His Heart's Home

by Sterling, Stephanie

  “Are we ready to go now?” Duncan asked, once Ciaran had finished explaining her instructions to Molly. His soon-to-be wife nodded her head and smiled up him shyly. “Good!” he said with real feeling, taking her arm and leading her out of the house as he called goodbye to the children.

  The boys ran outside after Duncan and their mother, waving goodbye and wishing them good luck.

  “Maybe we should have found a way to let them come…” Ciaran mused, after Duncan had helped her up into the wagon and got the horses moving. She was a little surprised by his response.

  “No,” he said simply, and then elaborated when he saw Ciaran starting at him in surprise. “I’d like you all to myself for just a few hours,” he murmured, gazing at her adoringly. “I like being alone with you,” he said softly.

  “I know you do!” Ciaran giggled.

  Duncan chuckled. “Aye, well I like that too,” he grinned. He dotted a kiss against her cheek, and drew her against his side. “But I like just having you all to myself sometimes too,” he confessed.

  Ciaran turned a very pretty shade of pink and wrapped her arms around Duncan’s waist, cuddling close as he drove them the rest of the way to the trading post. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was real, but she didn’t want to run the risk of waking up.

  “You wait here for a minute while I go and find the priest,” Duncan said to Ciaran once they had reached the trading post and he had stopped the wagon outside the general store.

  “All right,” she nodded, allowing Duncan to steal a quick kiss before he went to seek out the missionary.

  Ciaran waited impatiently for his return. There were excited butterflies flying around in hestomach. She wished Duncan would hurry. She wanted to be his wife now. She was still half afraid he might realize what a crazy mistake he was making and change his mind.

  She really needn’t have worried. Ten minutes after leaving, Duncan returned. He was wearing a broad grin and carrying a little posy of flowers.

  “For you,” he said, presenting Ciaran with the little bouquet, and then helping her down from the wagon.

  “Oh Duncan!” she exclaimed, smelling the fragrant blossoms in raptures. “Thank you! You’re so good to me!”

  “They’re only flowers,” he shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I found the missionary,” he said, his eagerness patent. “He’s over at the Murphy’s place. He’ll marry us in their parlor, if that’s all right with you?”

  The Murphy’s were an Irish family who ran the one and only guesthouse in the vicinity. They had arrived two summers before Duncan and Ciaran’s party and were some of the most established settlers in the area.

  “Of course it’s all right with me,” Ciaran cried happily, allowing herself to be swept along by Duncan who seemed just as impatient as she was to get the ceremony started, but he surprised her by stopping just outside the Murphy’s front door.

  “I’m going to make you happy, Ciaran,” he swore suddenly. There was something fierce and bright burning in his eyes. “You’ll never regret marrying me!” Before Ciaran could assure Duncan that it would be impossible for her to regret any such thing, he sealed his words with a hard kiss that left her reeling.

  Duncan pulled back. He couldn’t stop smiling as he gazed down into Ciaran’s flushed face. He already considered her to be his, she was his in all the ways that matter to him, but very, very soon she would belong to him in the eyes of the world too, and he knew that was important to Ciaran.

  “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go and get married.”

  “Oh yes please!” Ciaran beamed. She squeezed Duncan’s hand and let him lead her into the Murphy’s house.

  Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, one of their young daughters, and the missionary were all waiting for them in the parlor. Ciaran’s smile faltered just a little. She wondered what they all thought of her, but she couldn’t muster much will to care. She was just minutes away from becoming Mrs. Duncan MacRae. Nothing could dampen her spirits now.

  The missionary stepped forward. He was smiling, although Ciaran had noticed him glance disapprovingly at her stomach and lift one eyebrow. She was glad she wasn’t showing too badly at least. Perhaps he might just think she was a little fat… maybe?

  Duncan paid much more attention to Ciaran than he did to the missionary priest as they went through the motions of the ceremony. He didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful woman. He felt a brief sharp pang when he thought about Aileen and his first marriage, but he liked to imagine that his late wife was with Thomas up in heaven now, looking down, and hopefully wishing him well.

