He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man in love.”
“Hmm, aye. On that note, I believe I’ll hunt down my son, because here comes yer bride, and the wedding will start soon.”
Perhaps she said more after that, but Lyon had stopped listening at “Here comes yer bride,” and whirled about to see, aye, Bonnie descending the stairs in that beautiful, stately manner of hers.
She looked…magnificent.
The gown she wore was a simple white one, thanks to the fashions the queen had started, but his bonnie lass didn’t need anything fancy to look like royalty. She held herself as if she possessed all the confidence in the world, and he knew that was what made her so beautiful.
The wounds on her head had healed, and now her scalp was a rough patch of scars, which he assured her would improve in time. Vanessa kept bringing her strange ointments and foul-smelling unguents to rub on the scars to soften them, but Lyon made certain to kiss them daily and assure her she was still beautiful.
A compliment she regularly brushed off with a laugh, but if she could love him, burns and all, then she’d have to accept he loved her scars as part of her.
Now they were either both beauties, or both beasts, and they chuckled often, arguing both sides of the debate.
Today, she’d covered her scars with a magnificent turban—white, of course—set with blue stones, which matched the sapphires she wore around her neck and on her ears. Lyon was absolutely certain he’d never seen anything more perfect as his bride descending the stairs to him.
Somehow, he’d arrived at the bottom of the steps to reach her, and when she stepped into his arms, he kissed her. The whole thing felt like a dream…or a fairy tale. Heaven knows there must’ve been some amount of magic to have brought them together so perfectly.
“Are ye ready, my love?”
Smiling, she linked her arm through his. “For ye, Lyon? Always.”
* * *
Bonnie shivered as her husband—husband—began to gently unwind the elaborate turban Vanessa had taken such care with. Seated in front of the mirror, she watched Lyon’s reflection as he too took such care with his task.
“How long do ye think everyone will celebrate downstairs?” she asked quietly, and was rewarded by a twitch of Lyon’s lips, even though he didn’t look up.
“Frankly, I dinnae care. I trust Keith and Da and Mrs. Oliphant to keep them in line. Are ye sure ye dinnae mind hosting a small celebration?”
“Nay, it was perfect.”
It had been. Bonnie knew she’d remember her wedding day for the rest of her life. Only their families had been present—she’d even invited her mother, who had bragged about her daughter “catching” the laird’s heir, even though everyone, including Bonnie, had ignored her—and the wedding had taken place in the castle’s great hall. The celebration was there too, but there was limited space, what with their new publishing house taking up half the great hall.
She cleared her throat. “I have a gift for ye, husband.”
Lyon had finally succeeded in unwinding the last length of white silk, and now dropped a kiss to her bald head. Although she knew her scars had no sensitivity yet, the sight of his tender love sent another shiver of need through her.
“Ye have nae need to gift me anything, love,” he murmured against her skin. “Ye’ve already given me the most magnificent present.”
Smiling, she stood and turned, snaking her arms around his shoulders, and cocking her head to one side. “My wit? My generosity?”
He chuckled, brushing a kiss across her lips. “Aye, those things. And yer love.”
“Oh.” She pretended to pout. “I thought for certain ye would say it was my virginity.”
He stiffened, and since she was rather pressed against him, she knew he was stiff all over.
“Ye havenae gifted me that,” he said in a choked voice, “yet.”
She knew he’d been looking forward to their wedding night as much as she had. “Soon. But first I have to tell ye about my gift.”
“Aye,” he murmured, lowering his head. “But hurry.”
When his lips found the side of her neck, she tilted her head to one side, giving him better access, as her hands slid under his coat and up his sides. He nipped at her skin, and she gasped, then pulled him flush against her.
“Have I mentioned I love ye in a kilt, husband?” Her hands slid down his sides to his hips, then lower, and she began to bunch up the plaid material, trying to reach the hardness she could feel pressed against her belly.
He growled as he switched his attention to that sensitive spot below her ear; his hands fumbling for the buttons on the back of her gown. “Aye, ye’ve said so a time or two. Easy access, ye ken.”
