by Meara Platt
She slowly climbed in next to him careful not to disturb his slumber, and with her robe still securely fastened around her she closed her eyes. Then, after a slight adjustment that brought her into the slightest contact with his body, she drew on his warmth and sighed in contentment.
Chapter Seven
Damaris was thankful that Callum suffered no ill humor the next morning. In fact, other than grumbling of a slight headache that dissipated when he got something to eat, he was nearly the same man she’d been traveling with.
At least, that was what she tried to tell herself. In truth, after spending the night with him next to her, in which she woke up with her arm draped across his lightly furred chest, the male scent of him in her nostrils and the sight of his slumbering form imprinted on her memory, it was hard not to be more aware of him where he sat across from her.
Until last night she’d convinced herself that he was merely the companion with whom she’d been sharing a carriage ride. But suddenly, he had returned to being the one she yearned for in her fantasies, the Scotsman who had robbed her of breath as he entered her body and made her shudder with pleasurable abandon.
That man.
She withheld a groan. Why, oh why, did she have to remember how wonderful that night had been between them?
And what made her want to experience it all again?
In an effort to ignore her errant — and rather impure — thoughts, she turned her attention to the book that the innkeeper’s wife had given her when they’d departed. Of course, it was a gift on behalf of the esteemed Laird O’Donough, but hopefully it would engage her senses enough where she didn’t dwell on the tempting man across from her.
The minutes steadily ticked by and Damaris finally set aside her novel. She rubbed her eyes, the strain of reading for so long starting to wear on her vision. Not only that, but after stopping for a brief luncheon, just long enough to give the horses a respite, dusk was starting to fall and the light was becoming too faint to see the words any longer.
It wasn’t until she glanced outside at the fading light did she gasp.
She thought of how Callum had described the Highlands, but she hadn’t truly grasped what he’d meant — until now. With the sun setting behind the mountain range, it was as if the entire earth was on fire, the sky lit with an orange glow that gradually faded into a starry night.
“I told ye it was like nothing ye’d ever seen before.”
Damaris turned toward Callum at his softly spoken words and saw that he was looking directly at her. “You were right,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
She held her breath as he leaned forward and caught her chin with his hand. He gently rubbed her full lower lip with his thumb, his dark eyes caressing her face as surely as if it was a physical touch. “In all my days o’ living in Scotland, even the Highlands pale when compared t’ yer fair grace.”
Her heart somersaulted in her chest, for with such sweet words, how could she not be moved? “Callum…” she whispered, and she didn’t try to stop him when he pressed his lips to hers. She’d wanted this since the last time he’d kissed her.
Hands trembling, she reached up and wound her arms around his neck. He growled deep in his throat, almost like the purr of a cat, and she pressed herself closer to his body, until her breasts were flattened against his chest and not even an inch separated them.
He deepened the embrace, sweeping his tongue inside of her mouth and Damaris knew she was perilously close to losing all reason. But surely there was no way he could take her inside of a moving carriage?
The breeze whispered over her heated skin as he lifted her skirts, and then he was touching her feminine core. She moaned against his mouth while he pleasured her with his fingers. When he slipped one inside of her wet passage, she threw her head back and came apart, clutching his shoulders as she moved in a sensual rhythm against his hand until she was breathless.
While her eyes were still heavy-lidded with passion, she looked at him through her lashes.
“Ye’re amazing, Sassenach.” He swallowed and shifted slightly in his seat, and Damaris glanced down at his lap where there was a decided bulge underneath his kilt. Even though she was preparing to move through murky waters, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and rubbing her palm against his erection.
He hissed through his teeth, closing his eyes as he grabbed her wrist. When he looked at her, his eyes were flashing with desire. “Dinna start something ye canna see through t’ the end.”
She smiled in what she hoped was a coquettish manner. “Oh, I fully intend to finish what I started.”
He gave another growl, but this one even more sensual than before as he lifted her onto his lap, one leg dangling on either side of him as he raised his kilt. “Ye asked for it, Miss Honeywell.” With that, he lifted her and impaled her on his engorged cock.
The air left Damaris’s lungs in a rush. So this is how it’s done in a carriage…she thought distractedly, and then any further coherent mental capacity went out the window as Callum grasped her hips and began to move her atop of him.
That familiar sensation began to build once more, and she shuddered at the same time he found his release inside her.
Callum was lightheaded. It was the only way he could describe what he’d just experienced with Damaris. Granted, he was not inexperienced when it came to lovemaking, but something about the way they came together was like a million shooting stars in the sky. It was brilliant, remarkable, earth-shattering.
He just hoped she felt the same, and by the look of contentment on her face, he became confident that she did.
Suddenly, she touched her stomach and concern etched lines upon her face. “What is it?” he asked.
Her cheeks reddened charmingly, and she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “I hope we didn’t…hurt the baby.”
He smiled at her naïveté and reached out a hand to touch her cheek. He just couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself when she was near. “I wouldna worry aboot that, my love. My da said he laid with my ma until the day I was born.”
