Tears brightened her lovely eyes, even as delight illuminated her delicate features. She looked a different creature from the woebegone girl at breakfast.
When she didn’t respond straightaway, he tightened his hold on her hand. “This is my third proposal, my darling. Please say yes this time.”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, and her voice emerged in a husky whisper. “Oh, Brody, you make me so happy. This morning, I thought I’d never be happy again.”
He stared into her face, recognizing her as his destiny. “I’ll do my best to make ye happy for the rest of your life.”
Her lips curled in a smile that expressed a universe of joy. For the first time, he genuinely believed that she did love him. “I’d love that.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you.”
“So?”
She laughed, and the warm sound rippled down his backbone and settled in his heart. “Of course I’ll marry you, Brody.”
Once she’d declared her love, he’d known she’d have him, but hearing the words shifted the final traces of uncertainty that had weighed on his heart like an anvil.
“Oh, my beloved,” he sighed and brought her hands to his lips. “Thank you. I’ll never let ye down. I swear it.”
“Now I’m convinced you should kiss me, Brody.”
Overwhelming emotion making him clumsy, he struggled to his feet. He lashed his arms around her and drew her against him, glorying in the soft lushness of her body and how she welcomed his touch. “Aye, I recall last time we were rudely interrupted.”
“We might be rudely interrupted this time, too,” she said, so incandescent with elation, she shone like a thousand stars.
As Brody stared down into her vivid face, he didn’t feel triumphant. Instead he felt blessed.
He’d never imagined having the power to make anyone feel like this. It was a responsibility, and one he intended to live up to as long as he drew breath. His grip on her waist tightened. “When you’re my wife, I’ll have ye to myself.”
“I’d marry you tomorrow.” A spark of the delicious humor he’d discovered in the last few days lit her eyes. “Well, perhaps not tomorrow. It’s Christmas Day.”
“What a rare Christmas gift fate has delivered into my hands.” He smiled back at her. “And we’re in luck, sweetheart. Marina has hung that unimpressive Sassenach weed all over the castle. So as long as we’re standing under it, I can kiss ye whenever I like.”
Elspeth gave a cracked laugh and buried her fingers in his hair. “Stop talking, Brody.”
He stared down at her, dazzled with elation, dazzled with her. “But don’t ye—”
His shy wee beloved gave his hair a sharp tug. Even as he winced, she rose on her toes and dragged his head down for a kiss that wasn’t shy at all.
Epilogue
Elspeth rested in Brody’s powerful arms as Perseus ambled toward the small building under the brow of the hill, picking his way across the firm snow on his neat black hooves.
“Are you tired?” Brody murmured, guiding the bay into the shadowy stables at the back of the isolated hunting lodge, deep in the hills behind Achnasheen Castle.
Elspeth made a drowsy sound and rubbed her cheek on Brody’s shoulder. The wool of the plaid he’d flung over his shoulder was soft beneath her face. She drew in a deep breath redolent of hay and horses, and the delicious scent of the man she’d married. “A little. Mostly just happy.”
He didn’t immediately move to dismount, just tightened his hold on her. “You were a beautiful bride, mo chridhe. I cannae tell you how I felt, when you walked down the aisle toward me this morning and promised to be my wife.”
She smiled at the memory. She’d felt like her heart had spent the day dancing. It had been a perfect wedding, with family and friends and everyone delighted for the bride and groom. Any ill feelings lingering from the scene in the library had faded to nothing over the last few weeks. Even Hamish and Diarmid had expressed their approval of the match, once they saw that Brody was deeply in love and set to stay that way.
Elspeth and her mother had reconciled soon after she accepted Brody’s proposal. Today, Elspeth had been touched to see the redoubtable Lady Glen Lyon shed a tear when her daughter emerged from the vestry with her new husband to walk through the church as man and wife.
“You could try to tell me,” she said, loving this ability to tease him.