She hummed in agreement, which turned into a gasp as the shoulder of her gown sagged enough for him to drop his lips to her collarbone, then the top of her breast. “For fellatio, ye mean?”
He chuckled a moment before his tongue found her nipple. “Ye still have that sketch I made for ye?” he murmured against her skin.
“Aye!” She gasped, arching under his touch. “I’ve studied it often, wondering on the mechanics of— Oh!”
“Bonnie, if ye have something ye want to say to me before I remove yer gown, carry ye to that bed, and make ye mine, ye best be saying it now.”
Oh, how she loved this man and his sometimes-barbaric habits. “Yer gift!” she gasped, pushing herself upright, forcing herself to remember what she’d wanted to say, over the desire clouding her brain. “It will be delivered this week. The new sign for our business.”
He straightened, surprise in his eyes. “Ye’ve finally decided on a name for the publishing house? What is it?”
Smiling, she cupped his cheeks with her palms. “Highland Rose Press.”
His hazel eyes widened as his lips formed the shape of the words. Then he cleared his throat. “Rose?”
“Aye, my love. Now that ye’ve modified the presses, we can publish reproductions of color paintings. After we complete the print run on my book, I want to publish a book of Rose’s paintings, so that everyone in the Highlands and beyond can appreciate her genius. Assuming ye’re alright with it, that is.”
Unless she was mistaken, his eyes were a little watery when he cleared his throat and nodded firmly. “I think…that would be wonderful. She deserves that.” His smile was slow, but when it was full, even his scarred cheek didn’t diminish it. “Highland Rose Press. I think that’s a magnificent idea. Thank ye for thinking of it.”
Since she was still holding his cheeks, she tugged him down to her. “I love ye, Lyon.”
His arms wrapped around her, pressing her against his hardness and providing all the best kind of friction. In a moment, her gift, the press, and their future endeavors had been forgotten, because she knew she needed him now.
“And I love ye, wife.”
“Good,” she gasped. “Now, finish with these buttons, will ye? We have a wedding night to get on with!”
Chuckling, he kissed her, and this kiss was filled with all the passion and promise and plans she could want. Bonnie was certain her future was starting tonight, and she couldn’t be happier.
* * *
“She did it again, did she no’? Always with the fading-to-black,” sighed Grisel. “We’re never going to get to see anything interesting!”
Evangeline rolled her eyes and pushed the crystal ball toward Seonag. “Do stop complaining. Ye sound like Broca.”
“Well, Broca’s no’ here, is she? She’s still at the castle, making her fancy soups and roasts and breads and whatno’. Someone’s got to fill in for her in the complaining department!”
Willa smiled shyly. “Actually, I find it quite refreshing to no’ have the two of ye at one another’s throats all the time.”
“Blarden flit!” declared Seonag.
Evangeline would be damned before she admitted she didn’t have complete control over this chapter of godmothers, so she merely nodded regally to their eldest member.
“Yes indeed, Seonag. And thank you once again for fixing the crystal ball. Now, what is next on our agenda?”
“Ye mean now that Bonnie’s safely stowed in Lyon’s arms?” Grisel snickered. “I suppose we’ve got to deal with his brother, eh?”
Willa was examining her notes. “It does appear it’s Phineas’s turn to find love. Although—this is interesting—no’ here in the Highlands.”
“No,” declared Evangeline proudly. “He and Raina will be traveling to my hometown of York for the house party in a few months. It’s a sort of second-chance for all the attendees.”
“More like last chance,” murmured Grisel.
“Yes, well, you are not wrong, sister.” Evangeline straightened her shoulders and reached for The Book, where it rested on the table between them all. “I believe we’re going to have to find a particular type of woman to catch Phineas’s attention.”
“Beautiful?”
Willa shook her head. “Nay, Grisel. Phineas willnae care about appearances.”
“Tibbins f’r bobbit, eh?”
“Exactly.” Willa nodded firmly at Seonag. “The woman who will catch Phineas’s eye will have to be brilliant. Someone he can match wits with, and someone with as much knowledge of ancient civilizations as he has. That way, he willnae get bored with her conversation, nae matter what she looks like.”