Her eyes widened. “Truly? It’s possible to engage in such…activities without any harm coming to the child?”
He placed his hand over hers. “He’ll be fine, I assure ye.”
She nodded, so he gently eased her to sit next to him. After he’d adjusted himself, she laid her head on his shoulder. He shifted so that he could put his arm around her.
When she didn’t talk after a time, he thought she might have gone to sleep, but then she spoke up softly. “Do you think it will always be like this?”
He didn’t have to ask what she meant as he glanced at the top of her honey-blond head. He wanted say that they were destined for a fairy tale, that happily ever afters really did come true, but he couldn’t lie and admit to something he knew nothing about. “I canna say, Sassenach. I only know it’s no’ something I’ve experienced before.”
“Never?”
“Never,” he returned firmly.
And he meant it.
That single coupling had been enough to satiate their desire — at least, for the time being, but Damaris could feel the swirling undercurrents of passion between them, for they were still quite evident. All it took was a certain look, the brush of a hand, and the interior filled with electricity. But they didn’t act on any further impulses.
However, once they reached Callum’s estate it might be a different story.
When Callum took up his role as clan laird, she feared it would affect his response to her. And although she told herself it was best if they regained some space between one another, she found that the thought of being apart from him for a certain length of time was rather…disheartening.
At least she could comfort herself that she wasn’t tied to him permanently and she could return to Haltwhistle at any time a free woman.
And yet, that wasn’t quite true either, was it?
Unfortunately, she was quite certain she’d fallen in love with the stubb
orn Scot.
But since she didn’t wish to dwell on anything further than the present, Damaris contented herself by hearing Callum talk in that smooth baritone as he pointed out various landmarks on their journey through what she had always heard referred to as the “wilds” of Scotland. But she found nothing that extraordinary except for their rugged beauty. It certainly didn’t appear as dangerous or as rebellious as she’d always heard, and whenever they stopped to take a break and let the horses rest, she found herself admiring the scenery with the same calm reverence that Callum showed.
By the time they reached Inverness, Gavin, Jamie, and the Solomons — who had kept to themselves for the majority of the trip, giving Callum and Damaris time to themselves for the most part and only interacting with them briefly when they all sat down together underneath a shade tree to eat — continued on to Castle O’Donough in order to let the servants know to expect their master and to send Callum’s coach for them so the rented conveyance could return back to Haltwhistle.
Shortly after they had partaken of a light luncheon at the local hotel, Laird O’Donough’s coach arrived. It was much nicer than the hired coach, but now that they were nearing their destination, Damaris was almost sorry for it to be over. While she was weary of traveling, of being cramped in a confined space for the past fortnight, she was starting to become anxious about her reception in the O’Donough household. Granted, she was the daughter of a nobleman, but in the Highlands where battles had been fought over freedom from the English for centuries, could she trust that they would readily welcome her presence? She might be accepted as a guest, but what about when it was announced that she could possibly become their mistress?
The carriage lumbered along the coastline of the banks of a body of water Callum called the Moray Firth, the midday sun shining upon the surface like a thousand diamonds. She was so fascinated by the charming inlet that when Callum whispered in her ear, a wave of gooseflesh appeared on her arms.
“Welcome t’ Castle O’Donough, Miss Honeywell.”
Damaris turned her head just as an imposing structure came into the clearing. Her eyes instantly widened and her jaw went slack. While she had been prepared for a castle, she hadn’t been prepared for the awe-inspiring sight before her. A limestone edifice at least four stories in height, towered over the green, manicured lawn around it, the impressive turrets along the roofline making an intimidating statement to all who came upon it. Unable to tear her eyes away, she breathed, “It’s magnificent.”
“I rather hoped ye’d feel that way,” he murmured.
As they came to a halt, Damaris saw a line of servants standing tall and proud before the entrance, awaiting the reunion with their master. In light of such a show of respect, Damaris had to believe that the rumors she’d heard about Callum were true, that he was a good laird to his clan, to his people.
Without waiting for a footman to assist her to the ground, Callum climbed out of the coach and then reached out a hand for her. She took it and carefully stepped down. Several pairs of eyes looked at her curiously, although she knew her presence had already been noted by the early arrival of Gavin and Jamie, who now lumbered down the steps with broad grins.
“Ye’ve finally arrived,” Gavin said with a hearty clap on the back to Callum.
“Ye’ll be happy t’ know that cook is preparing yer favorite meal for supper in honor o’ yer return,” Jamie added.
“Thank God,” Callum sighed. “I’m famished.” But as he turned to Damaris, his dark eyes shining with something almost…feral, she had to wonder if he was actually referring to food.
He lifted a hand, and a man, who could only be the Scottish equivalent of the butler, strode forward. “Yes, my laird?”
Without taking his gaze from her, he replied to the servant, “See that Miss Honeywell is shown t’ her rooms and a bath and tea tray are prepared immediately.”
The servant bowed and backed away before he approached several other servants and began issuing quiet orders. It wasn’t until a comely maid with bright red hair came forward that Callum bowed to Damaris. His dark eyes smoldered. “I’ll take my leave o’ ye so ye can get settled.”
