They stopped at the first kirk they saw.

Remote, and small, built of stone, the Celtic cross at its peak beckoned them like a lighted tower to a lost ship. Dirk grinned when he’d seen it, relief relaxing his shoulders. “A kirk for travelers. Prayers for their weary journey.”

Lilias was pretty certain she’d never seen a better sight. They would be married. Until now, when she’d thought of her upcoming nuptials nothing but dread had consumed her. But at that moment, elation filled her. A sense of excitement and anticipation. Dirk would be her husband.

“We wish to marry right away,” Dirk told the priest who was just finishing up a meager meal, what looked to be a thin and watery stew. “And we’d best do so inside rather than on the kirk front stairs.”

She knew why. He wanted the walls of the kirk as protection in case Olafsson’s men followed them closer than they expected.

“We dinna get many visitors of late,” the priest said, glancing around at the dusty pews. He wiped his hands on his robes, then glanced at Lilias. “Are ye willing and able to wed of your own free will, lass?”

Unable to hold back her grin, for were those words not so like Dirk’s when he’d proposed they do so? She nodded. “Aye.”

“I’ll not be having your father coming to burn down my kirk for allowing it?” The priest glanced behind them, as if expecting a man to burst through.

She shook her head, keeping out the fact that Olafsson might, though she was certain Dirk would take precautions for the priest.

“Good.” He glanced at Dirk and held out his hand. “We accept donations, my laird.”

Gunnar handed him a rather large pouch of coins and then the priest was overly happy to begin the service, no doubt planning the meals he’d have for the next month or two now that his coffers were once again full. First, he took their confessions, and a few moments later, sped through the vows, as Dirk had requested. As Lilias repeated the words, she feared at any moment their enemies would break down the door and demand her return.

When the priest came to the part about the exchange of rings, Dirk pulled a gold and emerald ring from his pinky finger and placed it on her left ring finger. The jewel sparkled in the candlelight.

“A MacDougall heirloom,” he murmured. “My grandmother gave it to me to give to my future wife.”

Tears of happiness stung her eyes. “I’m honored to have it. ’Tis beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as ye are, beag calman.”

A moment later, the priest declared them man and wife. A shiver shot through her, warming her heart and making her feel as though she floated on air. Never had a more exhilarating feeling burst through Lilias. Wife! They were wed! Dirk was hers and she was his.

Dirk bent to kiss her, cupping her face and gazing into her eyes. “Mo chridhe,” he whispered, descending. She wrapped her arms around his middle pulling him closer, needing to feel the contact between them. Their lips met in a surge of excitement, and to the cheers of the men who bore witness to their union.

Though she would have kissed him for hours, the connection was brief, because time was of the essence.

They made haste from the kirk, traveling until dark when they came upon a quiet traveler’s inn. After assuring the innkeeper had enough space and food for all of them, Dirk ordered a hot meal to be sent up to the room in two hours’ time, which scored a laugh from all of his men.

Lilias, gazing at him with puzzlement, asked, “Why two hours? I could eat much sooner than that.”

Of course, that got a rise out of all the men, and Dirk chuckled, too. He swept her up into his arms and whispered against her ear, “Because I intend to ravish ye, love. Ye’ll forget all about food in a moment.”

Dirk carried Lilias up the roughhewn wooden staircase to the bedchamber, nuzzling her neck and making her forget all about the teasing from below stairs. The chamber they’d been given was mostly clean. Flowers adorned the single table, with two chairs, giving a light, floral scent to the otherwise musty room. A nice touch the innkeeper’s wife must have seen to. Most places along the road were lucky to have clean bedding, and rarely flowers, at least that’s what she’d been told.

The chamber was cozy with large enough bed for two, though the mattress was sunken. Two candles were lit, one on the table with the flowers and one beside the bed, and a low fire blazed in the hearth.

The pink light of a setting sun streamed in through the single, small square window where the covering had been pulled back to allow air to circulate.

“Beag calman.” Dirk’s lips grazed her jaw as he breathed in the scent of her hair, and she wrapped her arms tighter around him, toying with the hair at his nape. “I was in such torment when I thought ye might not be mine.”

