous bride, and by the time they’d left, their kisses in the carriage ride had left both of them near starving for one another.

“Come in, Husband,” she beckoned.

When he entered the room, a fire burning in the hearth was the only light. He did not need the sun to see her beauty, however. Her nightrail was thin, the fabric only a suggestion of coverage. Her pert breasts were tight at the nipple, and her sex was bare, drawing a groan of desire from his chest.

“My bonny bride,” he said. Closing the door to seal them in, he stalked over to her, more beast than man.

It felt as if months had passed since he’d had her, held her in his arms. Even if he knew her intimately, he had never explored her bounty as her husband. This felt different. Their love was no longer fleeting, stolen kisses and hidden embraces. Now, he could take his time. He would savor her and drive her mad with desire.

“I have never seen such a sight,” he said.

With hooded eyes, she glanced up at him. “Nor have I, Husband.” She moaned, a catlike purr as she said the words.

Abram wanted to be gentle with her, but the look in her eyes, the musky scent of desire, had him grabbing her up into his arms. He carried her to the bed and placed her upon the mattress.

With one hand, he lifted her rail to reveal the glistening sweetness that called his name. “I want to look at you,” he said. “All of you.”

“I am yours, Abram. You may look as you so choose.”

He nearly ripped his pants from his body, the ache in his manhood so pervasive, he had to hold it to prevent the pulsing.