by Amy Daws
“Are you all right?” I ask, squinting through the rain and placing my free hand on his ankle.
The Scotsman’s eyes go wide. “Yer hair, lass. Yer dress!” He nearly drops the bagpipes as he grabs the umbrella to hold over my head from his position on the ground.
“It’s fine,” I state, pushing my long red hair back behind my shoulders. The hairdresser spent hours taming my mane into perfectly smooth tendrils, but I knew it would never last as soon as I saw the rain. Curly hair problems. “Are you hurt, though? It looked like you might have twisted your ankle. Stay still while I have a look.”
His eyes are nearly hidden amongst the crinkles that take over his entire face. “Aye, I’m right as rain. Just an old geezer who cannae watch where he’s walking.” He wipes away the mud on his knee and smiles apologetically.
I smile and shake my head. “It must be difficult with that thing strapped to your front.”
He nods and hands the umbrella back to me so he can stand. With great effort, he pushes up off the ground and readjusts the bagpipes over his chest. “Let’s get ye married, aye? Or perhaps ye want tae ditch this wee lad and run away with me instead? I promise, I’m more agile than I look.”
I erupt into laughter as the cocky bagpiper waggles his brows at me suggestively.
“Everyone okay?” Camden’s voice pulls my attention away as I look over and see him approaching. He’s left his position under the dry alter where we’ll exchange our vows. Rain beads off his wool suit jacket and down his arms, but something about his blue eyes in the grey daylight is dreamy.
“We’re fine,” I reply with a laugh. “Although, it’s good you’ve come. I think our proud piper here was just about to whisk me away to the Highlands.”
Camden frowns at the old man, who doesn’t look the least bit intimidated as he places the reed in his mouth and begins playing again with an extra flourish and more eyebrow waggles.
Cam turns back to me in confusion. “I think I should walk you the rest of the way. I don’t trust the twinkle in that bloke’s eyes.”
With a huge smile, I reach out and grab his hand, pulling him under the umbrella with me. “Sounds perfect.”
He smiles down at my rain-drizzled face, his own just as damp as his smoothed back hair. When his body presses up against mine, I instantly wish we were done with the wedding part and in our honeymoon cottage.
“It’s strange to see you without your glasses, Specs,” Camden murmurs softly, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“It’s strange to see you wearing a skirt, Camden,” I retort, glancing down and taking in his suit jacket, vest, and red tartan tie that matches his kilt.
“It’s called a kilt. It’s very manly,” he corrects with a tight jaw. “And just wait ‘til you see what’s underneath. That’s definitely manly.”
I can’t help but giggle and roll my eyes—a very familiar response when it comes to my future husband. He drops a kiss on my forehead, then pulls back to look at my full body.
“If I were smarter, I would have let you struggle a bit longer in the rain.”
“Why is that?” I ask, my brows knitting together as I look down at my dress that has a good inch of mud on the hemline.
“Because your dress is white.” He waggles his brows and glances down at my chest with a lascivious smirk.
“You’re cockier than the bagpiper I think,” I murmur under my breath and jab him in the ribs with my bouquet.
“And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he replies quickly, his face losing all humour as he stares straight into my soul.
My kneejerk reaction is to complain about my ruined hair or my runny makeup, or maybe whine about how I didn’t have time to get my dress hemmed and now it’s ruined by the rain. But I’m too happy to let all those thoughts cloud my mind. Today I’m marrying Camden Harris and nothing is going to get me down.
As we follow the bagpiper down the aisle, Camden holds the umbrella over us and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Hey, Specs, why does Snoop Dog need an umbrella?”
I look up at him curiously. “Why?”
“For drizzle.”
Camden’s pun causes a laugh to burst unexpectedly from my belly, and I think it caught the bagpiper off guard because he let one of those high notes slip again. Thankfully, he didn’t trip.