Evangeline hummed thoughtfully as she flicked through The Book. “So what we’re looking for, sisters, is a bit different. Something not in our charts already. A young woman who is determined to make her own way, perhaps?”
Nodding happily, Grisel clapped her hands and bounced a bit in her seat. “Ooh, a scholar!”
They wouldn’t be godmothers if they couldn’t recognize the magic of a good idea.
Slowly, Evangeline closed The Book and smiled at each of them in turn. “Excellent, sisters. Let us begin to plan for…The Scholar and the Scot.”
Author’s Note
AUTHOR’S NOTE
On Historical Accuracy
This is a fairy tale. Obviously. We’re not expecting a whole lot of historical accuracy, but if you’ve stuck around with me for the three books in the Highlander Ever After series, and the eight predecessor books, Hots for Scots, I’m guessing you’re not expecting a whole lot of historical accuracy, which is fabulous.
It’s also way more fun when you can fudge details.
Oliphant Castle is, of course, an invention for my earlier medieval series. If you’re interested in finding out more about Nessa Oliphant, the artist behind those intriguing embroideries in Lyon’s study, you can find her story in Scot Under the Mistletoe, one of the eight Hots for Scots books. Duncan and Malcolm, whose work is also featured in Lyon’s study, are her brothers and have their own books.
But yeah, I figured it only fair Nessa’s unique brand of art be remembered and enjoyed by her descendants.
Anyhow, in my mind, these fairy tales take place during the 1880s, and there were some really cool advancements in printing presses during that time. Ottmar Mergenthaler invented the Linotype machine (literally line-of-type), right around the same time Tolbert Lanston invented Monotype, which was even faster. These were the predecessors to typewriters and allowed printed materials to be produced faster and more cheaply. At the same time, there were advances in publishing color material, which allowed paintings to be reproduced in a basic color scheme.
I’d like to think Highland Rose Press will produce a coffee-table-type book of poor Rose Prince’s oil paintings, so that women—and men—everywhere can be inspired by the beauty of the Highlands.
If you’re curious about Phineas’s story (and exactly what’s going on with Raina and her son), you’re going to want to check out Second Chance Manor, a fabulous house-party-trope series I’m writing with two of my best author friends: Scarlett Scott and Merry Farmer. My first contribution to the series, The Scholar and the Scot, will see Phineas meet his match at said house party, in the same Roman ruins which were so integral to his brother Roland’s romance in The Lass Who Kissed a Frog! Are you curious about exactly who could convince Phin to settle down? Or perhaps his lover will be the sort who loves adventuring as much as he does? Find out in The Scholar and the Scot!
I hope you’ll check out this fun new series and keep an eye on characters you’ve come to know and love in Second Chance Manor!
Other Books by Caroline Lee
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Steamy Scottish Historicals:
The Sinclair Jewels (4 books)
The Highland Angels (5 books)
The Hots for Scots (8 books)
Highlander Ever After (3 books)
Sensual Historical Westerns:
Black Aces (3 books)
Sunset Valley (3 books)
Everland Ever After (10 books)
The Sweet Cheyenne Quartet (6 books)
Sweet Contemporary Westerns
Quinn Valley Ranch (5 books)
River’s End Ranch (14 books)
The Cowboys of Cauldron Valley (7 books)
The Calendar Girls’ Ranch (6 books)
Click here to find a complete list of Caroline’s books.
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About the Author
Caroline Lee has been reading romance for so long that her fourth-grade teacher used to make her cover her books with paper jackets. But it wasn't until she (mostly) grew up that she realized she could write it too. So she did.
Caroline is living her own little Happily Ever After in NC with her husband, sons, and new daughter, Princess Wiggles. And while she doesn't so much "suffer" from Pittakionophobia as think that all you people who enjoy touching Band-Aids and stickers are the real weirdos, she does adore rodents, and never met a wine she didn't like. Caroline was named Time Magazine's Person of the Year in 2006 (along with everyone else) and is really quite funny in person. Promise.
You can find her at www.CarolineLeeRomance.com.
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