Xavier was offering to give up his life and come with her into the outside world, and all he was asking was that she marry him in the place that was home to him first. These were his people. This was his church. Which reminded her, there was something more she needed to sort out before she could rest tonight.
“Xavier, you told me Lachlan couldn’t kill you because it was your magic supporting this place. That must be true, because he imprisoned you twice even though he had the chance to do more.”
“Aye.”
“These people aren’t ready for the modern world. If you leave, what happens to them?”
He leaned a shoulder against the side of the window and stared out over the village. “Leaving and being dead are two very different things. My magic has seeped into this place for centuries. As long as I’m alive, the magic I’ve put in place here will survive. If Lachlan had killed me, yes, the wards would have fallen, and even if he used his own magic to replace them, the variety of crops we grow here, the animals we raise, they wouldna thrive the way they do under ma care.”
“But you can’t leave forever.”
“Nay. I’ll need to come back regularly. Maybe a month or two every year. Do ye think ye could stand bein’ Lady Dunchridhe part-time?”
Avery looked out over the village toward the people who had helped her save Xavier. Some, like Aeden, had become friends. All of them needed Xavier in order to maintain the life they’d made here. And the truth was, they’d all needed her. While she had a choice—Xavier could and would come here alone if he had to—she realized she didn’t want that. She cared about this place too.
“I would be honored.”
“Then ye’ll marry me, here, tomorrow?”
A long pause stretched between them as she contemplated his question. “Would you consider getting married twice?”
He gave her a quizzical look. She gave him a wide, sheepish smile. He didn’t even ask her for an explanation.
“Aye. I’ll marry ye as many times as ye like.”
“It’s just, my family is there.”
“Aye.” He raised his eyebrows. “I promise ye we’ll have it in the way of yer people as well.”
She stepped into his arms and raised a hand to his cheek. “Then yes, I will marry you.”
Xavier beamed as if she’d given him the greatest gift he’d ever desired. He cradled her face and kissed her solidly on the mouth. Avery gave herself over to him with reckless abandon, trying her best to wrap a leg around him in her oversized clothes.
He pulled away much too quickly. “Now, let’s find ye a proper room.”
“What? Don’t you want to stay together? In the same bed, I mean?” She frowned up at him.
He raised a scandalized eyebrow. “What type of man do ye take me for, lass? Not before we’re married!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next morning, Avery was jarred from her slumber by Mistress Abernathy and a gaggle of her friends. It was barely dawn, but the women propped her in front of a mirror, poking and prodding her as they arranged her hair in various styles. After some insisting on her part, they allowed her to use the chamber pot and have a little breakfast, which she ate wearing only her shift as Mistress Abernathy styled her hair in a series of intricate braids.
“I really don’t think this is necessary,” she said. “Something simple—”
“Hush. I won’t hear of it.”
“What is that noise in the hall? It sounds like someone’s chopping wood?”
“Oh, but that’s exactly what it is,” Abernathy said, her round cheeks mounding with her grin. “Xavier ordered all the furniture to be removed from his chambers and all new brought in. He didna want anything in there Lachlan had touched. Anyway, a few of the men decided it would be easier to remove if they chopped the bed into firewood. I don’t blame ’em. It would be right unlucky for anyone to use it. Might hold a fairy curse.”
Avery’s first instinct was to laugh at the idea of anyone being afraid of cursed furniture, but then the memory of those bright green plants shooting out of the ground and spraying her with poison pollen filled her head. Thank the stars above Xavier was replacing it all. Even the thought of touching something Lachlan had been in contact with gave her the heebie-jeebies.
“Mistress Abernathy, can you help me find—”
She was cut off when a man with a narrow face and highly arched brows burst in, a bundle of wrappings in his arms.
“Ah, this is Mr. MacGowan, our tailor,” Mistress Abernathy said. “He’s brought your dress.”
Avery’s mood brightened.
“Come, lass.” Mr. MacGowan beckoned. “This is my own creation. I hope ye will forgive that I did not make it specifically for ye. It was something of a labor of love actually. I keep it in my workshop to inspire me, but I believe it will fit ye with a bit of light tailoring.”
She stood and peeled back the wrappings. “I’d love to try it.”
“It would be my honor.”
He and Mistress Abernathy helped her pull it over her shift and lace up the bodice. The dress was constructed of fine pale silk hand stitched with silver thread in an intricate pattern of falling feathers. Once laced, the bodice cinched in her waist, giving her naturally curvy shape more definition. Billowy fabric skimmed her arms to her elbows and then flared out in a wide, oblong cuff that draped to her wrist at the back of her arm but ended just past her elbow at the front. Over that, he helped her with a hooded, sleeveless coat that was the same color as Xavier’s ring and constructed of fine velvet lined in pearls. It fastened at the waist with a pearl broach. When Mr. MacGowan had finished helping her into a pannier to make the skirt appear full, the effect was breathtaking. Silver, gold, and positively regal.
“I love it.”
The tailor smiled. “It suits you, and aside from letting the hem out to accommodate your height, I have few alterations to make. I’ll have no problems having this ready in time.”