We finally make our way up to the safety of the pagoda in one soggy piece. Our earlier teasing is forgotten when the registrar begins the service. Camden and I face each other, holding hands beneath the hanging glass lanterns that twinkle yellow lights all around us. A portable heater warms my bare arms and shoulders as I adjust my strapless dress. I wipe at some mud splatters on my skirt that only end up smearing, and I’m instantly transported back to the first time I met Camden.
He was covered in mud and laid out on a stretcher, playing the part of a cocky football player. But he wasn’t only an athlete womaniser looking to have sex with his surgeon. He was a Harris Brother, which meant more than I ever could have ever realised on my own.
The registrar indicates it’s time for us to say our vows to each other, and Camden is the one to go first.
“Indie Porter, I promise to love you more than cheesy puns, more than James Patterson novels, and more than football. I promise to pour you coffee every morning and let you spoon me every night without talking about it the next day. I promise to be understanding when you’d rather read a boring textbook than watch telly with me. And I promise to be fully supportive of your career in sports medicine, no matter how many blokes you have to put your hands on.
“You made me want more out of life, Specs. You saw so much more in me than just my family and football. You helped me see a life outside of my own little world. Because of that, for the rest of my life, everything I have is thine. All my possessions, my wisdom, my humour, my hopelessness and hope, my passion and, above all, my love is thine, as thou art mine.”
Tears slide down my cheeks as he repeats the mantra that has become my most treasured words out of his mouth. He said them to me the first time we made love. Every time I hear them now, I remember exactly what made me fall in love with him.
The registrar gestures for me to begin, so I take a deep breath and steel myself to speak from the heart, which has never been as easy for me as it has been for Camden.
“Camden Harris, I had a list of qualities for the kind of man I wanted to marry. A description. A type. I had everything planned out. Then you happened.” I pause and fail to wipe the smile off my face as I have flashbacks of Camden and his brothers barrelling into my hospital. “I had this person’s character traits listed out in great detail, but the one thing that was never on my list was love. Love was a foreign concept to me because of how I grew up. That’s why I appreciated my charts and checklists. They gave me a sense of purpose. But you were someone I never could have planned on because you don’t belong on a list, Camden. You belong with me. You were meant for me, and I’m so grateful to take the Harris name today. I’m ready to be a part of a real, genuine family…with you. You are my family, Camden. You’ve shown me what love feels like. Because of that, I will be thine forever and always. Thank you so much for being inappropriate and kissing me in the hospital when you were my patient.”
Camden laughs, his glossy eyes spilling tears down his face. “I believe it was you who kissed me in the surgical theatre later on.”
I giggle. “We are full of inappropriate moments.”
He nods proudly. “And now we’ll have a lifetime to make more.”
The registrar says a few more things I don’t hear. But when he says we can kiss, he has my full attention.
Camden leans in, cups my face in his hands, and presses his lips to mine in the most tender, soul-affirming kiss of my entire life. It isn’t a kiss of passion or lust, sex or attraction. It’s a kiss that feels like home and a lifetime of promises to be there for each other, no matter what.
CHAPTER 3
Cock and Balls
Camden
It’s dark out when I carry Indie through the rain, up to the entryway of the secluded stonewall honeymoon cottage that’s been prepared for us. The building is tiny and located on the grounds of the majestic Caerlaverock Castle. It’s apparently where the groundskeeper lived back in the 1800s, but the wedding planner said it is the most romantic place you can find near Gretna Green.
I finagle the door open and carry my giggling bride across the threshold into a stunning one-room cottage, covered in pink flower petals and illuminated by the fireplace and dozens of votive candles. The cottage looks like it was plucked straight out of some historic Scottish Highlands magazine. Indie slips out of my arms and gasps as she takes in the untainted character of a cottage that’s easily two hundred years old. The original stone walls and cedar-plank flooring coupled with the roaring fire, plush rugs, and cosy furniture transform this piece of ancient history into a hideaway you never want to leave.
