by Caroline Lee
The Queen stepped forward and lifted her hand, then placed it on Mellie’s shoulder in a sort of benediction. “Your mission, as Lady Fraser, will be to secure peace in Lovat,” she said in a gentle voice. “There is treachery afoot, and I trust you absolutely, my dear. You will ensure none of that treachery spills over to Lovat, and you will ensure your people and clan are allowed to live in peace.”
The Queen then dropped her hand and stepped back. The silence, which spread through the small room, stretched for a dozen heartbeats, then a dozen more, as Lachlan held his breath, waiting for Mellie to answer.
Waiting for her to understand what their Queen had just commanded.
Finally, her voice quavering, she whispered, “Lady Fraser?”
Lachlan wasted no further time.
Ignoring the pull of his stitches and the ache in his arm, Lachlan pushed himself to his feet, then reached for Mellie. He lifted his uninjured arm to cup the side of her face, while resting his other on one of her curvaceous hips.
“That’s twice now ye’ve been ordered to marry me, Mellie. So what say ye finally follow through, eh?” He held his breath as he waited to hear her answer.
And to his immense relief, her lips twitched upward, even though her eyes showed her sincerity. “Well, I have always been a loyal Angel.”
When the Queen cleared her throat, they both glanced at her, but Lachlan couldn’t make himself ease his hold on the woman he loved, and Mellie didn’t seem anxious to leave his hold any time soon either.
“A love as strong and certain as what you have found is a rare and special thing, Lady Melisandre Lamond,” Elizabeth stated regally. “I relieve you of your vows to me and wish you all the peace and joy in your future with your husband.”
They had their Queen’s blessing!
Without acknowledging his monarch, and without giving Mellie time to as well, he turned her head back to his and captured her lips in a kiss designed to show her just how much she meant to him.
How much he loved her.
How much he needed her at An Torr.
How much he intended to treasure her, to worship her, for the rest of their lives.
How much he needed a future with her as his wife and mother to his daughter.
The kiss sent him reeling.
With a gasp, he pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. Both were still as they gulped for air.
He wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but he was desperately trying to keep his cock under control.
The bloody Queen of Scotland is standing right over there, ye clot-heid!
Finally, he eased his hold on her and swallowed. “Marry me, lass. Be my wife.”
She pulled away, but only far enough to gaze into his eyes.
And when her lips broke into a smile, he thought he might’ve died and gone to Heaven.
“Aye, Lachlan! But I’ll want more bairns.”
Just like that, the fist squeezing his heart eased, and he could breathe once more. But before he could kiss her again, before he could even control the smile which threatened to split his face in two, her friend Rosa huffed.
“I suppose I’ll have to teach her how to count again, but for the opposite result,” she whispered loudly.
Bursting into laughter, Mellie pulled away from him, but wrapped her arm around his middle even as she reached out her other hand to her friend. All the women were chuckling, which told Lachlan it was a joke between them, even if he didn’t understand it.
And at that moment, he didn’t care. He was getting everything he’d wanted: Mellie would be his wife, and the Frasers would finally have peace.
Thoughts of Cameron—his brother was alive!—threatened his newfound happiness, but he pushed them down. Right now, he held the woman he loved and had just been promised a future with her.
That was enough.
Mellie was still smiling as she said to the Queen, “I owe ye so much, Yer Majesty. And now even more! I hope ye’ll consent to a royal visit to An Torr sometime? The waters of Loch Ness are stunning, if ye avoid the summer storms, and ye have to hear the stories of the monster who lives there! Oh, and Rosa!” She reached for her friend. “I cannae wait to introduce ye to wee Simone. She’s so smart, ye’ll love her right away.”
Rosa patted her hand. “I look forward to meeting yer daughter,” she said with a gentle smile.
“Daughter…” Mellie breathed reverently, then turned a bright smile to Lachlan. “I’ll be her mother, will I no’?”
His hold on her tightened, and he resisted the urge to burrow his face in her sweet-smelling curls. “Ye’ll be the best mother she could hope for, love.”
The Queen interrupted them again when she cleared her throat. “I would be pleased to see you married here in Scone, if you can delay your return to An Torr. And although you have your new mission, I would appreciate your insights into this current dilemma.”
Dilemma?
What a simple way to call something so complex!
But Mellie nodded eagerly as she glanced his way. “I cannae imagine Lachlan wanting to leave without answers about his brother. Are ye willing to stay a bit longer?”
Stay in Scone?
He remembered the way his head had ached the last time he’d been here, the way all the simpering and bowing and politeness had grated on his nerves, when he’d much rather have been at home, improving An Torr or hunting for his people, or even out on the loch with his daughter.
But gathered in this room were the very people who would’ve given him that headache, but now he realized they were friends. And he didn’t have to avoid them, or yearn for his home any longer. If Mellie was here with him and willing to introduce him to her life, he’d be happy to stay here a bit longer.
As long as he could take her back to An Torr when this was all over.
So he nodded. “If I can send an escort for Simone, with instructions for Owen and Marcus in my absence, I’d be pleased to marry ye here, and stay as long as the Queen would have us.”