Mistress Abernathy started to cry. “The amber brings out your eyes! Xavier is a lucky man.”
Avery looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. Everything about this felt right. Better than she’d ever imagined.
After Mr. MacGowan measured her for some additional dresses—something she supposed she’d need if she came back here with Xavier on occasion—he left, and Mistress Abernathy kept her busy with choosing a menu for the feast to follow. The kitchen staff had already planned several things, and Avery made sure to keep her requests simple and easy to prepare. She told them all she expected them to attend as well.
As the afternoon sun began to descend, she changed into the now perfectly tailored dress and donned the pearl-encrusted slippers the cobbler gave her. She descended the stairs to the sound of cheers. It humbled her to see all the women who worked in the castle gathered below, dressed in their finest.
“Where are the men?” she asked Mistress Abernathy.
“Xavier wanted to be the first to see ye. They’re all at the kirk.”
A carriage, drawn by a handsome white horse, was waiting for her outside the castle. One of the servants helped her inside. She looked back at Mistress Abernathy.
“Donna worry, lass. We’re right behind you.”
As she traveled through the village toward the kirk at the end of the road, Avery thought about her journey here. Every choice she’d made along the way had brought her closer to this, closer to Xavier. And it was with some surprise that she realized she was happy. She did not resent a single day she’d been here. She did not feel taken advantage of. She felt powerful and wanted and like her whole life, the best of times, was just ahead of her.
The carriage stopped. She peeked out the window and saw that the women from the castle had arrived in carriages behind her and now flooded into the kirk. A line of men with bagpipes formed outside the door, and Avery laughed when she saw they all had their eyes tightly scrunched shut. At the prompting of their leader, they began to play the sweetest tune she’d ever heard. Her door opened,
and the driver, whom she now saw was a woman, helped her down.
The doors to the church opened and there was Xavier, standing at the altar. When he saw her, even at a distance, his body’s physical response was apparent. His eyes flared, his grin broadened, and his chest seemed to puff with pride.
Placing a hand over his heart, he bowed.
She curtsied her reply.
And then he stomped his foot.
The men, who up to this point had either had their backs to her or their eyes closed, turned to look at her, and there was a collective gasp. Her cheeks warmed.
The music changed.
The world faded away. There was only Xavier and her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered an ancient-looking priest who began muttering in Gaelic. She wished she still had the mole Nathaniel had made for her. She had no idea what the priest was saying.
Thankfully, they exchanged vows in English. Their hands were bound. And then he was kissing her, and it was like someone had turned on the lights and the sound again. Her surroundings came back into sharp focus.
The cheers were deafening as he led her back to the carriage, smiling and waving. She breathed a sigh of contentment when they were finally alone.
“You are breathtaking, Mrs. Campbell.”
Her cheeks heated at the name. “There’s something I’ve forgotten to remind you of. I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m sure with everything you don’t remember. This all happened so fast.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“It’s my family’s tradition for women to keep our surname. I am a Tanglewood witch. My last name must remain Tanglewood.”
A hint of dissatisfaction curled his lip. “Keep yer own name? You were serious about that.”
She frowned. “It isn’t that unusual where I’m from. It’s the rule of my family.”
His brows knit low on his forehead.
“If it helps, I can be Mrs. Campbell here. I don’t think anyone on the outside will care what they address me as in the builgean.”
For a moment they rode in silence, the gentle clip-clop of the horse’s hooves counting down the moments as he seemed to consider her offer. Her stomach clenched. The Tanglewood name was not something she was willing to give up, not now that she understood who and what she was. Relief came in the form of his lopsided grin and a nod.
“Aye. In Paragon, we go only by first names, ye ken? The idea should not bother me.”
“But it does.” She saw the slight damping of his smile.
He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “Nay. I have ye as ma mate. People can call ye whatever they want as long as they respect this and the bond it represents.” He held up their joined hands, and the beautifully cut golden-topaz-and-diamond ring that looked so much like his own sparkled in the low light.
They arrived back at the castle, and he helped her down from the carriage, ushering her into the grand hall where a feast was set. Xavier introduced her to the guests, and she tried her best to remember everyone’s names, but there were far too many to commit to memory. What she did remember was the thankfulness, the warm and heartfelt words of gratitude for her ending Lachlan’s reign. And although she tried to explain that she couldn’t have done it without Xavier, the clan seemed convinced that the glory should go to her.
“I’d do it again, you know,” she told Xavier. “I’m not a killer, but I don’t regret turning Tàirn around or ending Lachlan.”
“Good,” Xavier said. “Ye shouldna regret bein’ a hero.”
By the time they had the luxury of a seat at the head table, her feet hurt and her stomach was growling. The hall quieted and the bard, the same one she’d first seen at the Lion and the Hare, began to play. He played the same tune, but the words sounded different.
“What’s he saying?” she asked, wishing again she’d not lost Nathaniel’s magic.
“It’s about ye,” he said. “It’s a song about how ye freed the village, killed Lachlan, and rescued the dragon.”