In the days when she’d loved him from afar, she’d always felt utterly inadequate in comparison to superb Brody Girvan. Over this last month, they’d become equals. He was no longer the plaster god out of reach on his pedestal, and she was no longer the adoring acolyte, worshipping at his altar.
In fact, they’d managed to conquer the distance between them so effectively in the castle’s hidden corners that she was astonished she’d come to church today as a virgin.
Brody was much more interesting and complex than the cipher she’d created in her imagination. A lifetime of discovering every facet of his nature stretched ahead of her. What she knew so far was warm and funny and passionate, with a streak of chivalry as wide as the Irish Sea. She looked forward to learning more about the passion tonight.
What a lucky girl she was.
“Och, I’d need to be a poet to do the moment justice.” When she didn’t speak to release him from the obligation, he sighed and kissed the top of her head. Even through the paisley shawl covering her hair, she felt the tenderness of his lips. “You’re a demanding wench, Elspeth Girvan.”
Her new name still thrilled her. She placed her gloved hands over his where they clasped her waist, holding her securely on the large horse. “You like that.”
Their encounters since his proposal might have been frustrating, but they’d also proven educational. His need for her built her confidence that she was a desirable woman and even better, that the man she loved craved her to the point of madness.
“Aye, I do.” He paused. “When you wed me, I thought I’d feel like I won a great victory.”
“You didn’t?”
“Aye. Aye, I did. But that wasn’t the most important part.”
“What was?”
“Mostly I felt thankful. And determined to do right by this treasure that life saw fit to grant to me. And love. Most of all, I felt love.” His embrace tightened, and his voice lowered to the beautiful bass baritone that always made her shiver with longing. “I love ye, lassie. I’ll love you until the day I die.”
He paused, then went on with a fond impatience that coaxed a choked laugh from her. “Don’t tell me you’re crying again.”
“How did you know?”
“I always know.”
He did, she’d discovered. She sniffed. “You are a poet. That was lovely.”
“Och,” he said with charming bashfulness. “You’re a daft wee thing.”
“Daft with love,” she said.
Brody slid down to the ground and raised his hands to pluck her from the saddle. He looked the complete dashing Highlander in his green and blue kilt. After the ceremony, he’d changed out of an elegant black coat that would grace any drawing room in London. Her wedding dress had been one of Sandra’s creations, a simple gown in heavy silk the color of champagne. She’d also changed her clothing for the long ride up into the hills. Now she wore the rich purple riding habit that Marina and Fergus had given her as a wedding present.
As Brody set Elspeth down before him, she caught the glint of laughter in his green eyes. “Of course now what I mostly feel is randy. We have a wedding night ahead of us, and the Good Lord above knows why we’re hanging around in a stable, when we could be inside doing wicked things to one another.”
His earthy remarks made her laugh again, and she rose on her toes to kiss him. His lips were a delicious mixture of warmth and cold and tasted of winter air and Brody. “Don’t take too long settling Perseus.”
“Stay there. I’ll be back soon.”
“Stay here?”
“Aye. You’ll see why.
”
In a radiant glow of anticipation, Elspeth watched him lead the horse into a stall. As he performed the humdrum actions of caring for his mount, she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt ready to explode with joy. Nobody in the history of the world had ever been as happy as she was right now.
Through the open door, she saw how the light faded on the wild hills and a starlit night crept in. A night that promised untold pleasures.
She and Brody would spend the next three days alone here at Achnasheen, before he took her to her new home at Invermackie. While she was eager to see the place he spoke of with such love, right now, she looked forward even more to changing from bride to wife. Hunger for her husband had risen to such a pitch, that she feared she’d burst into flame the instant he touched her.
“What are ye thinking about?” Brody crossed the floor toward her, his long legs eating up the space between them.
“You. Me. Us.” Her blush burned in the cold air. “The fact that it’s a long winter night, and we’re going to spend it together.”
