The Heart of Love

by Platt, Meara

  “Do you think I might borrow some of your bedclothes for this evening?”

  “No, lass. Ye canno’.” He laughed softly. “I dinna have any.”

  “You don’t? What do you wear to bed?”

  “I sleep naked as the day I was born.” His smile broadened. “I dinna think ye’ll need to worry about bedclothes tonight. If ye grow cold, I’ll be warming yer sweet body.”

  She coughed. “Oh, I see.”

  He led her upstairs to his quarters. The chamber was not very large or opulent. Nevertheless, it was a cozy, inviting room and beautifully appointed. The bed was comfortable and big enough to easily fit both of them.

  He was pleased Mrs. Crawford had thought to set out a scented soap, some tooth powder, a hairbrush, and other amenities for Heather. Mr. Crawford had a fire blazing in the hearth, not that they really needed it. But they’d both be undressed soon, so he supposed it was helpful.

  The couple had also stocked the room for them, setting out more of the light repast they’d had downstairs. Some ham, fruit, bread, and scones to go with a pot of tea.

  While Heather took care of washing up before bed, Robbie removed his boots and jacket, then hastily washed up himself.

  When she was done, he took her back in his arms and gave her cheek a light caress. “Let me take the pins from yer hair. Feels good not to worry about where they might drop.”

  She smiled one of her entrancing pixie smiles and looked up at him with big eyes filled with love. “My heart is racing, Robbie.”

  “So is mine, lass.”

  She regarded him dubiously. “But you’ve done this before.”

  “Not with anyone I’ve ever loved. Ye have my heart, I hope ye know this.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad. I hope you love me deeply and irrevocably because if our wedding night is as calamitous as our courtship, we’ll be in trouble.”

  He laughed and kissed her on the lips, tasting the mint on them from her tooth powder. He liked that her mouth was soft and giving. “I dinna think we’ll have a problem, lass,” he whispered against her ear and began to feather kisses down her neck, liking when she gasped in response and tilted her neck to give him a better angle.

  He soon had her gown unlaced and the pins out of her hair. He buried his hands in the lush cascade of hair, loving the silky feel of it as the long strands slipped through his fingers. “Ye’re beautiful, my pixie.”

  “So are you, Captain MacLauren. There’s a wicked glimmer in your eyes.”

  “A gleam of desire from wanting ye so badly. Lass, yer body has me in a low brain frenzy.”

  She smiled. “I’m enjoying the sight of your body, too. Would you mind if I touched you?”

  “No, I dinna mind. I’m yers now. Do whatever ye please.”

  She tried to slip the shirt off him but needed his help. Once it was off, he stood motionless as she splayed her small hands across his chest and then ran them up and down his arms. “Your skin is warm.”

  “That’s a polite way of putting it. I’m mad, hot for ye. But I will no’ rush ye. We have all night.” He slid the gown off her so that it lightly whooshed as it fell to the floor.

  He admired the roundness of her backside as she bent to retrieve her gown and place it neatly over a chair.

  When she returned to his side, he made quick work of her undergarments, taking care to set them over the chair since she had no other clothes here yet and she’d be embarrassed to have to wear something crumpled.

  Also, she had yet to experience the heat of passion. Perhaps next time, they would be tearing off their clothes in frantic haste to couple.

  The breath caught in his throat as he removed the last of her garments, and she stood naked before him, her body exquisite as she was illuminated by the fire’s light.

  She looked magical.

  Ethereal.

  He lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed, settling her in the center of it before turning away a moment to remove his trousers. Her eyes widened when he turned to face her, for he was aroused, and there was no possibility of hiding it. “Did yer sisters explain any—”

  “Yes!” She nodded. “They warned me.”

  “Warned ye?” He gave a groaning laugh. “Dinna fret, lass. Ye’ll enjoy our coupling.”

  She blushed. “They told me this, too.”

