Genevieve turned and looked at him. He saw wonderment in her eyes and cleared his throat, sensing that she knew what he wanted to say. He saw joy in her eyes and felt his heart soar. She wanted to hear what he had to say! His soul soared.
“Genevieve, I...since I have met you – nay, before that – when I first set eyes on you, I knew what a remarkable, rare person you are. Since the – since getting to know you – I have learned how unusual, how remarkable. I...I had many reasons, before now, why I would not have been able to say those things. But now I can voice the words that are in my heart. I love you. I think I always have, but only know it now for what it is. I love you, Genevieve. I cannot imagine life without you in it. I love you, and I would ask you if you would consider...sharing my life.”
She stared. The look of disbelief was touched with sparkle, and he felt his heart soar. He looked away.
“Adair,” she said, and he was amazed to see tears fill her eyes. “Adair, I...I would love to. I love you. I love you. I always loved you.”
Adair stared at her in amazement. Suddenly, as she reached for him, he reached for her and it was so natural to step into an embrace. He held her against his chest and felt her heart beating beside his. He held her close and she laid her head on his shoulder and wept.
Later, as the wonder sank in and he found himself almost unable to believe what had happened, he looked down at her as she raised her head. Their eyes met.
“Oh, Adair,” she said, smiling. “I do love you.”
“I love you too.”
His lips moved over hers and they kissed. He felt the sweet familiarity of her lips move under his tongue and knew that his life would be so happy from now on, happiness filling it in ways he would never have dreamed possible.
Because love has a way, like water, of finding its way through the hidden cracks and chinks in the armor where we cage ourselves, flooding our hearts with light.
He knew he had never before been so happy, or so free.
WEDDING IN THE MANOR-HOUSE
They were married in the chapel attached to the manor, a week later. Adair walked down the steps from the church in a sense of complete wonderment, the most beautiful woman he had ever imagined at his side.
“Congratulations!” Richard beamed, and Arabella beside him said the same, embracing him and her cousin tenderly.
“You are a fine pair,” Arabella said, tears in her eyes. “A fine pair.”
“Thank you.”
Francine, pale and quiet, stood behind her sister. Adair caught her eye on him and flushed, swallowing. He wondered how he had ever doubted her words – how he had ever been entrapped in such darkness that he'd wished to doubt them.
They all walked back to the manor, where Arabella had set out a banquet in their honor. He turned to Francine, who walked on his right part of the way.
“You know, now, that there is light ahead,” Francine said, smiling at him enigmatically. “I think you know now that there always is – it is us who choose to turn away from it, to crush it when it lights our path.”
“I know,” Adair swallowed. “I will never do so again.”
“Good.”
He felt as if lightness had settled on his chest and he turned to his left, looking at Genevieve, where she walked in silent radiance by his side.
She took his hand in hers and his heart softened, and together they walked into the hall.
It was evening when they sat down to the meal – the winter darkness still arriving fleetly – but he felt nothing beside wild joy in his heart as he settled down in the hall, lit to glowing by the candlelight.
“I don't think that you will be leaving before yuletide?” Richard jerked his head at the window, where the first snows had already started to fall.
“We will try to go before the snows worsen,” Adair said, not sure yet what they would do, since they had only patchily discussed it, time spent in a haze of wonder and talk about the future they would make together.
“Well, that's sound,” Richard agreed, nodding.
Opposite them at the table, Ascott smiled at him in friendly care.
Adair looked down at his plate, feeling a wonderful mix of joy and anticipation fill his heart and stomach. Beside him, the candlelight shone softly on Genevieve's skin and he felt his heart soar with wonder, watching her.
Her dress had a low, square neckline, which showed her swan-pale skin, a small pearl gracing her throat. Her lovely face turned to him, lips moist with cordial, and he felt a wash of longing flow through him. Soon they would be going upstairs to their chamber, for their wedding night.
* * *
The reception ended at dusk. The last guests left, cleared out discreetly by Arabella, who knew how it was to be newly-wedded and wish to have time alone.
At last the hall was cleared, leaving them alone in a dusk shone through with the golden light of candles.
“My dear, I...”
“I suppose...”
Genevieve smiled softly as she looked up at him. “You speak first.”
“Should we retire?”
She swallowed hard, delicious anticipation filling her. She blushed, looking away. “Yes. Let's.”
She heard his breath draw in sharply and wondered, suddenly, if he was feeling as she was.
He must know more of this than I do.
She felt her body flush with a mix of delicious nervousness and excitement – all this was foreign to her.
I know enough of him to know that I will like it.