His soft laugh expressed equal measures of anticipation and appreciation. “I have plans for each and every hour. Starting now.”
He swung her into his arms. Her heart gave a great swoop as her feet left the ground. “Brody!”
“Whisht, mo chridhe. It’s good luck to carry the bride over the threshold.”
“Is it?” She curved one possessive hand around his neck.
He bent and kissed her quickly. “Och, it will be for us.”
She murmured with disappointment when he drew away without deepening the kiss. Then she rested her head on his chest as he carried her across the short, snowy distance to the hunting lodge. Pushing the door open involved some delicious juggling of his burden, before he stepped inside.
“Goodness me, it’s like something out of a dream,” she said, as she took in the opulent room with its four-poster bed, comfortable furniture, and blazing fire. A quick, comprehensive glance confirmed that Fergus’s retainers had fitted out the hunting lodge for the perfect honeymoon.
“Aye, it is. Fergus didn’t let me come in, the day he brought me here to show me the path and to ask if I wanted to use the cottage for our first few nights together.”
“Marina and Fergus have been very good to us.”
“Aye, they have.” Gently, Brody set her on her feet in front of the fire. “And I intend to be very good to you right now.”
When she stared up into his bright green eyes, the purposeful light there made her shiver with yearning—and nerves. She loved him, she wanted him, he’d already put his hands on most of her body. But here in this luxurious retreat, she was powerfully aware that she’d never given herself to a man before.
“Do ye want to rest?” He tugged the Girvan tartan from over his shoulder and tossed it across a chair. He dropped onto one of the leather couches and with impressive dispatch, hauled off his boots.
Transfixed, Elspeth stood on the red and blue Turkey carpet in the center of the room and stared at him as he started to undress. Even his feet were beautiful. Strong and graceful and long.
“Elspeth?” he asked, humor deepening the attractive creases around his eyes.
She pressed one hand to where her heart performed a wild reel, and she shifted from foot to foot in a lather of impatience and agitation. “No.”
He rose, fixing an unwavering regard on her that sent excitement rippling up and down her backbone. “Are ye hungry?”
“No,” she said, although she hadn’t done justice to the extravagant wedding breakfast that had emerged from the castle’s kitchens.
“Do ye want some privacy?”
Humor tugged at her lips, as she removed her gloves. The gold glint of her wedding ring filled her with pride. “Do you want to go back out into the snow?”
He didn’t smile. Over the last weeks, he’d leashed his hunger, but she saw that his control was coming to a rapid end. She gave another shiver.
“I suppose you’re a wee bit nervous.”
A soft huff of laughter escaped her. “Of course I’m nervous.”
“So I thought—”
She stepped into the shelter of his body and placed her hands flat on his broad chest. Beneath her palm, his heart thundered as fast and hard as hers did. She sucked in a breath that tasted of Brody. Horses. Leather. The open air. Healthy male. A faint hint of musk that betrayed his desire.
“You’re talking too much again, my love.” She tugged his loose white shirt free of the thick black belt at his waist.
He caught her hands as she lifted the shirt. “Elspeth, lassie, are ye sure?”
A huff of disbelieving laughter escaped. “Brody, I’ve been sure for five years. I want you.” She cast him a flirtatious glance under her eyelashes. “You’ve led me to believe you want me, too. Or have you deceived me, my handsome laddie?”
He laughed and wrenched his shirt from her hands and over his head. “Never let it be said.”
She paused to appreciate the sight of his bare chest, hard and lean and covered with a scattering of silky black curls. With shaking hands, she unbuttoned her stylish jacket and, showing little respect for Sandra’s skill and hard work, flung it across Brody’s discarded plaid.
Brody fell to his knees before her. “Lift your foot.”
Deftly he removed her half-boots, stockings and skirt, tossing them across the carpet. He caught her buttocks and dragged her forward, burying his face in her stomach. While she’d loved him for a long time, adult appetites were newer to her. Through all the feverish kisses and caresses of the last weeks, she thought she’d come to understand what it was to want a man. But only now when she stood in her undergarments in her husband’s embrace did she really recognize the power of a woman’s need.