  Ciaran’s voice was soft, but clear and firm as she spoke her vows, and her hand was steady and still when Duncan slipped his ring onto her finger. She was practically glowing and Duncan loved the bright, excited look in his eyes.

  He could tell she wanted this. She wanted to be his. When the priest pronounced them man and wife, and invited Duncan to kiss his bride, Ciaran was already a step ahead of them. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his mouth. Duncan lifted her clean off the floor and twirled her around, heedless of their audience. Ciaran’s eyes were still sparkling when he put her down.

  Duncan kissed her forehead tenderly. “Mrs. MacRae,” he whispered so only she could hear. “My Mrs. MacRae.”

  Ciaran barely heard the congratulations of the minister or Mr. and Mrs. Murphy. The only person of whom she was currently aware was Duncan. For the moment, it felt to her as though he filled her whole world.

  Duncan nudged her out of the parlor and outside into the fresh air again. He was thanking the Murphy’s and the missionary as they walked. Ciaran was sure he slipped them something for the use of their room.

  It was strange, but as elated as she knew she was feeling, Ciaran felt oddly shy once she and Duncan were finally alone together. She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and walked silently back to the wagon.

  “I’m sorry it wasn’t fancier for you…” Duncan mused, frowning mildly as he helped Ciaran up into the wagon.

  “Oh don’t!” she cried, as far as she was concerned it had been perfect. She was Duncan’s wife now and that was all she cared about. She had liked the private simplicity of the ceremony. “Don’t apologize for anything! It was wonderful!”

  Duncan grinned as he hoisted himself up into the seat next to Ciaran. “Well I’m glad you thought so,” he murmured, and reached for her and kissed her. “So long as you’re happy-that’s all I care about.”

  She gazed down at the ring on her finger as Duncan got the horses moving. It was a simple gold band, elegant, but solid looking. As beautiful and wonderful as it was Ciaran couldn’t help wondering where Duncan had got it. It wasn’t exactly as though he could pop out to the local jewelry or goldsmith. She wondered if it had belonged to the first Mrs. MacRae.

  She twisted it around her finger nervously. Duncan read the question in her eyes.

  “That was my mother’s,” he said simply. A faraway smile tugged at his lips.

  “Your mother’s?” Ciaran gasped. She glanced at the ring with fresh appreciation.

  “Aye…” Duncan said quietly. “My parents were devoted to each other. After my mother died, my father kept it with him until he passed away too, but he left it to me in his will.” He paused and then added, “I was always very close to my ma.”

  Ciaran nodded silently, deeply touched he had given something that was obviously so precious to him to her now. “I’ll look after it,” she told him faithfully. “I promise.”

  Duncan chuckled. “Aye, I know you will, lass.”

  “How are you feeling? You’re not too tired?” Duncan asked suddenly, glancing at Ciaran’s bump. It was barely noticeable, but he knew it was there - their child. He was still having trouble believing it.

  “Too tired for what?” Ciaran giggled, pressing close against his side. Her eyes sparkled playfully as they gazed up at his face.

  “Why Mrs. MacRae whatever are you implying?” Duncan gro
wled, and then proceeded to nibble her ear.

  “Concentrate on driving the wagon!” Ciaran laughed, swatting him lightly. Duncan pretended to sulk, which earned him a soft kiss on the cheek. “Tonight will be our wedding night…” Ciaran puffed. There was a note of uncertainty in her voice Duncan couldn’t help but find amusing.

  “You’re not too nervous, are you?” he chuckled, unable to resist teasing her a little.

  “You beast!” Ciaran pouted.

  Duncan hoped she wasn’t really annoyed, but then how could she possibly be annoyed today of all days? He didn’t feel as if anything would ever have the power to trouble him again. He only hoped Ciaran felt the same way.

  “I’ll be very gentle,” he whispered, which brought a rosy glow of color into Ciaran’s cheeks.

  “Y-You will?” she stammered, looking curious.

  Duncan nodded. He would have to admit he had never exactly been known for his gentleness with women, but somehow he sensed that was what tonight called for. He would be slow, he would be tender. He would worship Ciaran from her head to her toes, paying particular attention to all the bits in between.