After all, his mother was already in Scone, and Simone was the only other family he’d insist on having at his wedding.
Briefly, his mind jumped to his treasonous younger brother, back from the dead, but he pushed thoughts of Cameron away. He couldn’t count as family anymore—not if he was a traitor—for all that Lachlan owed Cameron his life.
Rosa clapped her hands eagerly, her smile genuine. “Mellie and Court have both found love! I cannae believe how much things will be changing.”
Court elbowed the younger woman. “We need to find ye a man now,” she announced, in that gruff way of hers.
Mellie giggled as Rosa flushed.
“Nay, thank ye. I am happy here at Elizabeth’s side. She’ll need me more than ever, once Mellie is gone.”
Court rested her palms atop her bow, the back of one hand revealing a distinctive thief’s brand. “Ye’ll have me and Ross. Between the three of us, we’ll keep the Queen safe.”
“And what about me and my men?” the bodyguard rumbled from his place against the wall. “Are we worth so little?”
All of them chuckled, and Mellie waggled her finger at him. “Now that ye’re a father, Liam, yer attention will be divided. When can I meet wee Roger?”
Liam grinned proudly. “I’m surprised Charlotte isn’t in here with the lad already. Ye’ll have to visit her as soon as ye can, or she’ll have my hide. But”—he leveled a mock glare at Mellie—“don’ give in to her demands for a report. She has to rest, and ye are no’ one of her Angels anymore.”
The reminder sobered Mellie, and her eyes turned sad as she looked back at her friends. “I’ll miss ye more than ye’ll ken.”
But it was the Queen who scoffed and tsked disapprovingly at her bodyguard, before turning her full attention to Mellie. “Being an Angel is not something you just give up, Melisandre. You will be married, you will have a new role, but you will forever be one of my Angels!”
“I—” Mellie’s voice cracked, and she shook her head,
then smiled softly. “I love ye all.”
Gently, Lachlan turned her to him, and her smile grew.
“And ye, Laird Fraser…I love ye more than I thought possible.”
He was grinning as he leaned toward her. “And I love ye, my Angel.”
His lips closed on hers, and the vow became reality.
There, in her arms, he found his promise of forever.
Epilogue
“Come here, wife.”
At Lachlan’s growled command, Mellie didn’t bother hiding her joy. And when he saw her smile, her husband mirrored it, just before pulling her hips flush against his and lowering his lips to the smooth skin of her neck.
Husband!
The word would never cease to amaze her, even once the newness wore off.
She was married, as of this morning, and still felt a little dazed over it.
But her husband’s lips were being sufficiently distracting.
With a gasp, she flexed her pelvis, grinding herself against his stiffening member.
“Lachlan!” she moaned, allowing her head to fall back so his lips could trail down toward her breasts. “Please!”
“Aye, wife,” he murmured against her skin, and she could hear the grin in his voice.
It seemed he was just as enamored with their new status as she was.
When he kicked the door to his chambers closed, it was easy to forget the wedding feast and friends who had teased them with knowing looks. It was easy to allow her world to shrink to this room, this bed, and what her love was doing to her.
And what she could do to him.
Over the last three weeks, much had changed. Simone had settled in at Scone for a long visit, and they’d gotten to the bottom of the twisted, treasonous plot against the Crown.
But one thing which hadn’t changed, was her feelings for this man.
Each night, after his shoulder had healed enough, he’d visited her in her small chambers, and they’d spoken of the future they would build together, as their naked limbs twined around one another.
She’d had three weeks to learn what her husband liked, and fully intended to employ the entirety of her knowledge tonight.
His hand was already reaching for her breast—one of those things she’d learned he liked very much—when she stepped back and sank to her knees in front of him.
“Mellie—”
“Shh,” she cautioned him, reaching for his kilt. “Let me.”
He made a strangled sort of noise as she lifted the Fraser plaid, revealing the hard and swollen length of him. But when she cupped his bollocks and lowered her lips, he jerked away.
“Mellie, ye don’ have to…”
From her spot on the floor before him, she met his eyes, remembering the time she’d lowered herself in this same way previously. He’d had the strength to deny her then, but the liquid heat in his beautiful gray eyes now, told her he was ready this time.
Then, she’d made this offer only to manipulate and seduce him.
Now, she did it out of love.
“Please, Lachlan,” she whispered, letting all the love she felt seep into her voice. “Let me do this for ye.”
A groan marked his surrender, as his hand dropped to her hair, and his head fell back.
Sainte Vierge, but he was so very large!
It wasn’t the first time she’d tasted a man’s cock, but it was the first time it made her feel so powerful. The noises he made, the way his skin flexed beneath her ministrations, made her wet and desperate in a way she’d never experienced.
Her fingers inched her skirts up as she knelt on the floor, the fabric skimming over her sensitive skin. When she touched her own dampness, she surged forward with a moan, taking him farther down her throat.
That was the limit for him, and Lachlan broke away with a growl, then reached down and pulled her into his arms in one movement.
Before she knew it, she was on the bed, her skirts bunched around her hips, and he was plunging into her.