“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned into the petticoats covering the soft curve of her belly.
Something loosened and liquefied deep inside her, and heat began to throb in the secret hollows of her body. She combed her fingers through his hair, as she quivered with an agonizing mixture of tenderness and desire for this man she’d married. The bed loomed behind them, the bed where he’d take her innocence before too much longer.
“I love you, Brody,” she whispered and bent to kiss his ruffled dark crown. He tilted his head and met her lips. Kissing her all the time, he came to his feet. At first, gentleness was paramount, before passion inevitably took charge. A passion fed through a hundred fleeting encounters, where all that had kept her chaste was the chance of discovery.
With breathtaking competence, he removed the last of her clothing, sending corset, shift, petticoats and drawers drifting to the floor. Each brush of his hands on her skin stoked her restless longing for more.
“Oh, my,” she sighed, even as she tried to cover her sex and her breasts.
He laughed with the fondness that had been among the first hints that his feelings were changing—that, and his penchant for kissing her whenever he had the chance. “Have I made ye shy?”
She blushed like fire and avoided those avid green eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Brody stepped back, his hands loose at her waist, and surveyed her with a thoroughness that only intensified the warmth in her cheeks—and elsewhere.
“Don’t be. It’s charming.” He laughed again. “Ye need bigger hands.”
Ruefully she glanced down. She wasn’t managing to hide much of her lavish bosom. That dratted shortbread. “Blast.”
“Won’t ye let me see you?” His brogue was thicker than ever, always a sign of overmastering emotion. “I’ve dreamed of having ye naked in my arms.”
Elspeth raised uncertain eyes to meet his and found nothing but wonder and desire there. Thank goodness, he’d already made it clear he was mad about her abundant curves. “Have you?”
“Of course.”
“These collywobbles must seem mad when you’ve touched me so often before.”
As if he couldn’t bear to look away, he went back to studying her bosom. “This i
s better.”
On a couple of occasions after those shocking moments in the library, he’d fondled and kissed her breasts. She trembled to recall the thrill of his fingers playing with her nipples, nipples now tight and aching. Even the brush of her own hand across the hard peaks had her thinking sin.
“You look like you want to eat me,” she said unsteadily, as the muscles at the base of her belly clenched on painful emptiness. How she wanted him.
“I’ve starved for you, Elspeth. You’re lovely, and I adore you.”
The words quietened the butterflies performing acrobatics in her stomach. Slowly she lifted her hands away from her body and straightened until she stood proudly before him.
Elspeth discovered how glorious it was, to have a man stare at her as if she were a goddess. A shaky inhalation expanded that imposing chest when he stepped back to see her better. Nerves fluttered back to life as his gaze devoured her nakedness, but she tilted her chin and made herself stand still as a statue.
“Take down your hair, my darling,” he said hoarsely, his hands opening and closing at his sides.
As her clumsy fingers slid the pins from her hair, she watched his face. Her trepidation ebbed. While she saw flaring heat, she also saw raw need. Because of his worldly experience, Brody had always seemed ahead of her in this game. Tonight, their love for one another placed them on the same level.
As the waves of long, brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, it took no special act of courage for her to catch his hand and place it on her breast. “Touch me, Brody.”
He groaned his assent, and in a flash, everything turned to pleasure and excitement. He caressed her breasts, squeezing and stroking, and taking the hard peaks of her nipples into his mouth. She cried out as sensation after sensation speared her, and the yearning ache between her legs sharpened to the edge of pain.
Astonishment faded, and she began her own journey of discovery, running her hands over the hot skin of his chest and shoulders and back. He pushed her backward with a few nudging steps, and she tumbled onto the bed, falling in a tangle of arms and legs and drifting hair.
The Laird's Christmas Kiss Page 15
