A week later, Cameron Sutherland and Kenneth Brodie waited nervously at the door of the kirk, the priest on the step above them. It was a fine late November day, and cloud-dappled sunlight filtered into the small stone kirk through the open door. The sun shone through colorful stained glass windows set high above the altar, throwing rainbows on the walls.

“Trust Catherine to be late,” Kenneth muttered as a chill breeze carried a shower of dry leaves skittering by them.

“Mary is usually quite punctual,” Cameron noted, hoping that was true. “And I suspect Annie can be counted on to get them here sometime today.”

“Annie is up for the challenge,” Iain assured them. “Ah—here they come.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the keep, where the three women exited the door and started across the bailey.

Cameron nodded, but his gaze was fixed on Mary. Resplendent in a deep, wine red gown, she moved toward him gracefully, as if she floated above the ground. Gold and jewels around her throat and in her hair caught the sunlight, flashed and sparkled, making her appear a creature of magic. The image fit how he thought of her. Mary was magical to him. She’d saved his life, then changed it in ways she did not yet comprehend, making him a better, happier man just by her presence. He could only hope he’d done much the same for her.

He tore his gaze away and glanced aside at Kenneth and Iain. They stared at the approaching women, seeming as rapt in their attention to their ladies as Cameron was to his. Cameron barely noticed Catherine’s pale blue dress or Annie’s deep blue out of the corner of his eye. He grinned, then turned his gaze back to Mary and softened his expression into a smile of welcome. His heart soared when she caught him staring and smiled back.

“We are here and ready,” Annie announced when they reached the steps.

Catherine blushed, but Mary’s chin lifted, a touch of defiance Cameron approved. They all knew her father would not be glad of this news. Perhaps they’d send him a letter to inform him of what they’d done, and he and Mary would go straight to Sutherland rather than directly back to Rose. He knew they’d have to return eventually. Mary’s sense of obligation and duty would drive her back to make sure Rose—the clan and her father—were well cared for before she could move away with a clear conscience. Still, he’d prefer they not return right away. They deserved some time to themselves.

For now, they were to be married. The priest cleared his throat and they all turned to face him. He kept the ceremony blessedly short, including both couples in the lessons and prayers rather than repeating the entire ceremony for each. Iain had confided that the man was little pleased at having to marry two couples at once—something he’d never done before. He’d made it clear he expected to be paid properly for officiating for both couples, Iain had added with a laugh.

When the time came to move inside the kirk and repeat their vows, the priest called Cameron and Mary, as the eldest couple, forward first. They made their vows, then stepped aside for Kenneth and Catherine. Cameron watched, fascinated by the love and hope in both their expressions. He wasn’t a praying man, but he prayed for a long and happy life for them—and for him and Mary.

Finally, the priest declared them all man and wife and ended the ceremony with a last blessing. Cameron wrapped an arm around Mary, then had to release her so she could hug her youngest sister. “I canna believe we did this together,” she exclaimed, “but I’m glad we did.”

“I’m happy to share this day with ye and Cameron,” Catherine said tearfully, reaching for Kenneth with one hand, the other in Mary’s.

“Let’s go to the hall,” Annie said, ever the organizer. “Dinner is waiting, as is the rest of the clan, to greet the newlyweds.”

The rest of the afternoon and evening were some of the longest hours Cameron ever spent. All he could think about was getting Mary back to their chamber. Yet she seemed so vibrantly happy with the celebration, he couldn’t bear the thought of taking her from it. In fairness, he enjoyed it too. In addition to a wealth of food and drink, the hall rang with music and dancing. The entire clan crowded in and seemed bent on enjoying every last moment of the celebration.

Then, finally, the time came to leave the hall. Cameron took Mary’s hand and stood while Kenneth did the same with Catherine. With a bow to Iain and Annie, another to each other, and a last to the friends and family gathered in the hall, Cameron and Mary took their leave, followed by Kenneth and Catherine.

* * *

After the wedding feast, as Cameron walked her back to their chamber, Mary clutched his hand and marveled. She was married. Truly married in the eyes of the kirk and the king. She laid her free hand over her chest, feeling her heart beat under the cool satin fabric. At least she was dressed fit for court. She recalled Seona taunting her about her unsuitable clothes and fingered the edge of her silk chemise, then ran a hand down her heavy brocaded skirt. Not that the child king languishing down in England would care what she wore to be married, nor would he have any idea what being married meant. She spared a moment for an uncharitable thought—if only Seona could see her now.