She gently tugged a lock of his hair. “I still feel like this is a dream. A wonderful dream from which I dinna want to wake.” A whirlwind truly, for not twenty-four hours ago, saints, even this morning, she’d been certain she was off to face her doom. And now, she was wrapped in the soothing, tender, wonderful embrace of the man she loved.

Dirk grinned at her, nibbling her lower lip. “’Tis no dream, love. We are together now and always.”

Lilias cupped the side of his face and kissed him gently, savoring that they were finally alone for the first of many times. Saints, but she liked kissing him. And she was getting better at it, too. Bolder. The thought of never having him with her again had roused her to a level of braveness she’d not thought she possessed. “Always. I love ye, Dirk MacDougall, Lord of the Isles, Laird of my heart.”

Her husband inhaled deeply through his nose, as though he were trying to maintain a measure of control. But then he let it all out in a rush. “I love ye, too, beag calman. Can ye feel my heart pounding for ye?”

She giggled, pressing her hand to his heart, where it did indeed pound against her palm. “Can ye feel mine answering your call?”

Dirk slid his gaze from her face down to her breast, the place where her heart beat. Sensing his hesitation, Lilias grasped his hand, and though a flush crept from her neck up to her face, she forged ahead and gently laid his palm in place at the center of her chest. His hand was enormous compared to hers, spanning over her heart to touch the swells of her breasts.

Glancing up at him through her lashes, she said, “Ye can touch me, husband. Every day for the rest of our lives.”

Dirk grinned wolfishly. “I plan to. ’Tis beating so fast. Now ’tis I who feels like I’m in a dream.” Gently he placed her down, her feet skimming the fronts of his boots.

She was a tall woman, but around him, Lilias always felt petite, and somehow that was pleasing.

Though he’d put her down, he didn’t stop touching her. And she him. They seemed unable to part fully. One of his hands remained on her heart, and the other slid over her hip, tucking her flush against him, and making her breath catch. Every solid line of sinew molded to her softer curves. And there was one rigid force in particular that pressed hotly to the crux of her thighs. Lilias bit her lip, knowing what it was, and thrilling at the way that intimate touch sent a frisson of pleasure tingling through her.

Dirk pressed his forehead to hers, gazing into her eyes. “I’ve wanted ye since the day ye walked through my castle doors.”

Lilias sighed, pressing closer. “Make me yours fully.”

Dirk settled his mouth on hers, nibbling gently, and she sank against him, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. She loved kissing Dirk. If making love was anything like the way he kissed, then she knew she’d enjoy that, too. He was gentle, masterful, and her entire body came alive in his arms.

Where once she’d been so filled with fear, now her happiness knew no bounds. She’d been the ripple, following the path of MacDougall ladies before her. She’d endured, just as her mother taught her—and somehow she knew, her mother would be proud of her. Her mother would have wanted this. Lilias and Dirk together would vanquish the enemies of Scotland. At least that was how it felt at the moment.

Lilias clung to her husband’s shirt, kneading the muscles beneath as his hand slid from her heart to her breast. He cupped the rounded globe and slid his thumb over her nipple, causing her to gasp at the sudden rush of feeling as the skin there grew taut, an infinite and delicious ache that hooked onto an invisible line linking straight to her core.

“I love the way ye respond to me,” he murmured against her mouth.

“Never stop,” she ordered softly. However nervous she was about the marriage bed, she was exceedingly more filled with anticipation. She wanted this. Dirk made her feel comfortable, beautiful, desired, safe. Opening herself up to him was only natural. And wonderful.

“Never.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down on its surface and sprawling out beside her.

She sank into the straw mattress, rolling slightly to the side to gaze at her husband, memorizing every line of his handsome face. They lay there, murmuring words of love, smiling with pure joy and triumph. At last, they’d made it. The journey and the risk had been treacherous. But here they were. Reveling in each other.

“Ye canna imagine the pain I felt when I looked below the ridge and saw Olafsson’s men waiting to steal ye away from me. ’Twas as though we were on the battlefield again and instead of fighting back, I was simply ripping off my armor and letting him hack at my chest with a poleaxe.” Dirk kissed her, nibbling at her lower lip, drawing lazy circles on her hip with his fingers.