  They were almost back to the house, but before they got back, and were overrun with excited children, Duncan wanted a few more stolen minutes alone with his wife. He eased the wagon to a stop and turned to Ciaran.

  “What’s wrong?” she frowned. Her brow furrowed and she started to worry her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “You have to stop doing that,” Duncan murmured gently. He reached for her and tugged her into his arms.

  “Doing what?”

  “Expecting the worst all the time,” Duncan scolded her mildly, but the reprimand was instantly chased clean out of Ciaran’s head when her husband bent towards her and claimed her lips with his mouth.

  They were both breathing hard by the time Duncan drew back, leaning his forehead against Ciaran’s and staring deep into her eyes.

  “You’re mine,” he murmured, and felt the shiver that traveled down the length of Ciaran’s spine.

  “I already was,” she whispered breathlessly.

  “Let’s go home and tell the kids the good news,” Duncan grinned, flicking the reins, and getting the wagon moving again.

  He looked so happy, almost boyish. Ciaran tucked her arms into his and smiled contentedly as they completed the last stretch of their journey from the trading post to their house.

  Ciaran had thought maybe the boys would be waiting to offer their congratulations, but everything was suspiciously quiet when they arrived back.

  “Where do you think everyone is?” Ciaran frowned, letting Duncan lift her down from the front seat of the wagon. He shrugged his broad shoulders, leaving the horses for a minute so he could follow his wife into the house. “Hello?” Ciaran called uncertainly, as she walked inside.

  “Oh! Mrs. MacRae! Mr. MacRae!” Molly Cameron bobbed in a surprised curtsy. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

  Ciaran was so astonished at being addressed as “Mrs. MacRae” that it took Duncan’s “where are the children, Molly?” to alert her to the fact the house seemed to be completely empty of boys and baby.

  “They’re with my ma, sir,” Molly said quietly, flushing shyly. “She thought you might like it if she kept them overnight? I was just fixing up some supper for the two of you.”

  “Oh Duncan, do you think they’ll be all right?” Ciaran asked nervously. She had never spent a night away from her babies. Never! She hardly even knew Mrs. Cameron, and what she did know wasn’t exactly wonderful, but Duncan didn’t appear to share her reservations. He was grinning like the cat that had got the cream.

  “Thank your ma for us, will you, Molly?”

  “But Duncan-” Ciaran started to speak, but she was silenced by the hot, lusty look in her husband’s eyes. She realized they had never had the luxury of a whole night alone together before.

  “I’ll just go and put the horses in the stable,” he said, still staring at her hungrily.

  Ciaran nodded, suddenly feeling shaky and weak at the knees. The thought of being alone with Duncan for so long was really rather thrilling. She wondered what he would do to her. She wondered how he would make it different? She wondered about it for so long she was staring into empty space. Duncan had gone to tend to the horses.

  “Here, let me help,” Ciaran said, clearing her throat and gathering herself together. She walked over to where Molly was fixing a simple supper, but the young girl shook her head.

  “Oh no, Mrs. MacRae, it’s my job, you go and sit yourself down. I’ll be out of your way soon, but if you leave the dishes until the morning I’ll do those when I start work tomorrow,” she nodded with a smile.

  Sit down? Leave the dishes? Ciaran had never heard such things in her life. Surely she couldn’t? Not her? But it did seem that maybe Mrs. MacRae could.

  It was all a little bit too lazy for Ciaran to get her head around, and so she laid the table for two while Molly dished up the meal. She thanked the girl, who smiled politely and called her ‘Mrs. MacRae’ again, and told her she could head off now.

  Duncan was just coming in as Molly was going out. He thanked her too, and asked her to pass his thanks on to her mother as well.

  “Oh, and tell the children ‘goodnight’ from me?” Ciaran called, biting her lip. She hoped they would be okay without her.

  “I will, Mrs. MacRae, don’t worry,” Molly promised, and then she was off, and Ciaran and Duncan were left all alone.

  “Well,” said Ciaran shyly. “I suppose we should eat?”

  “I suppose so,” Duncan chuckled.