In truth, she wished their father had forgotten his stubborn pride and come with them to see his eldest and youngest daughters wed—together. He should have been proud. Their maman surely would have been. Mary missed her fiercely on special days like this. But she could not let sadness mar her joy at marrying Cameron. For Mary, marriage meant freedom as well as love and companionship and care from Cameron. And the same from her to him. She felt different, but didn’t know why. Was it the permanence of the vows they’d taken? ’Til death they do part. She felt no guilt for no longer being her father’s dutiful daughter. She felt justified. She felt like a new person. As wonderful as the handfasting had been, and as liberating as she’d thought it was at the time, this was so much more. “Do ye feel different?” she asked Cameron, wondering if he had similar thoughts running through his mind.

He pondered for a moment before answering. “I do. ’Tis odd, is it no’? Nothing has really changed, yet everything has.”

“Exactly! I didna expect to feel so differently, but ’tis like we’ve turned a corner, and everything is new. A new country we’ve never seen before.”

They reached their door and Cameron opened it, then scooped her up and carried her inside. He set her on her feet before closing it softly behind them, then pulled her into his arms. “Whatever the difference is, I like it.”

“As do I,” Mary answered, reaching up to brush her lips across his. “I can do this as often as I like now. Any time I like.”

“And I can do this,” Cameron answered with a grin, then kissed her back, softly at first, then with more ardor, his lips whispering over hers, then his tongue as he deepened the kiss. “And this.” He pulled the jeweled pins—the ones Annie had loaned her—from her hair until, like cool honey rolling slowly from the lip of a jar, it tumbled down her back and swayed along her hips. “Glorious,” he breathed, studying her before he untied the borrowed jeweled necklace and removed it from her throat. “And I can do so much more.” He kissed his way down her throat.

Mary’s breasts tingled, anticipating Cameron’s touch. She didn’t care if he used his fingers, his lips, or his tongue. All those possibilities made her blood rush hotly through her veins. Her body grew damp and hungry.

Instead, Cameron returned his attention to her mouth while he untied and loosened her laces, then tugged her dress from her shoulders. He followed the fabric, running his tongue down her neck and across her shoulder while he made certain the heavy satin pooled on the floor at her feet. Then he knelt and helped her slip off her fine silk slippers. Only when she stood before him in nothing but her silk chemise did he rise and trail his fingers down her throat and chest between her breasts. He cupped them in his hands and teased her nipples to fine, tight points. Mary let her head drop back, enjoying the frissons of excitement racing from them to the melting place between her thighs.

Deciding she couldn’t take any more without reciprocating, she reached for the brooch holding Cameron’s plaid on his shoulder and unpinned it. She set it on the bedside table, then unbuckled his belt and pulled the yards of his great kilt from his shoulder and around his waist until it made a puddle of fabric on the floor even larger than her dress. “I think I’m going to enjoy married life,” she teased and reached out, cupping him through his fine lawn shirt.

“I already do,” Cameron answered, his voice a gruff, low rumble Mary could feel even where her palm cradled his heat.

“Take this off,” she commanded and lifted the bottom edge of his shirt to his waist.

He grinned and took it from her, then pulled the cloth over his head.

Mary couldn’t take her eyes from the flex of his abdominal muscles, or the way his staff stood proudly away from its nest of brown curls. As the shirt cleared Cameron’s head, his massive arm and shoulder muscles caught her attention as they bunched and flexed, then smoothed as he dropped his arms to his sides. He cocked his head, drawing her attention back to the wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I was right, all those weeks ago. Ye do like looking at me.”

“I told ye then that I did. And I still do. I always will.” She stepped closer, but he held her from him.

“Nay, lass. ’Tisna fair. Ye are still dressed. I’ll have ye out of yer silks, too.” He tipped his head to the side, studying her. “So beautiful. I dinna ken whether I want to watch ye remove them, or help ye do it.”

Mary smirked and stepped back. Without a word, she slipped the chemise off one shoulder and shrugged the cloth aside, turning and glancing coyly over it. Then she turned her back and let the fabric fall away. Holding it over her breasts, she shifted her hips.

Cameron groaned. “Ye are killing me, lass.”

She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, then let the fabric slip down to drape around her hips. “Shall I turn around?”

“God’s teeth, I dinna ken. I like the view of your full, sweet arse so much, I canna choose.”

