by Karen Ranney
He nibbled at her throat, then continued the biting kisses down to her breasts.
He moved to the side, propping himself up on one forearm, one hand dancing across her stomach, and then gently combing the hair at the apex of her thighs.
“Mercy,” he said, as his fingers played among her folds. Just her name, spoken with his beautiful voice, his Scottish accent amazingly seductive.
She widened her legs, curved the rest of her body toward him, needing that connection, wanting his touch.
Reaching down, she slid her fingers over his length, glorying in his muttered groan. Good. She hoped he felt like she did, out of control, her will buried beneath her body’s needs. She was overwhelmed with sensations: heat, the pounding of her heart, breathlessness, and above all this driving need to have him ease these feelings and complete her.
The first time they’d loved, she’d been awash in wonder and a little trepidation. Their joining had been pleasurable, but marked by a little discomfort. The second time was glorious and tonight would be no different.
She would be able to love Lennox every night of her life. She would grow to know his responses as well as learning her own. She already knew, for example, that stroking her nails along his back made him shiver. His buttocks were sensitive and he liked to be touched, almost as much as she did.
Lennox was capable of great restraint, however, much more so than she. She wanted him now. She wanted him five minutes ago. Yet he continued to tease her with his fingers and lips.
She pulled his head down for a kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip in mock punishment for his teasing.
“Now, Lennox,” she said, speaking against his lips.
“Soon.”
“Please. I want you inside me.”
She grabbed him and squeezed gently. She could tease him, too.
“Lennox. Please.”
Suddenly he was over her again. She spread her legs wide, invitation without a word spoken. Then he was inside her and she groaned in pleasure.
No wonder mothers cautioned their daughters a hundred ways to keep themselves inviolate. If the daughters truly knew what they were missing there wouldn’t be a virgin left in the world.
As for Mercy, she was exceedingly glad that she was no longer a virgin, that her wedding night wasn’t spent in worrying about what came next. She knew exactly what was going to happen and it was why she raised her hips, wrapped her feet around Lennox’s calves, grabbed his shoulders, and surrendered to his kiss.
Bliss was different, she discovered. Before it had been a pleasant explosion of feeling. Tonight it was as if the world rocked, the bed shuddered beneath her, and in those long moments of cataclysmic pleasure, she shattered and was put together again.
Colors danced behind her closed eyelids. She lost her breath and gained it. She was certain her heart stopped in that instant of completion then raced to catch up. Lennox made a sound in the back of his throat, stiffened, and held her tight to him.
She wanted to weep or scream with pleasure. Some sound to mark what they had created between them. All she ended up doing was holding tight to him, her cheek against his heated skin, hearing the booming sound of his heart and knowing that hers matched his beat for beat.
Her prayer was simple and heartfelt, a few words of thanks to a generous God who’d put them in the same place to find each other.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Toward dawn, Lennox woke, staring up at the ceiling.
The sun wouldn’t make an appearance for at least an hour if he’d awakened at his usual time. He turned his head, for the first time not being alone in the ancestral bed. Now he knew why it was so large. It had been designed for a man and his wife. He could even imagine their children joining them in a few years, clambering over the end of the mattress, their excited smiles revealing impish mischief or solemn wisdom.
He wasn’t given to second sight, but he knew that his life would be full and joyful and that he would repeat this moment of deep gratitude for the rest of his life.
Mercy was asleep, a palm tucked under her cheek. Even asleep she was beautiful, her long lashes sweeping down over a delicately colored complexion. His wife. His very surprising wife. His very stubborn wife. His wealthy wife.
He grinned.
Slowly, so as not to wake her, he got out of bed, went behind the screen, and took care of his morning ablutions. Grabbing his trousers, he donned them and then, barefoot, went up the stairs to the top of the tower.
Normally, when he viewed his kingdom it was with thoughts of responsibility. Things had changed since yesterday. Not just his wedding, but his realization that he had narrowed his life himself. No one had demanded it of him.
Suddenly, he wasn’t blessed with an albatross around his neck as much as a legacy to protect and defend. A legacy for his children and their children and hopefully a bloodline that stretched far into the future.
A noise made him turn and there she was. His wife. The Countess of Morton. The beautiful Countess of Morton.
She was dressed in his shirt, and that was all, the sight bringing his desire to life again.
“We have to find you some clothes,” he said, smiling. “But not right this moment.”
She threaded her fingers through her hair as she walked toward him. “And your brush,” she said. “I have absolutely nothing, and not for the first time. Isn’t that amazing?”
“Amazing?”
“That I don’t care,” she said. “Not one whit. I have everything I need,” she added. “You.”
He took her into his arms, smiling down at her. Such a comment required a kiss. A few minutes later he pulled back, knowing that he was going to take her back to their bed. They might stay there the whole day, driven out only by hunger.
For now, he turned with her to view his domain. Dawn was creeping over the horizon almost apologetically as if not wishing to disturb them.
