Elizabeth watched him swing the scythe as he cut the wheat reed that he’d use to repair the roof. He’d stripped off his shirt as the day warmed and she couldn’t look away as his powerful muscles worked back and forth. It made a woman’s knees weak.

His dark skin, glistened with a sheen of sweat and the dark sprinkling of hair on his chest, drew her eyes down his taut abdomen to the waist of his breeches. For the first time in her life, she wondered what lay beneath the garment.

Even from this distance she could see other scars on his body. She’d had the strangest desire to soothe each one with her fingers as if her touch would heal the hurts he carried within.

“Lord have mercy,” her aunt spoke behind her.

She wheeled around, her aunt’s voice breaking her trance. “Aunt Mary, what are you doing out of bed?”

Her aunt reached a hand onto the door jamb and Elizabeth rushed to her side. “I came to see what all the racket was about. Forgive me child, but why does a man who looks like that come calling at our little cottage for a wife?”

“I keep asking myself the same question,” Elizabeth muttered as she helped her aunt back into the house and into her room. Though the weather had warmed up, it was still too cold for her aunt to be outside.

Her aunt let out a cough, the exercise clearly bothering her chest. “When will you get married?”

“As soon as you’re well enough to travel.”

Her aunt shuffled over to the bed climbing back in. “It felt good to get up,” her aunt said. “Made me hungry again, though.”

“I’ll get you more broth,” Elizabeth said, tucking her aunt back under the covers.

“Don’t wait until I’m well to marry.” Her aunt was already closing her eyes.

Elizabeth shushed her. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Have Mrs. Baker come stay. The journey to Gretna Green won’t take you more than two days from here.” Her aunt sighed, her eyes now firmly shut. “I want to see you settled, child.”

Elizabeth didn’t bother to respond as she made her way back outside. Callum was still swinging the scythe, a large pile of thatch behind him. Lord have mercy was correct.

Mid-morning, he stopped work, and went to the well for a drink of water while Elizabeth removed the clothes from the line. The slight breeze and crisp air had dried them quickly. She’d been pondering her aunt’s words, and the idea of getting married immediately appealed greatly.

Part of her was still desperately afraid that he’d disappear like her father or her suitors before her fall from grace. She despised feeling this way and had remained untied for this very reason.

But she wanted her relationship to be different with Callum. His touch had sparked a need deep inside.

He moved toward her, his body fluid and muscular, and her breath caught. She’d restrained herself from male company for so long, his effect on her took her by surprise.

“Did I see yer aunt up and about?” he asked as he approached her.

She gave a nod. “She’s improving by the day.” Elizabeth hesitated, her eyes sliding to him. Nerves fluttered in her belly as she relayed her aunt’s request. “She even suggested we make a trip to Scotland to marry post haste.”

“Did she now?” His eyes gleamed as he stepped closer. “And what do you think of this plan?”

She looked away. While she didn’t want to seem too eager, for fear he wasn’t, she didn’t want to waste the opportunity either. “Now that the decision has been made, I am eager to see it done.”

“Who would care for your aunt?” he asked, moving closer.

Her heart sped up at his proximity and she looked away, suddenly too nervous to look in his eye. “Our neighbor, Mrs. Baker.” Her cheeks heated and she fidgeted with her skirt.

Callum reached around her, bringing his hand to the small of her back and drew her in a little closer. “I will confess to also being anxious to have the nuptials behind us.”

His heat penetrated through her clothing and she found herself shifting closer still. “We could leave tomorrow morning. We’d reach Gretna Green by afternoon.”

“We could be married by tomorrow night.” He pulled her against him, his head dipping down. “Do ye have a dressmaker in town, lass? I’d like to get ye something for the weddin’.”

She shook her head. “There is one, but I’ve never used her. We’ve made do since we arrived in the village.” They’d taken cast-off clothing then altered the pieces to make their clothes. Elizabeth had kept them spotless but there was nothing fashionable about them.

He nibbled a little trail down her cheek by her ear, and delicious shivers raced along her skin.

“Once Ewan arrives, we’ll go to town and purchase ye a few things to tide ye over until we return to our home in Scotland.” His lips had reached her earlobe and gave it a nibble before kissing along her jawline to her mouth.

Our home. It sounded so good. “I don’t require anything. I only want—” But she couldn’t finish because his lips had reached hers.

If their kiss had been exciting yesterday, today it sent her body reeling. A humming began deep inside spreading out to every limb in her body and tightening her core, the pleasure singing in her veins.

As his lips plundered hers, she opened up to him to give him more of herself. He tasted her over and over, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Her knees buckled and a moan escaped her lips only to be swallowed by his.

The hard press of his masculinity dug into her stomach in the most exciting way as her hands travelled over the hard ridges of his muscles.

He broke their kiss, and she immediately missed the feel of his lips, the mingling of their breath. “If I don’t stop, lass, I won’t be able to control…” His voice drifted off as his face searched hers. He must have recognized the confusion written there.

“Control what?” she asked. She heard his groan, watched as his eyes closed. Crinkling her brow, she searched her mind to understand what he’d meant. Or, perhaps, she’d said something wrong.

“Do ye not ken what happens between a man and a woman? How they make bairns?”

A powerful wave of heat flamed in her cheeks but he’d know the truth soon enough. “I confess I do not.”