He reached for her but she twisted away and turned to face him, then dropped the last of her clothing. Standing before him completely nude, her arms at her side, she felt powerful and liberated, the hunger in his gaze matched by the longing in her heart to hold this man to her for the rest of her life. “Can ye decide now?”

Cameron shook his head. “No’ yet. Turn for me, Mary. Let me admire ye some more.”

She rose up on her toes and pirouetted, flinging her arms over her head, her hair flying, then letting her hands drop to cradle the back of her neck before she turned to face him yet again.

Cameron’s lips parted and he licked them. His erection, already massive when she stripped him, grew and purpled before her gaze.

In response, she arched her back even more and took a step back toward the bed. “Have ye no’ decided yet? Perhaps ye need to touch, no’ just look.” She lowered her arms and kept going until she felt the bed behind her, then sat and leaned back, letting her thighs fall open.

Cameron groaned and stumbled forward, landing on his knees before her. He took one foot in hand and kissed it, then stroked her arch with his tongue before he nibbled on each toe. Then he kissed his way up her calf and trailed his tongue around her knee.

Mary lay back, enjoying the sensations spiraling from her foot and leg. Cameron’s tongue did magical things there. When he moved higher, trailing his tongue up the inside of her thigh, fire ignited and spread throughout her body.

Cam tucked her legs over his shoulders and parted her intimate curls with a finger. “So beautiful and so sweet. Mary, my love, I must taste ye.”

His touch sent her flying. She thought she should be embarrassed by his regard, but he made her want him so, she didn’t mind. He could do with her whatever he wished, as long as the sensations he gave her kept growing stronger and more delicious. When his lips followed his finger, Mary bucked, seeking more. Then he stroked her with his tongue, and Mary came apart, gasping and crying out his name.

* * *

Cameron had never had a partner as responsive as his Mary. His love. She delighted him with her spirit, humbled him with her strength, and enchanted him with her lush body and her teasing. As she’d undressed, he couldn’t believe her new confidence as she displayed herself for his pleasure, or how much he wanted her. He had gone from erect to hard as a steel shaft when she gave him one glance over her shoulder and a saucy twitch of her hips. It had been all he could do to stay still and let her enjoy seducing him.

And seduce him, she had. He’d never been so beguiled by a lass in his life. Once he felt her flying to her crest and floating down the other side, he stood and leaned over her, kissing and licking his way up her body, enjoying every taste, every scent he encountered. Her nipples, like ripe berries, begged to be plucked and tasted, savored and suckled. She writhed beneath his mouth, her thighs caressing his hardness until he couldn’t take any more. He had to be inside her.

He stretched out on the bed and pulled her up alongside him, then moved over her and brought her hand to his cock. “Do ye feel how much ye make me want ye?” he teased. She stroked him and smiled, nearly making him come when she licked her lips. He pulled away and lowered himself to her thighs.

She parted them. “Take me, husband. I need ye inside me. Now.”

He wanted to take her slowly, inch by inch, but as soon as his moist tip encountered her liquid heat, he couldn’t hold himself back. He drove into her with a groan he felt to his balls, then pulled back and did it again. She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he forced himself to slow into a pace that would pleasure her while extending his endurance. But when she reached down and skimmed his buttocks with her palms, then squeezed them, he was lost. He came with a roar, driving into her and gathering her into his arms as tightly as he could while his body pulsed and shook with the ecstasy she’d given him. “My God, Mary, my love…” He rocked her, easing up to let her breathe, then rolled to the side, still within her, and rocked them some more.

“That was…”

Her words cut off as he covered her mouth with his and kissed her as if the only air he could live on came from her. Still deep in her body, his cock sprang back to life. “I need ye so, Mary, my love. Ye canna ken.”

She clenched around him and chuckled. “I think I have some idea, my love. My husband.”

Taking that for permission, he rolled to his back, keeping her impaled on him, then lifted and lowered her. She responded and he let her set the pace, enjoying the bob and sway of her breasts above him. He pushed up and took one sweet peak in his mouth, making her cry out and clench even more tightly around him until he felt the pulses of her climax. He licked and suckled while she calmed, then drove into her. When his own climax hit, he arched up calling her name. Holding him tightly to her, she wrapped her arms around his neck while he rode his release. He’d never felt so wanted, so needed, or so powerful. He’d searched for a long time, never knowing someone like Mary waited for him. But he’d found her and he would never let her go.