“Will this work okay for you, Mrs. Harris?” I ask, loosening my tie and following her as she makes her way over to the fire crackling in the stone hearth.
She smiles at my reference to her new last name. “It’s a dream, Mr. Harris,” she replies, her eyes trailing from the exposed beams on the ceiling to the giant four-post bed in the middle of the room. “This entire trip has been a dream. I’m so happy, I could burst.”
Her curvy silhouette is outlined by the golden flames of the fire, and I can’t help but think how fucking lucky I am to call her my wife. She’s not just beautiful. She’s intelligent, and quirky, and fun. She’s everything. And the image of having little ginger-haired babies with her cleverness makes my chest ache with a desire that’s stronger than I’ve ever felt before.
“I’m happy, too,” I reply, draping my damp jacket over the sofa and stepping up behind her. I rest my chin on her shoulder and wrap my arms around her waist as we both gaze into the fire. “And I’m so glad that it was just the two of us today.”
“Are you really?” she asks, her tone hesitant. “Are you sure you’re not disappointed your family wasn’t here? I mean, this wedding was kind of a mess with the rain and everything. Maybe something in London with your family would have been a bit more proper.”
“Indie,” I chastise softly and drop a kiss on her bare shoulder. “This wedding was us. Nothing about our relationship has ever been proper. Bloody hell, we started off under the guidance of a penis list for fuck’s sake.”
She giggles and covers her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me.”
With a proud grin, I turn her around to face me, my hands tightening around her waist as I pull her flush against my body. “I love my family, but I love us even more. Today was everything I hoped for.”
Indie smiles and exhales heavily as she wraps her hands around my neck. Her brown eyes look thoughtfully up at me. “Very well then. But now that I’m a Harris, I intend to behave like one, which means I’ll start inserting myself into everyone’s business.”
My chest vibrates with a silent laugh. “Is that how you see my family?”
She nods stoically. “Pretty much. Overbearing and over-caring. But I can survive it, especially since your brother married my best friend. Belle and I have great plans for you Harris twins.”
“Oh?” I ask, arching a brow and squeezing her to me. Impatience rolls through my body as I realise we’re both wearing way too many clothes in this honeymoon cottage. “Are you going to let me and Tanner in on our future plans that you have so clearly mapped out already?”
She shrugs and begins fiddling with the buttons on my shirt. “Well, obviously we’re going go on holidays together.”
“Obviously,” I state, biting my lip and watching her focus intently on the task of removing my shirt.
“And eventually we’ll want to move out of London to get away from the noise and the traffic. Something a bit quieter, possibly near your dad.”
“Is that right?” I ask, my hands roaming up and down her ribcage as she yanks the tails of my shirt out from under my kilt.
“Of course we’ll be neighbours with Belle and Tanner because we don’t just want Harris Sunday dinners, but Friday Tequila Sunrise nights and Saturday morning English breakfasts while our kids play in the garden as well.”
“Kids?” I ask with a laugh, completely captivated by this rant Indie is on and never wanting it to stop.
Indie frowns petulantly and pushes the shirt off my shoulders. She licks her lips and runs her hands down my bare chest and abs. I groan from the feeling of my cock growing hard beneath the tartan pleats.
“Of course,” Indie replies, looking up at me and combing her fingers through my damp hair. “Our children will be best friends with Tanner and Belle’s kids, and we’ll want to live near the rest of your family so the cousins can remain close.”
“Naturally,” I add, biting my lip and reaching around to her back. My fingers find the long row of buttons down her spine, and I quickly begin sliding them through the loops. I lean in and murmur into her ear, “And how many children do you see for us, Mrs. Harris?”
“Oh, at least four.”
I can hear her smiling. “Really? Just four?”
“Mmhmm. I’ll still want to work, but I won’t be travelling with a football team once I start having children. I imagine I’ll open up my own athletic training centre that specialises in injury prevention. It will be revolutionary, of course.”