She felt her cheeks color with the sensational thought. She loved his kisses and the feeling of his body on hers. She knew that these things and the longing her body ached with when she looked at him would ensure that whatever was to happen would be wonderful.
She felt him pause beside her and, hand in hand, they went up the stairs. At the door of the bridal bedroom, they paused. Genevieve swallowed hard.
“I think I am supposed to go in first?”
Genevieve nodded, heart thumping hard. “You're supposed to lead me across.”
He nodded and went in first, then reached his hand out to her, guiding her across the threshold.
Genevieve's body flushed with raw fire as he took her hand and enfolded it in his own. His eyes held hers and she felt a wash of heat flood her as he moved his fingers, gently stroking her hand where, lately, he had placed a gold band. Then, slowly, he turned to her, his lips pressed to hers.
She felt her lips part under his.
I have never felt like this.
Her body ignited and she wrapped her arms around him, even as he was drawing her toward him, his body pressed to hers so close that she could feel his heart beating hard. She felt a sweet urgency to hold him and she draw him close, wrapping her arms around him.
She pressed her body tightly to his, her own aching for him almost overwhelming her, even as this tremulous nervousness made her wonder what it was that would happen. Her body already knew.
He stroked her hair and moved back, gasping, and then letting his lips touch hers again. His hands stroked her neck, the touch so intimate it set her whole body aflame. Then his fingers fumbled with the button at the top of her neck.
She felt her breath stop. He was unfastening it, and then the next one. Her heart almost stopped beating, her body focused on the new, amazing sensation of his hands, gently stroking their way down her slowly-exposed skin.
He led her to the bed and gently but insistently pushed her down to it, his lips plying her own. She leaned close to him, loving the sensation of his heartbeat next to hers. His hands were still working on her dress, and she twisted, letting his hands stroke down to her waist. He gripped it in his hands, his palms cradling it gently.
She gasped as he pushed her over more, so that she lay on the bed beside him, feeling his leg press against her own, his hand reaching up for her breast even as he slid the dress down her body. He was unlacing her stays and reaching into her petticoat, his other hand stroking her stomach.
She felt as if she was
catching on fire, his hands stroking her so tenderly that her body was melting into his. He sighed and kissed her hair and she twisted, wanting to kiss his lips.
He let her roll onto her side and gently pushed back so that she was lying below him on the bed, staring up at him with her body smoldering aflame.
He finished undressing her and sat back and looked at her, his face awash with longing. She felt proud and lay there, loving the way his eyes lingered on her naked body.
“I should really...” he murmured, reaching for his cravat as she smiled.
“You are dressed,” she pointed out, teasing. “I think this unfair.”
He laughed, seeming impressed by her boldness. She giggled. “I agree, dearest.”
“I think so.”
He undressed quickly, and she watched him do so, amazed by the fact that she thought his body beautiful. His chest was tight with muscle, shoulders firm, his skin pale in the flame-light, and she thought he was the most beautiful man ever born.
He lay down beside her, his eyes on hers. She noticed he seemed nervous. She felt maternal, suddenly, and reached for him, smiling. “My dearest,” she murmured, kissing him.
“Oh, sweetness...”
He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned close, her legs pressed to his naked legs, and suddenly there was a knowing inside her that seemed to sense what must happen next, so that she pressed herself instinctively to him even as their bodies began to move and he rolled onto his side, gently pushing her over onto her back beneath him.
She looked up into his eyes and saw tightness on his face, a tension that quivered with need like that she felt racing in her blood vessels.
She felt his knee move between hers and her body melted under his as he pressed her knees gently apart, hips moving over hers in a sweet way that made her sigh. Then she gasped as he did something new, her body melting into an indescribable bliss as he entered her.
“Oh...Adair...” she murmured, wrapping her arms around him, drawing him close to her.
“Oh, Genevieve,” he whispered, face contorted in sweetness. “My dearest love.”
His body moved with hers and it seemed like her body knew what was happening, knew precisely how to move, and the intensity of wonder that rose in her seemed almost familiar as their bodies met and parted and their breath gasped together, rising and rising and rising and then suddenly...
Her body melted and disappeared, melting into his, fired with a bliss she’d never thought was possible to feel.
They lay like that for hours while the sweat cooled on their skin and their hearts returned from the place of pleasure to knowledge of the present. Her body lay beside his, her skin damp with perspiration, no clear distinction between the borders of his body and her own. She had never felt so rested, nor so whole.
They kissed and made love again, whispering love words until the new day was gray outside the windows.
Her joy, as she lay there in his arms, a sweet bruised pain in her stomach, body deliciously weary, was as precious as anything she had ever known.