“When I looked down there, all I saw were wolves. Fear filled me, panic that they might tear me apart before presenting me to their liege.” She shivered, but not from fear this time, instead because Dirk was caressing her breasts, nuzzling her neck. The heat of his breath on her skin caused goose flesh to rise and follow the path of his lips. Made her forget about what could have happened.

“I think I knew I wasna going to let ye go before we left Dunstaffnage. I spent the hours on the road trying to convince myself otherwise.” He licked her collarbones, and then drew his heated mouth down the length of her bodice, hovering over one turgid nipple and then the other. “For how could I ever have let that beast touch ye like this?”

Lilias whimpered. Oh, how she wanted to rip her clothes off to feel the heat of his mouth on her bare flesh. Soft, fluttery fingers slid down the length of her legs. He toyed with her ankles, unlacing and flipping off her boots, and then slid his hands slowly over her calves to undo her hose just above the knee. As he rolled the wool down her legs, he kissed her gently on her knee, her calf, her ankle. Every place he touched heated, sending an arrow straight to her core. A barrage, a siege. That was how she felt. She was a castle and he the conquering warrior—except she welcomed him, wanted him. Would gladly open to him.

Lilias sighed, gasped, her breathing erratic and little mewling sounds that she’d never thought to make escaped her.

“Ye have beautiful, long legs.” Dirk trailed kisses back up her legs just to her inner thigh just above her knee, then rose above her to claim her lips once more.

He rolled to the side, then his back, taking her with him so that she lay atop him, and as he kissed her, deftly untied the laces at the back of her bodice.

When she sat up, straddling him, the heat of that very hard part of him was so close to her own center, sending wild frissons to pulse through her core. Her gown fell loose around her shoulders and Dirk pulled it over her head, leaving her in only her chemise, but that was soon gone, too.

Her husband stared up at her in amazement, his hands resting hotly on her thighs, her breasts rising and falling with her heavy breaths. Every part of her felt alive, sparking. Desired.

His heady gaze raked over her, making the place between her legs tingle. “Ye’re exquisite.”

“Thank ye.” She felt herself blush at his heated gaze. “I want to see ye, too.” Lilias tugged at his shirt, sliding her hands beneath, feeling the warm, muscled flesh of his abdomen, the light sprinkling of hair tickling her palm.

Dirk did not move her from her straddled position as he unpinned his plaid, tugged off his shirt, and unbuckled his belt, letting the fabric of his tartan fall open. He lay beneath her just as exposed, the thickness of his arousal jutting up between her legs. The sight of him was… shocking to say the least, but sent a titillating thrill of excitement racing through her limbs, too.

Boldly, she reached to touch him, her fingers wrapping around the turgid length, her thumb brushing over the ridge and velvet tip. She was amazed that something this hard could be so silky-smooth. Eyes wide, she gazed at this very male, very erotic, part of him. She’d never seen anything so incredibly mesmerizing. She gave him a little squeeze, thrilled to see the way the muscles of his belly tightened in response.

The muscle in Dirk’s jaw ticked, and he breathed hard through his nose. “Saints, lass…”

“Is this not pleasing?” She slid her grip up his length, and his entire body tightened beneath her.

“Incredibly pleasing,” he said through gritted teeth. “If ye continue, there will be no claiming this night, for I will spend right into your delicate hand.”

Lilias giggled. “Is that so?” she teased, and gave him one more stroke.

Dirk growled, “Aye,” before flipping her back over, settling himself between her thighs.

He loomed over her, intense, powerful and alluring. Every inch of her skin sizzled with anticipation.

“Ye’re a vixen,” he murmured, leaning down toward her breasts and flicking his tongue out over her very puckered nipple.

Lilias nearly bucked off the bed, gripping tight to his shoulders, the move causing her sensitive core to slide provocatively over his shaft. She arced into him, wanting to feel more of his tongue on her bare skin, and when he complied, she gasped at the pleasurable sensations that thrummed through her veins from head to toe. Dirk growled in answer, a feral, primal sound that made her want to cry out in response. And when he gently bit her nipple, she did.

