Highlander Warrior
Page 19
“Eighteen sixties or seventeen sixties?”
“Nineteen! You great idiot — oh, you’re teasing me,” she realized, exasperated. He grinned an upside-down grin at her, sticking out his tongue cheekily, and she grinned back.
“How’s the seating plan coming?”
“Good, I think. I know you think I’m ridiculous for doing this now, but if we’re to be married in a month I don’t want to be planning the entire thing on the day of.”
“Get Margaret to do it.”
“Margaret has done more than enough favors for me for one lifetime,” Cora said pointedly. “She deserves some time off. I’m taking her on a holiday to Skye,” she added.
“Oh, you’ll run off to Skye with Margaret but you won’t come with me?” Ian joked in mock outrage, sliding off the bed and crossing to stand behind her. He peered over her shoulder at the seating plan, nodding studiously. “Ah, yes. Perfect. Yes, it’s a masterpiece.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, casually hugging her — and then his hands crept higher and higher…and higher…until they were cupping her bosoms through the loose night shirt she was wearing. “Mm, yes. Truly, a work of art. Two works of art, in fact —”
“You rogue,” Cora giggled, turning her head to kiss him. “Unhand me, I have important work to do.”
“So do I,” he murmured, kissing a line down her throat, down her shoulder, along the side of her waist and down to her hip. He pulled her knees apart and she sighed, dropping her head back onto the backrest of the chair as his lips moved closer and closer to the heat at the join of her legs. It was incredible, how quickly he could arouse her. He pressed one long, hot kiss against her folds, dipping his tongue into her to tease at her clitoris — and just as she was uttering a long, low moan, he pulled back and leapt to his feet, sauntering casually back over to the bed.
“Hey. Hey, unfair.”
“I’d better turn in,” he said, yawning theatrically and stretching in a way that he knew revealed all the extremely sexy muscles in his back. “See you in the morning.”
Cora growled, seating plan forgotten, and pursued him, seizing him by the shoulder and spinning him around to kiss him hard and bruising. God, it felt good to be here, with him, nothing to worry about, no Inquisition beating down their door. She had been so convinced that they’d had their last night together that this just felt like an indulgence, like a gift she’d been given by the universe, by God himself. Well, she was going to make the most of it. They quickly undressed each other as they kissed, him chuckling as she unfastened his kilt with a practiced ease. He was still teasing her about that first day, so many weeks ago.
She pushed him flat on his back onto the bed and straddled his waist, her hands flattening on his chest as she positioned her hips just so to slide him inside her. He threw back his head against the pillow and groaned, the line of his throat exposed and exquisitely beautiful in the candlelight she’d been working by. Ducking her head, she kissed the length of his throat, not caring if her overzealous ministrations left bruises. Let the world know that he was hers, that she loved him, that she showed that love with her body as well as her heart and soul. They moved together, his hands on her waist, her hands caressing the broad, beautiful muscles of his chest.
After they’d climaxed — within a few seconds of each other, as it always was, and God, did she love being that in sync with him — she lay against his chest in the darkness, the candles having long since burned down during their lovemaking. His breath was a soothing rhythm and his heart drummed gently beneath her cheek, and she felt such love for him in that moment she felt her heart would burst.
Here she was. Castle MacClaran, in fifteenth century Scotland. This was never exactly in the plan, was it, Cora, she asked herself, smiling a little into the darkness. But the important things were there. She had her work — still bringing babies into the world, still making the miracle of birth a little less intimidating for mothers and fathers alike. She had her dear friend Audrina, at her side — forever. She had her faith, which had never steered her wrong — a beautiful chapel to worship in and the strong and certain knowledge that she was where God wanted her to be. And as an added bonus, something she’d never expected, she’d found a lover and a partner who would care for her, and whom she would care for in turn.
There was a pang of grief in her heart still, though, and she was surprised to find it was for Bellina Corso. A young woman whose only crime was a passion for helping people, who had the best years of her life ripped away from her — but in being absolved for the same crimes, Cora knew somehow that she’d helped her ancestor find peace. Besides, she could still feel that part of her soul that belonged to her ancestor — and it thrummed with the same joy as the rest of her did at the thought of her future. Maybe in a way, Bellina was still with her — she could lead the life that had been taken from her, her soul intertwined with Cora’s for the rest of their days together. Perhaps someone else would have felt uncomfortable at the idea of someone else living inside them, but Cora found it rather a comfort. Like having a friend, or a sister, who was always with you, offering guidance. Like a guardian angel to watch over her.
With these thoughts on her mind and a smile on her lips, Cora Wilcox — soon to be MacClaran — fell into a deep and healing sleep. And though every night at the castle so far had been plagued by nightmares — of stone walls, of hard faces, of a darkness too deep to be borne — this night, this first night of freedom was absolutely dreamless.
About Rebecca Preston
Rebecca lives in New York City with her dog. She loves sweet love stories with great characters. She loves traveling the world and experiencing new cities and cultures. Jane Austen is her favorite author.
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