EPILOGUE
“Genevieve?”
“Yes?” Genevieve replied dreamily, looking up from where she sat on the settee in the small parlor upstairs. The snow was thick outside the window.
“I think we're ready.”
“I did say so,” Genevieve said, smiling. “We should go today. If the weather permits it.”
“Yes.”
Genevieve smiled as she looked up into that fine-boned, handsome face. Somehow, he seemed nervous, with a tension she had come to be able to sense in the time of knowing him – the way the skin tightened around his eyes, the taut muscle at his temple.
She herself felt deeply peaceful, with a sweet contentment she'd barely imagined. She smiled. “We will leave with the spring tide.”
“Yes.”
She sat up straighter from where she reclined on the chaise, her embroidery on her knee. She had been feeling a delicious drowsiness that Arabella suggested was natural to feel. She reached for his hand as he sat opposite her. “Dearest, we'll have so many lovely things to see. We'll go directly to Chateau Malpons, and from there to my uncle's lands near Paris.”
“I know, dearest,” he said. He swallowed. “I just...dearest, are you sure that your father will approve? I mean, I still barely speak...and...”
“My father can speak English,” Genevieve giggled. “And yes. He will love you as I do. And your French is coming along quite famously.”
He made a wry face. “You are generous, dearest.”
“I speak truth,” she countered, smiling. She reached up and stroked his brow, loving the way it felt to experience his soft, dark hair under her hand. It was a reflex from spending nights together, when she loved to touch his face where he knelt over her, a new level of closeness as they made love.
She felt her heart swell with joy, just thinking of what wonder lay ahead of her in their new life. They would reach her uncle's estate, where there was a dower house, which her uncle had promised her would be hers to share with her family. She herself could not inherit Malpons, but her son – should she have one – would be heir after Uncle.
She beamed. She had her suspicions that soon they would be expecting a child. She could already be almost sure, but she hesitated to mention it to Adair until she was sure he was less worried.
“I know,” he said, kissing her brow. “My dear, you are a veritable sweetheart.”
“Oh, Adair, you too,” she giggled, as her senses took leave of her, melting into sweet bliss as he kissed her brow and eyelids, moving slowly down her face.
When they sat back, bodies warm with the kiss, she looked into his eyes. “Adair, my sweetheart,” she said, holding his gaze, “I think we will not be alone as we travel France.”
“Not alone?” he looked puzzled. She bit back a delighted smile. “But, dearest..? We...”
“We will be alone for a while yet,” she grinned, unable to hold back her smile any longer. “But we won't travel without another...presence.”
He stared at her wonderingly as she took his hand and rested it, softly, on her lower abdomen. His eyes grew round.
“My dearest? Are you sure? I mean...you can be sure...how..?”
Genevieve felt her face split with a grin. “Oh, my dearest! You do make it sound complicated.”
He looked into her face, his brown eyes soft, and he laughed too. “Oh, my dearest.”
He embraced her and they lay on the chaise together, their bodies pressed close, the sweetness of his presence curved to her body, his head on her shoulder.
The day rose beyond the windows to snow and cold, but inside a fire burned brightly. The glow was like the glow in her heart, but nothing like its incandescent brightness. Because the light of love is all-consuming and all-reaching, swallowing all shadows and making them disappear.
Love is the guiding light.
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Lairds of Dunkeld Series
Book 1 Link -> Heart Of A Highlander
Book 2 Link -> The Highlander’s Challenge
Book 3 Link -> The Highland Hero
Book 4 Link - > The Cursed Highlander
Book 5 Link - > The Highlander’s Dilemma
Book 6 Link -> The Highlander’s Awakening
Book 7 Link -> The Highland Secret Agent
Book 8 Link -> A Highlander’s Terror
Book 9 Link -> Soul Of A Highlander
Book 10 Link -> Courage Of A Highlander
* * *
Blood of Duncliffe Series
Book 1 Link -> The Highlander’s Trust
Book 2 Link -> Destiny Of A Highlander
Book 3 Link -> Highland Love Prevails
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ok 4 Link -> Love For A Reluctant Highland Lass
Book 5 Link -> Shadowy Highland Romance
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Acknowledgement
Thank you for taking your time and energy to read “Shadowy Highland Romance”. Without your continuous support, I would not have written this book.
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~ Emilia
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Publisher’s Notes
Copyright © 2017, 2018 by EMILIA FERGUSON
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real or dead people, places, or events are not intentional and are the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author/publisher. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Shadowy Highland Romance: Blood of Duncliffe Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 20