“Of course,” I murmur as her dress slides down her breasts. I push it over her hips, and it pools on the floor around her feet. She steps out of it, kicking the fabric off to the side so she stands before me in nothing but her white heels, her white strapless bra, and white knickers. My virgin bride.
Not quite, but she is one hundred percent mine, and there’s a carnal part of me that loves the fact that she’s never felt another man inside of her. I was her first. My seed is the only seed to have entered her body, and the thought of making babies with her has me hard as stone beneath my kilt.
My fingers reach back for her bra clasp. “What are your plans for me?” I whisper, kissing her earlobe and nuzzling into her scent.
She sucks in a sharp breath when her bra tumbles to the floor. I pull back to gaze down at her pale pink nipples, hard and pointing straight at me. I lean down and drop soft kisses on the mounds of her breasts.
“You’ll retire eventually.” She lets out a soft cry when I pull her tiny bud into my mouth. “And have loads of investments, so you won’t have to work if you don’t want to.”
“That’s good to hear,” I reply, smiling as I suckle her other nipple and pull it hard and long between my lips.
“Oh God, but you’ll bore easily,” she moans. “You’ll most likely start coaching our kids’ football teams or helping out at Bethnal Green.”
“That’s very logical.” I reach out to grab her hand and place it on my groin to show her the effect her words have on me. She bites her lip and wraps her fingers around me, letting out a tiny sigh of appreciation.
“You never asked me what I was wearing under my kilt, Specs,” I murmur in a deep, wicked tone.
“I can already guess,” she husks, swallowing and slowly slipping her hand up under the fabric. She grabs my bare shaft and smiles with glee. “Just as I suspected. Cock and balls.”
I laugh at her cheekiness, and it takes everything I have not to rip her knickers off and fuck her senseless. This is our wedding night. It needs to be about more than uncontrolled lust.
I clear my throat and concentrate on the words I want to say next. “Are there any other plans you want to inform me about?” I ask as I slide my hand down the front of her knickers and gently tease the crease of her pussy.
She whimpers when I find her clit and apply delectable pressure. Her whimper changes to a full-on moan when I plunge a finger deep into her tight, wet centre. “We can alternate hosting Christmas and other holidays,” she cries.
I grin and continue plunging into her. “You know, for a bird who likes her space, you sur
e have concocted quite a plan to keep everyone close.”
She opens her brown eyes to me. They are filled with something meaningful and important. Something that I want to remember forever. “It’s because I’m madly in love with you, Camden, and you’ve completely changed me.”
My chest soars with pride from her words. In a flash, I lose the battle to take this slow and yank her knickers off, along with the rest of my getup. I lay her down on the plush fur rug in front of the fire and gaze down at our naked bodies as her legs wrap around my waist.
The head of my cock teases her opening and she pumps her greedy hips up toward me. “I love you, too, Indie,” I reply, pushing her hair back from her face and staring deep into her eyes.
With one meaningful look, I thrust deeply into her. As deep as I can reach. As deep as she can take me. I let my weight sink down on top of her so my body consumes her. So I can feel every breath she takes and every moan she utters.
My jaw is tight as I pull back and stroke my cock inside of her, building speed with each and every pump. The fire heats my skin and the rug sticks to my palms, but the silkiness of Indie’s skin against mine is perfection.
Her hands run over my face, my shoulders, my arms, and my back. Her moaning grows louder and more frenzied as she reaches around to grab my arse. She pulls me tight against her, holding me inside her as she tenses. I hold my breath and watch in wonder as her orgasm detonates through her entire body, vibrating in her chest, then her stomach, through her thighs, and finally clamping down on my cock inside of her.
I feel it all. Her orgasm. Her desire. Her passion. Her love.
When her eyes open and look up at me, I can see it all. Our future. Our plans. Our family. Our life.
Once her climax descends and her body relaxes, she lifts her head and grabs my face to kiss me. Her tongue dives hot and wet into my mouth, and it’s all the touch I need to fall over the edge as well.