  They spoke no more as he climbed in beside her and shifted her under him. Her body felt creamy and soft beneath him. He slowly began to kiss and touch her, lightly at first, touching his lips to hers and stroking his hand in a gentle caress along her waist and hips.

  When he felt her warming to him, he moved his hand upward to cup her breast and run his thumb in a teasing swirl around its tautening bud. At the same time, he began to kiss her along her neck and down to the swell of her breast, finally closing his mouth over it.

  She gasped when he gave it a soft lick and began to suckle her rosy bud between his lips.

  “Robbie,” she whispered urgently, drawing him closer and sweetly clinging to his shoulders.

  He loved the lavender scent of her skin. She was a flower, blossoming in the sun, emitting her attractive scent as she warmed to his touch.

  Then she was hot to his touch, and all became a dizzying blur as he stroked her and suckled her breasts, and readied her for the intimacy to come. He knew the moment she was ready by the slick heat between her thighs and her soft breaths that now came faster. “Open for me, my love.”

  He touched his fingers to the nub of her sweet essence to prepare her for their coupling. “Pixie, I love ye,” he whispered, entering her and claiming her faithfully and truly as his wife.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Heather’s heart was racing as Robbie settled his magnificently muscled body over her slight and slender one. He was now pressed against her, big and broad-shouldered, exuding power and strength. She ran her hands along his arms that were hard and sinewed like those of a trained warrior. His stomach was flat, and his legs were long and lean. “Trust me, lass?”

  “I do, Robbie.” Her body thrummed in anticipation of what would come next. He was aroused, she could tell by his quickening breaths and the heat of his skin against hers.

  She wasn’t certain how the size of him would fit inside her. But her sisters had told her it would, speaking with shocking frankness, and this now helped to calm her as the moment approached.

  He propped his elbows on either side of her so as not to crush her, but she found herself enjoying the weight of him atop her and felt somehow comforted by it. The touch of his roughened hands as he caressed her skin made her tingle everywhere.

  Then he began the timeless mating ritual, cautiously at first, so that he would not hurt her. She closed her eyes to absorb all these new sensations, the intimate strokes of his hand. The warmth of his mouth upon her skin. The heat of his tongue upon her breasts.

  “Ye taste so sweet, my pixie,” he whispered, somehow managing to retain control while she was slipping into sensations she’d never experienced before. She responded to him with a hot, pulsing need, her blood now fiery, and her body ready to take him in to fill her emptiness with the strength of him.

  She felt only the slightest discomfort when he first entered her, but once she was used to him, all she felt was heat and an exquisitely building pressure as he embedded himself inside of her and claimed her for his own.

  But she felt so much more with his every thrust, for their bodies spoke to each other. Their language was passion, and their dance was a timeless waltz of love.

  With each movement, each kiss, they were binding their hearts as well as their souls.

  She breathed in his musky scent, learned the curves and rippling bulges of his muscled torso, tasted the warmth of his lips so that all of him would be seared into her memory and her soul.

  He was doing the same, memorizing her touch and scent, and searing them into his soul so that she would forever be a part of him.

  She moved with him, her hips easily guided by his patient an
d gentle hands toward something powerful and eternal she had never experienced before.

  She sighed and softly moaned his name. “Robbie…”

  “Aye, my pixie,” he whispered and kissed her on the lips.

  She felt the slow simmer of heat and longing in her blood and felt it begin to course like fire through her veins. An unexpected pressure built inside of her as he thrust into her. Tense. Relentless. Volcanic. The feeling was so intense, she felt on the verge of erupting. “Robbie.”

  “Don’t hold back, my love.”

  She couldn’t even if she wanted to.

  He stroked her limbs and suckled her breasts, knowing the sensitive spots on her body better than she did, knowing just how to touch her and arouse her in fiery torment. She shuddered as his tongue licked across the tips of her breasts.

  Oh, that felt so good.

  “Mo chridhe, ye’re so lovely,” he whispered, taking her soft cries into his mouth in an incredibly delicious kiss as he continued to move inside of her, gracefully. Powerfully. Molten fire swept through her body, then all she saw was starlight, and her body felt weightless, evaporated in a pleasurable heat as he transported her to the stars.