“That’s flattering.” She squeezed Xavier’s hand beneath the table.
“Aye. Already writin’ songs about ye.” He winked. “Ye’ll make a fine lady.”
She looked out across their guests, her clan, and decided that come what may, she would try to be.
Although Xavier had wanted to do right by Avery by having her sleep in a different room the night before, now that they were married, he struggled to maintain his patience. He wanted her, enough that his inner beast roiled uncomfortably beneath his skin. He hadn’t been with her since she’d consented to be his mate, and his innermost instincts craved to mark her as his own.
No sooner had she finished eating than he started the process of saying their goodbyes and moving her in measured increments toward their chambers. Thankfully, she didn’t fight him on that and soon the door was closed behind them.
Avery gave a sigh of relief. “I thought we’d never get out of—”
He cut her off with a kiss. Thank the Mountain, she didn’t resist when he drew her to him and covered her mouth with his own. His mating trill rumbled against her chest. Laughing, she playfully thrust him away, hard enough he actually took a step back.
“Ye’re stronger.”
“Yes. Whatever brand of witch I am, I fight like a superhero.”
“Whit’s a superhero?”
“Never mind. Get me out of this dress. I can hardly breathe.”
That he would happily help her with. A talon extended from his right hand, and he sliced through her laces. She raised her eyebrows as the gown fell to the floor. “I only meant for you to untie me, but I suppose that will work.”
“Come, wife.” When he reached for her, she dodged his hungry fingers, seeming to revel in her newfound speed. He grunted. Xavier narrowed his eyes and grinned at the challenge. “I can think o’ no better way ta test yer newfound abilities than with ye under me.”
“You put a ring on my finger, and you think you can bed me anytime you wish?” she taunted playfully.
“Aye,” Xavier growled. Once more, he tried for her and she sidestepped his reach. “That’s the way of things. Now come to me.”
She shook her head, a few tendrils of hair falling from her braids and framing her face. “You can have me when you can catch me.”
“Do I have yer word on that?” He gave her a low warning growl. If that was the game she wished to play, he’d be happy to oblige. He lowered into a predatory crouch.
She responded by dropping her shift, leaving herself naked across the bed from him. His vision focused in the way of a dragon. He noticed every hair on her arms, every microscopic shift of her skin.
He dived across the bed, his wings knocking a tapestry off the wall as he pivoted midflight. She was faster now than any human, but she could not fly. He snagged her waist near the window, and she turned to him, wild-eyed and breathless.
Sweeping her into his arms, he tossed her facedown on the bed to the sound of her squeals, then hitched his fingers into her hips and drew her to the edge on her knees. She looked over her shoulder at him, the luscious mound of her arse in the air, begging for him to take her. Her chest rose and fell in pants. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest.
Drawing his hand back, he smacked her bottom hard enough to get her attention. “That’s fur teasin’ me.”
She fisted the fur blanket on the bed and gave a sultry moan. “I think I should tease you more often.”
“Say yer mine.”
She gave him a defiant smile.
He spanked her again.
She spread her knees wider. “Xavier, please. I’m going to combust.”
He trailed a finger between her legs, into her moist heat. She was wet and hot, and his feral need for her was almost uncontrollable. Almost.
He dropped his kilt and positioned himself at her opening. His dragon chuffed to bury himself in her. “Say you’re mine, wife.”
She gazed over her shoulder at him through her lashes, her heav
y lids halfway closed. “I’m yours. Always.”
He drove into her, burying himself inside her in one slick thrust. She moaned, clawed the bed, and pushed back against him. He skimmed his hand along her waist, cupped one of her breasts, and pinched her nipple.
She moaned again and ground against him. “Xavier.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m yours. Only yours.”
He drew back slowly and thrust into her again. This time she cried out and her muscles gripped him in a way that was sweet torture. He circled her waist with his hands and started to move in a gentle rhythm. But she met his gentle strokes with hard, sharp bucks, driving his thrusts deeper. He stroked along her spine, her skin, soft as silk.
“More,” she cried.
And that was all he could take with being gentle. He spread his wings and pounded into her. He worked one knee onto the bed, and she spread wider to accommodate him. He filled her completely, her body tight around him until his thrusts became almost frantic as she clawed the fur and begged him for more. Finally her body seized, and she cried out, her inner muscles gripping him in a delicious rhythm that sent him over the edge.
As he released inside her, the possessive growl that tore from his chest rattled the walls. He supported her through the aftershocks, then collapsed onto the bed beside her.
“By the Mountain, you’ll be the death of me, woman.”
She laughed. “I think I’m the one wandering into the dragon’s den.”
“I didna hurt ye, did I?”
“You didn’t.”
“Good. I was afraid I got a bit rough with ye. Every time I try to be gentle, ye drive me harder. Makin’ love to ye is like doin’ battle.”
“I like it rough,” she said, and he noticed her cheeks pinkened. “I never knew that about myself until I met you. You’ve unlocked so many secrets for me, Xavier.”
He glanced down his body toward his cock. “If the key fits.”
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