Mercy stood in front of him, his arms wrapped around her. The morning breeze was filled with the scents of growing things. The far woods were dense, the woodland creatures beginning to stir. Life was waking to the day, a panorama that had often been presented to him, but one he had not appreciated as much as he did this morning.
She leaned back against him, her head resting on his chest.
He wanted to accomplish so much in his life; that hadn’t changed. He wanted to learn, to master flight, to expand his knowledge. With Mercy beside him as his partner, his companion, his love.
He dropped his arms, took her by the hand, and led her back to their bed.
Four hours later they were roused from slumber by the bell beside his bed. He’d rigged a wire, trailing it though some of the loose bricks leading down to the kitchen. Instead of having to come to his tower bedroom, Irene could simply tug on the rope he’d installed near the kitchen window.
Mercy sat up, and looked at him wide-eyed. “What is that?”
He rolled over, kissed her, and told her about the bell. “It’s hidden behind the bedside table,” he said.
“What does it mean?”
“That Irene needs me.” He sat on the edge of the bed and looked over at her. “She wouldn’t use the bell unless it was important.”
Mercy surprised him by getting out of bed and donning her clothes.
“There’s no need for you to get dressed,” he said, smiling at her.
“I’m starving,” she admitted. “Maybe some toast and tea?”
He made a mental note to obtain some coffee for Mercy since she preferred that to tea.
They descended the steps a few minutes later. He was attired in clean clothes while Mercy had to wear what she’d worn the night before and not for the first time. They needed to solve her clothing issue as soon as possible.
Irene greeted them in the corridor.
“Your father is here,” she said to Mercy. “And your aunt. I’ve put them both in the Clan Hall.”
With that, she left them.
“Would you like me to see to them?” he
asked.
Mercy sighed. “No. That would be the coward’s way out. Besides, I want to say goodbye to my aunt and see if my father and I can’t come to some type of arrangement.”
“I won’t let him browbeat you, Mercy.”
“Of course not,” she said, smiling. “I’m the Countess of Morton.”
They walked to the Clan Hall hand in hand. At the door he stopped, surveying his two guests for a moment before they knew they were being observed.
Elizabeth was standing in front of a display of battle flags, reading the inscriptions. Rutherford was examining the vaulted ceiling as if he expected it to fall down on top of him.
Mercy squeezed his hand, then released it, and strode into the room.
Elizabeth stepped forward to embrace her niece. Rutherford held back, a scowl indicating how he felt about this meeting.
To his surprise, the older man didn’t greet his daughter. Instead, he addressed Lennox.
“I hear you fly airships,” he said. “Why would you do such a fool thing?”
“Because I can,” Lennox answered. Rutherford had already struck him as the kind of man who wouldn’t be convinced of anything easily. However, he was under no compunction to try and make the man understand why flight fascinated him.
“You’re arrogant,” Rutherford said.
Lennox only inclined his head, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He had Mercy to think of. He didn’t want to hurt her by clashing with her father.
“I’ll buy your invention.”
“In the hopes that I’ll go away and leave your daughter alone? Too late. We were married by the laws of Scotland whether you accept it or not.”
“No, you damn fool. Not because I want you to go away and leave my daughter alone. It’s too late for that. Because she’s my daughter, that’s why.”
“In an effort to appear less arrogant, Rutherford, I have to tell you that while I appreciate the offer, my invention is not for sale. Nor am I.”
“I have heard you actually fly the thing.”
“So far, I’ve created little more than a glider. I’m experimenting with thrust, velocity, and lift.”
“I have people working on the same thing,” Rutherford said.
Perhaps the offer to buy his airship was genuine.
“I hear you’re an inventor as well. And a physician.”
“I don’t practice as such.”
“However, you’ve loaned your talents to people in the village when necessary.”
“Whoever has told you about me is well informed.”
“I have been plagued by people who want to tell me about you, Caitheart, from every member of the Macrory family to each of their servants. I have to admit that the servants have a better opinion of you than the family.”
Lennox smiled, genuinely amused.
“There’s been bad blood between the Macrorys and the Caithearts for generations.”
“Then I would be about mending fences if I was you, Caitheart.”
“Why is that, Rutherford?”
Despite himself, he was enjoying sparring with the older man and, if he didn’t mistake it, Rutherford was feeling the same way.
“Because I’ve made Macrory an offer on his house. It’s big enough that he and Mercy’s grandmother can live there as long as they wish, but I need a place for my wife and me to stay when we come to Scotland.”
That was a surprise.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” he said. “As my father-in-law, it would be expected.”
“This is a moldering dump,” Rutherford announced.
“It is not,” Mercy said, her voice indignant. “It’s a four-hundred-year-old castle, Father. With a history of a family, one that I married into. I would appreciate your demonstrating a little respect. All it needs is a new roof over the chapel and a few repairs here and there.”
“Which you’ll do, no doubt,” her father said.
Rutherford didn’t look all that angry. In fact, he appeared rather pleased with himself.
“I do have my grandfather’s money,” she said.
“And mine,” he added. “In due time, Mercy.”