  Molly had put all the food on the table, so there was nothing left for Ciaran and Duncan to do other than sit down and say grace. They tucked in silently, neither of them speaking for a few minutes.

  “It was good of Molly to prepare supper for us,” Ciaran said quietly, although she was paying more attention to her husband than she was the food.

  She rarely got the chance to sit and study him slowly like this, there was always cleaning, cooking, washing, mending, something to do instead. She took it for granted sometimes, but he was such a remarkably handsome man.

  “It’s what she’s paid to do,” Duncan chuckled. “And besides, you’re a far better cook anyway,” he added, winking.

  Ciaran blushed. She wasn’t feeling very hungry to be honest, but Duncan didn’t seem to want to hurry to the next part of their wedding day. She watched him clear his plate, and listened to him talk of the plans he had for their land. She moved to clear the dishes away once Duncan had finished, but he caught hold of her wrist and shook his head.

  “I don’t want you to have to do any work today,” he told her with a grin.

  “You want me to have double tomorrow?” Ciaran giggled. She had stood up, and Duncan was still sitting down. He pulled her to him, so she was standing between his knees. He reached out and touched her stomach with his hand.

  “You have Molly to help you now,” he murmured, gently stroking the swollen skin where his child lay. “I want you to take it easy,” he said softly, leaning forward and kissing Ciaran’s belly through the folds of her dress. “In fact,” he continued, eyes flashing rather wickedly as he glanced up and looked at Ciaran’s face. “You should probably go and lie down now.”

  “Duncan-” Ciaran puffed. She felt lightheaded, and he had hardly even touched her yet. But his gentle concern for her, even when it was traced with his own desires, was still so novel it was intoxicating.

  He stood up, towering over her little body and drawing her into his arms. “You’re my wife,” he whispered, sounding faintly awed. Ciaran nodded her head dreamily and sank against his chest. “I want to make love to you,” he purred, whispering the words so they dripped into her ear like honey.

  “Please?” Ciaran whispered, tilting her head up towards his face.

  Duncan stroked her cheek with the back of one hand and placed the other on the small of her back. She wanted him - she did - he could see it i
n her eyes. There was no more powerful aphrodisiac in the world.

  “Please make love to you?” he smiled, dotting his lips against her forehead. He planted a line of little kisses down her nose. “Is that what you want?” he whispered, moving his fingers over her back in teasing little circles.

  Ciaran eased herself even closer. “You know it is!” she mewed, clutching at his shoulders. She stood on tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his lips, instigating a sweet, searing kiss. “Take me to bed, Duncan,” she puffed, sliding her hands up and down his back.

  “I love it when you tell me what to do,” he chuckled huskily, sweeping her off the floor and into his arms.

  Ciaran gave a little shriek of delight and clung to her husband. Duncan carried her effortlessly into their bedroom and lay her down on the bed. She fell back on the mattress and beckoned him to join her with her eyes. She looked so soft and inviting. It was going to take every ounce of self-control that Duncan possessed not to just ravish her on the spot.

  “Come here?” she pouted, reaching out to him with her hands when she felt he had been apart from her for too long. “I want you to touch me,” she confessed, blushing.

  Duncan grinned. He planted his hands on her waist, dragging one up to her breast and the other down to her hip. He gently cupped and fondled her breast, tweaking her nipple through the fabric of her dress, while the hand he had rested on her hip pinned Ciaran to the bed.

  “I want you to touch me too,” he whispered, leaning and nibbling at her neck.

  Ciaran’s fingers were less patient than Duncan’s, and in a matter of seconds she had tugged his shirt off over his head, and proceeded to rake her nails over the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen. Duncan growled and captured her mouth, kissing her into submission, kissing her until he felt the bite of her nails on his back.

  “Are you trying to rush me?” he whispered in chastisement, and slowly, so slowly, eased open the front of her dress. He lowered his head and drew her into his mouth, sucking her through her thin shift.

  “Duncan!” she cried, arching beneath him. He coaxed her into a sitting position, so he could strip the dress away to her waist, but his mouth never once stopped working its magic. “Duncan!” Ciaran whimpered his name again. One of her hands shamelessly reached for him. She touched him through his trousers and found him just as she wanted him.