  She clung tightly to his shoulders, loving the hard, sculpted beauty of them. “Oh, Robbie.”

  “I know, lass.” He growled softly and quickly followed with his release. He shuddered, spilling his liquid heat into her as he joined her on the starlit journey.

  She could only describe it as wondrous, for this is how it felt to her.

  His arms were gentle, and he cradled her in them while they spent themselves, drifting down from their heights together.

  She felt languid and satiated.

  He looked upon her with so much love, he stole her breath away. “What are you thinking, Robbie?”

  “Och, lass. I’m thinking ye’re the most beautiful vision I’ve ever beheld.” He began to feather gentle kisses on her face and along her body.

  Both their bodies were furnaces, giving off heat.

  Her skin was warm and damp. So was his.

  His eyes were emerald embers, smoldering and shimmering, his smile wickedly affectionate.

  She remained in his embrace, sighing as he lightly stroked her hip and caressed her everywhere. She rested her head against his chest, enjoying the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke again. “I knew ye had to be mine when I first met ye and learned yer name was Heather. It is a fine Scots name.”

  She laughed softly. “I’ve never been to Scotland. I don’t know why my parents named me that.”

  “They were guided by destiny. They took one look at yer pixie eyes and yer golden-brown hair and knew ye were meant to be a Highlander’s wife. Ye were probably born with the sweet scent of lavender on yer skin.”

  “I’m sure I did not open my eyes. I doubt I had any hair other than a few stray tufts that resembled dandelion fuzz. And I probably smelled of spittle,” she teased.

  “No, lass. Ye were the most beautiful babe ever born.”

  She kissed his chest. “If you say so.”

  She snuggled against him, breathing in the heat and clean maleness of him. “Was it all right, Robbie?”

  He chuckled. “Do ye mean the deed? Aye, lass. It was nice. More than nice. Pixie, ye fill my heart with gladness. How do ye feel? Did I hurt ye?”

  “Only for the one brief moment. But it quickly passed, and the rest of it was quite splendid. My body is still tingling.”

  “So’s mine.”

  She rose on one elbow to look at him, loving the naughty arch of his eyebrow and the grin on his handsome face. “Don’t tease me. I’m a rank beginner. But I think I shall improve over time.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Ye were perfect. Soft and warm and responsive. Ye need never worry about disappointing me because ye never will. Ye’ll always give me pleasure. We dinna make love with only our bodies, but with our hearts as well. Did ye feel it, my pixie?”

  “I did.” She nodded.

  Robbie was tired from the lack of sleep over the past two days, so she said nothing more and drifted to sleep in his arms. He dozed off before she did, but after a few hours, she awoke and stole a few moments to watch the play of moonlight upon his face.

  His was an exquisite face. Fine, firm jaw. Nicely shaped mouth. Eyes that stole one’s breath away with a mere glance. They were closed now and yet still felt vibrant.

  She touched his cheek lightly, curious as to the sensation of the bristled hairs growing back on his cheeks and jaw. He would shave in the morning, but for now, the stubble was hers to touch and stroke.

  His eyes flickered open.

  “Robbie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I dinna need much rest. How do ye feel?” He shifted so he faced her, his muscles rippling like the smooth ripple of water on the glass surface of a lake.

  “I feel happy.”

  He caressed her cheek. “And yer body?”

  She grinned. “Also happy.”

  He fell back against his pillow with a chuckle and drew her atop him. Her thigh grazed him, and she felt him throb to attention. “Dinna mind me, lass. I will no’ take ye like this again tonight. Ye’ll be too sore in the morning if I do.”

  She tried to hide her disappointment. “Oh, I suppose it’s for the best then.”

  “But there are other ways.” He shifted their positions so that she found herself under his big body.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Make love to ye with my heart.” He bent to kiss her own rapidly beating heart, then took the rose tip of her breast into his mouth and swirled his tongue over it. His fingers found their way lower to her most intimate spot.