“Your father wants to buy my airship,” Lennox told her.
“Does he?”
She glanced at her father and smiled. “I think that shows a remarkable amount of vision.”
“I’m not going to sell,” Lennox said.
She didn’t look surprised. “My husband is a genius, Father, but he’s also very stubborn.”
“I’ve already determined that.”
Rutherford studied Lennox. “You won’t get her to yourself, you know. Her mother and I will be here often enough. We’ll be back on the next ship.” He turned to Mercy. “I’ve a mind to bring Jimmy with us rather than leave him home.”
Mercy looked surprised but didn’t comment.
“She’s my daughter and we love her.”
“In your position I’d do exactly the same,” Lennox said.
“Good, just so we understand each other.”
Lennox only smiled.
Rutherford turned to Mercy. “I’ve brought your baggage. I’ll have the rest of your things sent to you. And your mother will, no doubt, be shopping for everything she thinks you’ll be lacking. Look for a ridiculous amount of trunks to arrive in the next few weeks.”
“Thank you, Father.”
He nodded.
When she went to him, he opened his arms, hugging her. His eyes closed and in that moment, Lennox realized that he might come to like Mercy’s father.
Rutherford pulled back, smiling. “You realize, of course, that you will deprive your mother of the event of the season. However, you have spared me having to attend such a spectacle. Still, I don’t think she’ll be pleased.” He looked at Lennox. “The only saving grace is your being an earl. That will mollify her somewhat. She can tell all her friends that her daughter is a countess.”
“What about Gregory? Tell me he’s going back with you.”
Rutherford had the strangest expression on his face. “Well, now, that’s another story. It seems that Hamilton has developed some feeling for your cousin.”
“She is, after all, an heiress,” Elizabeth said, exchanging a knowing glance with Mercy.
Mercy came to him and linked her arm with Lennox’s, evidently uncaring that her aunt and her father were witnesses.
“Right now I’d love for everyone to be as happy as I am,” she said. “Even Gregory.”
Lennox decided that he didn’t care if the world watched. He picked up his wife and twirled her in the light streaming in through the stained-glass windows.
Then, as she was laughing, he kissed her.
Epilogue
“It’s a blustery day, Lennox,” Connor said.
“That it is.”
“A perfect day to fly,” Mercy added.
Lennox frowned at her and gently urged her away from the edge of Ben Uaine. He hadn’t been in favor of her coming to see him off. He would much rather have her waiting in the glen. Or on the road. Or even on the tower. She would have had a much better vantage point from there.
“I’d like to fly with you,” she said.
“What?”
“You’ve made the cabin large enough for two people. Why shouldn’t one of them be me?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
She raised one eyebrow and stared at him. “Is it any less dangerous for you?”
They’d been married only a month. A month that had totally changed Lennox’s life. He had taken Mercy to Edinburgh and shown her his favorite sights. It had been illuminating to see the city as she did.
She’d already consulted with experts to repair the roof over the chapel. She’d hired four men to expand the kitchen garden, asking Irene about the types and number of plants she needed and wanted. She’d hired two girls from Macrory House, Lily and another girl that Ruthie had recommended to help Irene with the upkeep of the castle.
All this in a month. He couldn’t
imagine what she’d accomplish in a year.
She had taken over Robert’s library, pouring through books on Duddingston to ensure that she knew everything there was to know about her new home. He’d never considered that she would come to love the castle as much—or even more—than Robert had.
Douglas hadn’t yet agreed to sell Macrory House to Rutherford, but according to Mrs. West he was giving it serious thought, especially if he and his sister could continue to live there for the rest of their lives. Elizabeth had returned to North Carolina and was planning to marry her long-lost love while Flora had agreed to become Mrs. Gregory Hamilton, living in New York and, no doubt, becoming a fixture in society.
It was like the families changed places. That was fine, as long as he and Mercy continued to live at Duddingston. He would welcome the Rutherfords because they were Mercy’s family, but he would be happy with only his wife as company. Part of that was his hermit-like nature reasserting itself. The rest of it was the fact that he was deeply in love.
He had never realized that the emotion could so effortlessly change his life. Nor had it ever occurred to him how miserable he’d been in the past five years. Mercy taught him that and it looked like she was in the midst of teaching him another lesson. He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew it or if it was accidental.
He wasn’t going to risk her life. Flying off Ben Uaine wasn’t suicidal, exactly, but it was dangerous. In the past, he’d had the challenge of flight to goad him to such behavior. Now he had so many other things to restrain him and that knowledge was startling.
He didn’t want to injure himself. He didn’t want to die. He had too much to live for.
“I really do want to fly with you, Lennox.”
The idea was so preposterous that he wouldn’t even entertain it.
“No,” he said with so much force that she looked surprised.
Connor backed up. He was probably going to disappear in the next moment. Connor had become less conciliatory since he and Ruthie had married two weeks earlier. Now it was as if he knew better than to get between a husband and wife.
“Why not?”
“Because I love you,” he said. “I won’t take a chance with your life.”