“God Almighty,” he groaned, resting his forehead against her shoulder, as he gulped in big breaths of air. “I wanted to go slow tonight and savor my wife.”
Under him, she wriggled slightly, not bothering to hide her smile as the pressure built in all the right places.
He pulled back to look into her eyes. “I’m sorry, wife, but—”
“Take me, Lachlan,” she commanded. “We can go slow next time.”
With a groan of surrender, Lachlan anchored her hips to his and rolled over, taking her with him. They were both still clothed, both panting and desperate, both tangled in the coverlet and her skirts.
It was perfect.
She loved when he allowed her to be in the position of power like this, with the ability to set the pace and the pressure. She loved feeling in control and loved the way it aroused her. When his tempo changed, she knew he was ready to lose himself inside her, so she leaned forward and planted her hands on either side of his head.
Lachlan could apparently tell she was close to her own fulfillment, because his palms grasped her arse cheeks, and his fingertips brushed against her secret pleasure spot, causing her to scream his name as she climaxed.
Thoroughly spent, she collapsed onto Lachlan’s chest, and they were quickly lost in a jumble of clothing, both a hot and tangled mess. They were chuckling when she finally pushed herself upright and rolled off him.
“That was…” Unable to find the words to express how amazing their lovemaking was, Mellie trailed off with a sigh.
Pushing himself up on one elbow, Lachlan’s grin showed how proud of himself he was. “If that’s what married life is like, I’ll gladly take it.” His hand drifted to the curves of her stomach. “And ye’ll have that bairn ye want before long, because I plan on exercising my husbandly duty as often as possible.”
Mayhap it was how silly and arrogant he sounded, or how happy the thought of carrying his child made her…but either way, Mellie’s giggles were so strong and loud, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to quiet them.
His growl told her he hadn’t been expecting that particular reaction, and her giggles turned into a shriek when he suddenly rolled her over, reaching for the lacing of her gown.
“What are ye—?”
Her question was cut off when she gasped as he peeled her gown off her shoulders, then reached for her leine and proceeded to quickly and efficiently disrobe her.
When he knelt between her thighs, still fully dressed, he grinned wickedly down at her. “Ye were saying, wife?”
The heat in his gaze was enough to fluster her, to make her completely forget whatever she’d been laughing about only a moment before. “I… Lachlan?”
He leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands on either side of her torso and lowering his lips to her breasts. With a moan, she arched off the mattress.
“What are ye doing?” she asked rather stupidly.
And then she felt his grin against her skin as his lips traveled lower, reaching her curls.
“I’m returning the favor.”
And he did.
She was soon gasping for air, and any and all coherent thoughts were beyond her capability.
When her pleasure burst over her once more, she didn’t bother silencing her cry.
It took a long moment before the room stopped spinning, and she could focus on his sly grin, but by that time, he’d already gathered her in his arms.
“I love ye, Mellie.” He placed a kiss at the side of her head.
“I…” She took a deep breath, still having some trouble thinking. All she knew was, this man—this incredible man—was hers. They were married now, both of them finally getting the happy life which had been denied to them for so long.
He belonged to her, and she belonged to him; and here, in each other’s arms, was exactly where they were supposed to be.
“Aye, my angel?”
She grinned up at him, impish and not at all uncertain. She knew what she needed, what she wanted. What wou
ld make them both happy.
Forever.
“I think ye should get rid of yer clothes, husband, so I can show ye just how much I love ye.”
His gaze turned molten. “Are ye ready to face the future with me, lass? To spend the rest of our days ensuring peace for our people, our clan, and our family?”
She knew, with absolute certainty… “I am ready.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE On Historical Accuracy
Alright, listen. We’ve been over the inaccuracies of all our heroes wearing kilts, but there’s a few other inaccuracies to address—or at least, things which might be hard to believe.
Okay, okay, stuff I made up.
First of all, let’s address this “I am ready” line. Yep, that is the clan motto of the Frasers of Lovat (“Je suis prest” in French, because as you likely know, the Scots and French were closely connected via their hatred of the English). However, it’s a little hard to believe that things like clan mottos, cries, and even colors were codified as early as 1320. The point is, some of these mottos are accurate, others are extrapolations.
By the way, the Frasers around Loch Ness are a separate clan from the Frasers in the Lowlands. In fact, in the 14th Century, the Frasers I’m writing about were a branch of the Lowland Frasers, even though their lands are extensive (all along the southern shore of Loch Ness).
Speaking of which, I’ll bet you didn’t expect to read a historical Scottish romance about Loch Ness which didn’t involve the monster, did you? But it’s hard to deny the tales of Nessie have been around for generations, so I had to at least reference her.
But that does lead me to another thing I made up: A Fraser stronghold at An Torr. The keep is named for a rocky outcropping near Dores/Durris, where I imagined Lachlan’s beloved home to be.
Historically speaking, Lachlan and his brothers likely would have been born at Dounie Castle near the Beauly Firth or Inverness Castle on the Ness River. Both were important sites during the first War of Scottish Independence, so it’s not unbelievable Michael Fraser would’ve moved his wife and sons to a smaller fortification. That would explain why Lachlan grew up at An Torr.
