Page 52

Epilogue

Eytone Hall, Scottish Highlands

December 1721

Apalm pressed against the icy window pane, Emeline stood enthralled as great, fat snowflakes sifted from the sooty sky. She’d seen snow before, of course, but never in this quantity. It had begun yesterday morning and hadn’t stopped. The entire Highlands were blanketed in a thick, virginal mantle. Beautiful and peaceful.

A private smile curved her mouth as contentment she couldn’t have imagined flowed through her like warmed honey.

If the weather permitted, Liam had promised to take her sleighing on the morrow. Their houseguests were as enthusiastic about the outing as she. Jeannette, now living at Eytone Hall and Liam’s ward, had proved to be the sister Emeline had always wanted.

They even looked much like one another, except Jeannette’s hazel eyes simmered with a hint of mischief Emeline’s never had. As sweet and sincere as their brother had been evil and calculating, Jeannette had adjusted surprisingly well to her change in circumstances and to living in the Highlands.

Emeline had the privilege of meeting Pierre Durpreiz when he’d escorted Jeannette to her new home. He’d been as charming and kind as Aunt Jeneva had vowed him to be. He wrote her regularly now, and had almost convinced her to journey to France to view her estates once the plague had been eradicated.

Quinn and Skye were houseguests, too.

Last year, Skye had introduced a few of her favorite Yuletide traditions. Recovering from the sudden deaths of both parents within a week of each other in October of 1720, she’d thrown herself into the holiday preparations as a way of honoring them as well as needing the distraction to help deal with her grief.

The result of her efforts had been a season so memorable that, although Scots didn’t celebrate the holiday in the same fashion as the English, Liam and Emeline had decided at Eytone Hall, Christmastide would be observed in the more traditional, festive way.

Kendra and Broden had arrived two days ago, as had Berget and Graeme and a few others. Arieen’s time drew near, so she wasn’t able to come. However, she’d vowed to be the first to arrive next year. Logan and Mayra Rutherford had sent their apologies as well, wanting to remain near Arieen, as well as a reluctance to travel with their two-month-old daughter, especially after Mayra had miscarried last year.

The house overflowed with family, friends, and love.

“Lass, come to bed,” Liam murmured from the comfort of the large curtained bed dominating the room. “I dinna want yer frozen toes and bum assailin’ me again,” he teased.

Turning from the window, Emeline tilted her head coyly, all but purring, “I dinna hear ye complainin’ about my bum this mornin’ when ye—”

“Woman. Bed. Now.” A mocking smile quirked his well-formed mouth.

“Och, I dinna think so.” Emeline made a pretense of sauntering to the fireplace, swinging her hips provocatively. Liam particularly adored her bum. Gathering the curtain of her hair, she bent over and poked the fire, aware she gave her husband of just over a year, a view he very much admired.

Before she straightened, strong arms encircled her from behind. “Ye promised to obey me, serve me, love, honor, and keep me,” he whispered in her ear, his tone husky with unappeased desire.

“I think that was more of a suggestion, rather than an absolute decree.” She turned in his embrace. “Besides, ye, Liam MacKay, Baron Penderhaven, like the chase. Admit it. As long as ye ken the outcome.” She bent her neck and placed a hot, opened-mouthed kiss on his pectoral muscles.

The sculpted flesh—pure masculine rawness—jumped beneath her lips, and she smiled against his fragrant skin. Had any man ever smelled so…masculine? She loved that she could make him respond like this. A mere look or an innocent touch and Liam became a blazing conflagration. And when he took her to his bed, God above, no woman had ever experienced such bone-melting ecstasy.

He lowered her to the fur before the roaring hearth, the hard angles of his beloved face standing out harshly with his passion. “Emeline MacKay, I love ye,” he murmured into the sensitive hollow where her neck met her collarbone.

He’d learned all of her most sensitive places and didn’t hesitate to exploit his knowledge to his advantage. Not that she minded overly much.

Arching her neck to allow him greater access, she trailed her fingertips over the ridges and swells she knew as well as her own body. Perhaps better. “And I ye, Liam, master of my heart.”

He moved to her mouth, his tongue dueling with hers as his manhood nudged insistently at the apex of her thighs. Would she ever tire of this joining? Of becoming one with this man who touched so much more than her physical body but who’d taken her heart captive? He’d stamped his spirit upon hers for all time.

“Look at me, Em,” Liam insisted, his head poised at her entrance.

She couldn’t deny him. Lifting her gaze to his, she read the adoration there and knew he could see the same in her eyes.

A soft moan escaped from her parted lips as he slid into her, and soon they were swept into the current of blissful sensation, their hearts and souls melding as one.

“Liam!” Emeline cried as the first powerful tremors sluiced through her, spiraling her higher and higher until everything exploded into wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.

His release came on the heels of hers and, with a guttural groan and a final hard thrust, he spent himself. Liam rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Eyes closed, he trailed his fingers in large figure eights across her back and buttocks.

“Liam?”