  She responded to him quickly, her body once more molten and erupting in flames. When he shifted lower, replacing his fingers with his tongue, she meant to tell him that his lips seemed to be doing all the work, not his heart.

  Then she realized she was wrong.

  Everything Robbie did to her and for her, everything he thought and felt, his every protective urge and his every sacrifice, was a consequence of his caring for her and valuing her above his own life.

  When she erupted in splendor, and he took her back in his arms, she knew this was all that mattered, their caring and giving to each other.

  This is how their marriage would always remain strong.

  She rested her cheek against his chest and heard the rhythmic pounding of his heart, so strong and steady. “This is how it shall always beat for ye,” he whispered and then kissed her.

  She smiled.

  Yes, this was perfect.

  This was the heart of love.

  Epilogue

  Caithness, Scotland

  June 1821

  Robbie had worried Heather would grow despondent the further they rode north and away from London and her family. But he was pleased to see he had fretted needlessly. In truth, she seemed to be happy and excited to meet his family and made not a complaint the entire journey, which was not always an easy one. It had rained hard more than a time or two, and the roads were often rugged, causing their carriage to rock and jounce.

  He’d brought Gallant home with him, for the trusted steed never left his side. This slowed down their travel since they could not simply change horses at a coaching inn and ride on. Gallant needed to rest, as well as be groomed and fed. However, he was a sturdy beast, and they did not lose all that much time, or so Robbie liked to believe.

  But today, the sky was a deep, bright blue, and the sun was golden. Only a few white clouds sailed overhead, moved along by an unhurried and gentle breeze. Even the hawks seemed to be lazily gliding overhead, too busy enjoying the day to seriously hunt for prey.

  The gray stone fortress known as Dornoch Castle had come into view several miles back, large and imposing upon the hillock overlooking the firth flowing out to the North Sea.

  “Grandda!” Robbie said with delight as his granduncle gave a whoop and hurried down the steps of the castle to greet him. T
he older man gave no heed to decorum, grabbing him by the shoulders and hugging him as soon as he had emerged from the carriage.

  “Is it true, lad? Ye’re married?” He tried to look beyond Robbie to the woman still in the carriage, for he’d given him no time to help Heather climb down. “She must be truly special to have tamed ye. I never saw a lad more broken up when ye were home last winter. But we’re in full summer now, and if ye were a rose, ye’d be the brightest bloom in the garden. Look at ye, all puffed up and grinning with pride.”

  “Och, dinna call me a rose, ye pawky old man.” He could not help but smile as he helped Heather down and set her gently on her feet. “Grandda, this is my wife, Heather. She’s the lass I was broken up over. Ye can understand why, can ye no’?”

  His granduncle’s expression turned mawkishly tender. “Aye, laddie.”

  Robbie groaned. “Bollocks, are ye going to cry?”

  “It is an earl’s privilege, is it not? What’s wrong with shedding a tear or two? I’m so happy for ye both. She’s a beauty. And she has a bonnie name, too. But I thought ye said she was a Sassenach.”

  Heather grinned. “I am. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

  His granduncle stopped her before she could curtsey. “We’ll have none o’ that, lass. Ye’re a Caithness now, and I could not be more blessed. Robbie affectionately calls me his grandda, and I hope ye will call me that, too. Och, what a blessing! Malcolm has his beautiful Anne. Thad has his Penelope, the only lass he’s ever loved or ever will love. And now my Robbie has come home with a heart full of joy because of ye. I only hope Augustus has as good a fortune as my other lads have had. I love them all as though they were my own sons.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Robbie said, turning a moment to Heather. “Augustus is my cousin. Thad’s brother. He remained on the Continent in command of an elite unit of Scots Greys. He spent the last five years helping Lord Castlereagh secure the peace. But he’s on his way home now. He’s always been the most sensible of us all. I’m sure he’ll find a solemn, sensible Scottish girl and settle down with her upon his return.”