She could have sworn that a slight pinkness tainted his cheeks too as he took several deep breaths. Reaching for one of her hands behind his he pulled it between their bodies and pressed it to his hard shaft digging into her belly, his breeches the only thing between him and her hand. Her eyes went wide with wonder. She gasped at the newness but it was not entirely unpleasant to touch. In fact it was quite…interesting. Rock hard, it was larger than she’d imagined as she slowly explored its length. His breath quickened in the most satisfying way.

“This is a man’s part.” He cleared his throat. “It goes inside the woman—”

“It does not,” she gasped then, giving it the tiniest squeeze. That only made him groan again and a peak at his face showed a tortured look. “I’m sorry,” she rushed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No lass. It feels good.” He rasped out, his voice hoarse and wanton as she gave it another squeeze, feeling its length for a second time.

“It’s so large. I can’t see how it will fit.” Were all men built like this? She’d once heard a tavern wench complaining that her customers were all lightly hung. She hadn’t a clue what the women had been talking about but if she were asked to make a wager, Callum would not be classified as such.

He brought his own hand over hers to assist her movements. “It will fit,” he grunted between breaths.

“You’re sure?” Her movements grew more bold. It was gratifying to give him pleasure in this way. Her nipples tightened as they pressed together.

“I’m sure,” he said, his breath ragged.

“I want to see what it looks like,” she whispered. The juncture of her own legs throbbed as she tightened her thighs to ease the ache.

But he didn’t respond as his body gave a giant shudder, and he claimed her lips again, groaning into her mouth.

Finally, his breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. “You’ll see soon enough,” he whispered. “But not until we’re married.”

Disappointment made her shrink back a bit, his words like rejection. But his hands reached under her behind and lifted her up to press her closer to him. Her arms went around his neck and he kissed her again. While one arm held her easily in the air, the other started searching under her skirts. “Wrap yer legs around me lass.”

As she did so, the aching part of her sex pressed against him in the most gratifying way. Just then his hand found the slit in her pantaloons and his fingers brushed against her folds. She cried out, his mouth swallowing the sound as Elizabeth pressed more firmly against him.

In all her imaginings, and she had to confess to having them, she’d never pictured this. This intense desire, aching need that was filling her. His lightly stroked her, slowly exploring her most intimate place. She found herself moving with him, trying to tell him with her body that she wanted more.

He began a rhythmic movement that grew faster in tempo with each passing minute. His touch sent her spiraling out of control until she was trembling with a need she hadn’t thought possible. His name fell from her lips in a moan. “Callum,”

He kissed her again, silencing her plea until finally she shattered around him as lights shone behind her lids.

“That was beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her over and over.

“It was,” she replied, her fingers tangling into his hair. She knew she should say more, but her brain wouldn’t form the words. Her head tilted back, as though too heavy to stay upright. He slid his palm up to support it. She’d no idea being close to a man would feel so good.

He bent forward and gave her a long lingering kiss then. “It gets better,” he chuckled against her lips.

“That can’t be true,” she said, looking into his eyes, disbelief ringing in her voice.

“It is, lass. I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

Her toes curled in her boots. She could hardly wait.

As soon as Ewan arrived, they made their way to town. Elizabeth dropped off the laundry she’d washed, then they stopped to purchase more food and Callum plucked a bottle of almond oil from the shelf. “It doesnae matter to me, lass. But I thought ye might like it fer yer hands.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. She was proud of the work she’d done, supporting herself. But the change from ladies hands to ones that had worked hard had been difficult. The oil was a lovely treat.

Once at the dress shop, the dressmaker recognized Elizabeth and gave her a hairy eye when she came in with Callum behind her. It wasn’t untoward for the man she was about to marry to purchase dresses for her but as Callum was a stranger, it must have seemed odd to the dressmaker who’d only ever seen Elizabeth with her aunt.

“Who’s this then?” The dressmaker placed her hands on her hips, looking her up and down. “What have you been doing that a random man is purchasing dresses for you?”

Elizabeth felt her face flush with embarrassment. She wasn’t used to others doing for her and it seemed peculiar to her as well. She’d told Callum several times during the short ride to town that he needn’t purchase the dresses. Callum growled behind her, halting her thoughts and startling both the shopkeeper and herself.

“I’m her intended.” His voice was low but still dangerous. “Ye’ll fit her with two dresses or we’ll take our business elsewhere.”

The dressmaker said no more as she rushed to do his bidding.

“Do people often treat ye like that?” he asked after as the other woman had left.

Elizabeth shrugged. Except in rare moments like these, their treatment usually didn’t bother her. While she was ashamed of her father, she’d been raised a lady, and that meant she held her head high no matter the circumstances. “I pay them no mind. I know my worth.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and leaned in to whisper, “I’m proud of ye, lass.”

“You are?” She turned to him, a lightness filling her chest. “My aunt has always loved me no matter what I did or who I am. My father saw my beauty as a means to an end. I didn’t know my mother, but I’d always hoped she’d be proud of me.” As he held her gaze, her happiness bubbled inside of her. “It means so much that my future husband should be proud to call me wife.”

He stared at her then, as though searching for words, but the dressmaker stepped back into the room. “I’ve pulled a few dresses for you to try on, miss.”

“My lady,” Callum growled again, his head snapping up. “She is Lady Elizabeth.”