“And ye’re a…,” Lilias could barely catch her breath. “What is the male version of temptress?”

Dirk chuckled as he skimmed down the length of her torso, a wicked glint in his eye as his mouth hovered over her sex. Her eyes widened as he tasted her, and then they fell shut as shocking, glorious bliss took over with every heated, devilish stroke of his tongue.

“I believe that would make me a debaucher…” As he spoke, he licked. Again and again. The rumble of his voice vibrated on the very heat of her, accentuating the stroking of his tongue. “A role I am more than happy to play for ye, my vixen.”

Lilias moaned, as his fingers found her center, sliding inside her, stretching her, while his tongue worked its magic. She held her breath, pleasure mounting, until she could do nothing but moan and gasp and let the flashes of heat ripple through her, diving deep and spreading outward, like waves crashing and swirling sand on the beach. She cried out at the intense sensations, her hands threading through his hair, wanting him to stop and to keep going all at once.

“Ye climax beautifully,” Dirk murmured, climbing the length of her body and settling his hardened length at her entrance.

“Thank ye.” Lilias gazed at him, bemused, trying to catch her breath. She bit her lip. “I want to…taste ye, too.”

Dirk grinned mischievously. “Did I say vixen? I meant seductress.”

“Will ye let me?”

The muscle in his jaw ticked as he hovered over her, and she might have thought him upset, but she knew at once, by the way his eyes were darkening with passion that he was deliberating on the matter. “Aye. Be gentle, love.”

Lilias gave a triumphant laugh as he rolled them both over and she knelt before him, gliding her hands down his abdomen toward his turgid length. Gripping him, she leaned forward and touched her tongue to the tip. He drew in a harsh breath, his hands sliding over her back and threading through her hair.

Glancing up at him, she asked, “Is that all right?”

“Perfect,” he ground out.

With a triumphant grin, she licked him again, then took his length the rest of the way into her mouth. He tasted like salty silk on her tongue. But he only allowed her one tiny suck, before he wrenched her up and tossed her onto her back.

“I need to have ye, love. I canna let our first time end like this. Look what ye do to me.” He gripped his shaft, hard and long.

Lilias licked her lips, thrilling and craving more. She’d never imagined making love could be like this. “Then I did well?”

“More than well.” He leaned over her, kissing her languidly, his thigh parting her legs and rubbing tantalizingly along her sex. “Are ye ready for me, love?”

“Aye.” And she was, incredibly so. If he wanted to do this every night, she was more than willing to accommodate him.

Dirk pressed gently forward, as she clung to him, toes curled. Sweat beaded his brow and she could tell he was trying to go as slow and gently as he could. But the torment of it was unbearable. She lifted her pelvis, urging him deeper. Dirk groaned at the sudden tilt of her hips and thrust forward, through the barrier of her maidenhead. The sharp pinch was acute and startling. She’d known there would be pain, but with all the bliss she’d felt up until this point, she’d not expected it to be so intense. Fully seated inside her, he gazed down at her. Lilias wanted to pull her eyes away, to avoid looking at him. To shove him away.

But then he stroked her face and gently kissed her, so lovingly, it was like a balm to any pain she might have been feeling. “Are ye all right?”

Lilias blinked, nodded, biting her lip. The pain had been quick and was just as quickly fading. “The pain is easing,” she said, amazed.

“Tell me if this hurts.” Dirk slid out, and then slowly pushed back in. His breathing was deep, measured, and she imagined if he allowed himself to pant like she was, that his carefully orchestrated control would snap.

Lilias waited for the pain, but none came. Instead, that same pressure she’d felt when his mouth was on her core brushed its way up her thighs. Lifting her legs higher, Dirk slid one hand beneath her thigh, hitching it around his hip. She did the same on the other side, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

His pace was slow and gentle. Gliding in and out, kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts.

Aye, she’d been right… His lovemaking was much like his kisses. Infinitely full of pleasure and love. Intense and powerful. Amazing. Thrilling. She never wanted it to end.

They rocked together, murmuring of their love and joy, and when the time came that no more sound but audible cries of pleasure came, they rode the waves together.