Damaris watched him walk away, his brothers following in his wake, but not without a departing wink of encouragement from Jamie as they did so.
“My name is Inys.” The servant spoke up when they were gone. Damaris thought she might be near her age, if not younger. “I’m t’ be yer personal maid while yer a guest at Castle O’Donough. If ye’ll follow me I’ll show ye t’ yer quarters.”
As she walked by the rest of the servants who were still lined up and waiting for her to pass, they bowed or curtsied respectively. It wasn’t until Damaris walked through the large, oak doors into the foyer that her breath truly caught.
While the exterior of the castle had been remarkable, it was nothing compared to the arresting design inside. Gothic, stone archways and dark mahogany walls were lined with priceless works of art and tapestries. The floor was black and white marble and gleamed with a fresh coat of wax. A massive staircase wound around the edge of the space with a carved bannister the likes of which Damaris had never seen before.
“That’s the usual reaction most get when they come t’ the castle.” Inys said with a knowing grin.
As she continued on, Damaris slowly followed behind, her attention fixated on her lavish surroundings. She couldn’t help but imagine the castle was more like a museum than a home. It certainly wasn’t the broken down, drafty, Medieval structure that she’d envisioned. Needless to say, Laird O’Donough was quite a bit better off than she’d given him credit for.
“This is the Avalon room.” Inys smiled conspiratorially at Damaris before she opened the heavy oak doors, but once the room was revealed, she understood why.
It was immaculate.
A massive four poster mahogany bed with a canopy and light blue drapes took up most of the floor space, while a large stone fireplace was off to the left with a welcoming fire already set in the hearth. Along with an elegant wardrobe, dressing table, and matching blue velvet settee, it was a room fit for a queen.
“The sitting room is through there,” Inys said, pointing toward what appeared to be another spacious area. “And yer personal bathing chamber is just there.”
Damaris looked beyond the fireplace where she indicated.
“Do ye want me t’ help ye undress for yer bath?”
Damaris wasn’t quite ready to explain her burgeoning stomach just yet, so she shook her head. “I can manage, thank you.”
Inys curtsied. “Just ring if ye need anything.” She gestured to a rope pull hanging by the bed, and then she took her leave.
When she was gone, Damaris walked into the sitting area and gasped when she saw a room lined with rows of bookshelves and two more blue velvet settees. A writing desk sat before a large, picture window that overlooked the lawn, and when she glanced outside she caught sight of a row of trees surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. Her heart thrilled, for she should like to explore such magnificence at the earliest opportunity. After working in the gardens so diligently at Haltwhistle, she was starting to miss toiling in the dirt. Strange, for she had never thought of herself as enjoying such work, but once she’d left London, she’d come to realize that there was so much more to appreciate in life besides balls, teas, and musicales.
She returned to the bedchamber and opened the wardrobe to find her things had already been hung up inside. As she withdrew her robe, she had to admit that the servants at Castle O’Donough were rather efficient.
After she undressed, she walked into the bathing chamber and was instantly greeted with a steaming copper tub. The scent of rose water met her nostrils, and she breathed deeply in delight.
As she immersed herself in the warm water, she sighed in rapture. It had been days since she’d enjoyed a proper bath. Whenever they had stopped at an inn to rest and refresh the horses on their journey, the most she generally had time for was a quick rinse off from a
pitcher and bowl of tepid water at best. So this was like heaven.
After she soaked to the point her fingers began to wrinkle and the water was cooling, she stood. As the rivulets were still trailing over her naked body, she heard a deep voice say from the doorway.
“Do ye ken this is the first time I’ve ever seen ye fully unclothed?”
Damaris gasped as she reached for her robe. Holding it up in front of her like a shield, she turned around to see Callum leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.
His presence instantly caused a shiver of desire to travel through her body.
He must have also bathed recently, for his slightly damp, dark hair was falling over his forehead. He wore the black and red colors of his clan on his kilt and his white cambric shirt was rolled up to his forearms, casually open at the throat. If it were possible, here in the Highlands, in the place of his birth, she thought he looked even more handsome than before.
However, he must have mistaken her shudder, for his brows drew together and he walked toward her. “Ye’ll catch a chill. Let me help ye…” His voice trailed off and he visibly swallowed as he held out a hand for her covering.
She slowly handed it over to him, still aware that she was completely naked and his heated gaze was taking in every inch of her. But then, considering she was carrying his child already, it was rather pointless to try to cover the evidence of their lovemaking.
His eyes paused first on her full breasts, and then on her swollen belly as he held out her robe for her. She slipped her arms through the sleeves and stepped out of the tub before she tied it closed. Only then did his dark brown gaze return to hers. “Yer body…it’s…” he paused, as if he couldn’t quite find the right words.
“Large?” she added with an ironic smile.
“Fascinating,” he breathed. He reached out and touched a strand of her hair, still wet from her bath. “Ye’re all I ever wanted, Sassenach.”
