Kendra was in no frame of mind to summon false protestations of modesty or decorum. She wanted him, too. Feverishly.
He laid her upon the turned-down bed, then stood back, hands on his lean hips, his smoldering gaze raking over her. “How could I have been so blind for so long?”
He sat upon the edge of the mattress and reverently ran his forefinger over her cheek, across her mouth, and down her jaw, the column of her throat, and lastly, to the tidy sky-blue ribbon tied demurely at her bodice.
The smile arcing her mouth held invitation. She wanted their joining every bit as much as he.
“Ye’ve been a treasure right before my eyes all this time,” he murmured, veneration in his voice.
She caught his hand and brought the palm to her lips. She kissed the firm, calloused flesh, breathing him in. “I was just as blind, Broden. But I’m so grateful we see at last.” Eyeing him, she propped onto her elbow. “Are ye comin’ to bed with yer clothes on?”
His eyes darkened to liquid passion, and his mouth quirked into a seductive smile that held a promise she couldn’t wait for him to fulfill.
In a few svelte strokes, he’d stripped himself bare. Standing beside the bed, he bent one knee and hands hanging loosely at his side, he patiently waited for Kendra to finish gawking.
“Oh, my.”
She dashed a swift glance upward, admiring the wide expanse of muscled chest and rippled abdomen, lingering for a moment on the fresh pinkish scar marring his shoulder. But her attention gravitated back to the rigid evidence of his arousal, jutting toward his flat stomach.
She swallowed. Not from fear, but unadulterated lust.
Scrambling to her knees, she swiftly untied the ribbon securing her gown’s light fabric and then raising her gaze to his, pulled the garment off over her head. The coolness of the room swept over her, but no embarrassment or shame assailed her.
Proudly, she remained kneeling, affording him the same opportunity to study her form as he’d permitted her. Then, he was laying her onto her back, his eyes, hands, mouth, and body worshipping her.
And she wanted to crawl inside him, to appease the pulsing ache growing and growing and growing inside her. She returned every caress, eagerly exploring the sinewy planes and contours of his spectacular body.
His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she greedily sucked as he slowly—maddeningly—teased her with taunting plunges. As he settled between her thighs, she drew her legs up, wrapping them around his waist.
She tore her mouth from his, moaning, “Please, Broden. Please.”
He nipped her shoulders before grasping her buttocks with his big hands and tilting her hips. “I love ye, lass. Ye are mine. Now and forever, Kendra.”
“Aye,” she groaned as the head of his penis entered her. Filling and stretching. God, it felt so good. “Aye, now and forever.”
Then awash with bliss, he took her to the heavens. When the sun exploded behind her eyes and her body convulsed with untold pleasure, she cried over and over, “I love ye, Broden. I love ye.”
Much later, or perhaps it had only been a few minutes, he withdrew from her and drew the bedcoverings over them. She snuggled into his side, one arm resting across his ribs and her thigh atop his.
“That,” she breathed, still groggy with passion, “was beyond amazin’.”
“Aye. ’Twas.” He kissed her temple. “Ye are amazin’.”
“Can we do it again?” She cracked an eyelid open. “I found it most enlightenin’.”
A rough chuckle exploded from him. “I see I’ve found myself a lusty wife.” He ran his tongue over her shoulder, and she gasped, arching into him. “No’ that I’m complainin’, mind ye. Give me a few minutes to recover, and I’d be delighted to enlighten ye again.”
She grew serious and propped her chin on his chest. “Broden, Mother says marriage isna easy, even when ye love yer spouse. Promise me, we’ll never let anythin’ come between us. That we will share our thoughts and feelin’s, and never go back to shuttin’ each other out. Never be adversaries like we were, bent on hurtin’ each other.”
He turned his head, scrutinizing her beloved face. “I promise, leannan. We’re startin’ with a ready-made family, and the lasses will require patience and understandin’.” He squeezed her buttocks before lacing his fingers with hers. “But together, with our love as an unshakable foundation, we can build a life for them and ourselves.”
Giving her a wicked wink, he pulled her atop him. “Now, let’s enlighten ye a trifle more.”
Epilogue
Glenawayshire, Scottish Highlands
June 1728
Kendra relaxed upon the blanket spread beneath the chestnut tree, ten-month-old Keenan asleep beside her with his little fist tucked beneath his chubby chin. The remnants of the family picnic had been haphazardly stuffed inside the hamper, and now her children romped with their father.
Amaryllis, a beautiful young lass on the cusp of womanhood, held Allina’s wee, plump hand. At almost four, she quite adored her five adopted older sisters. The girls doted on her and seven-year-old Boyd, who, at present, was proudly showing his Papa an insect of some sort.
She adjusted her position, her belly seven months swollen with another bairn, making her feel very much like a whale. A beached whale.
That first year had been a time of transformation for her and Broden. Their marriage had been delayed a month due to the countess’s suicide within hours of being confined to a servant’s chamber. Claiming she felt unwell, she’d requested tea and asked not to be disturbed until morning.
Liam had found her.
She’d broken a teacup and slit her wrists without ever seeing her daughters again.
She and Oswald had chosen to take their own lives rather than face a trial and certain hanging.
Broden and Kendra had hidden the truth from the girls.
To this day, they didn’t know the countess had killed herself, nor that she’d murdered their father and brothers. Perhaps someday, when the girls were adults, if they ever asked questions, the truth might be revealed.
Though what good it would serve, Kendra failed to see.
The former countess hadn’t been a particularly doting mother, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to go days without ever seeing her daughters. They’d been told she’d become terribly ill after consuming bad fish and had passed from food poisoning.
Naturally, they’d grieved as children do. Even when a parent was negligent, and in the former countess’s case, stark raving mad, their children loved them. It had taken several weeks before the lasses warmed up to Broden, but he’d eventually won them over.
Three years ago, after asking Amaryllis, Bergenia, Celoisa, Dianella, and Eustoma if they’d like to be adopted by Broden, and receiving enthusiastic affirmations, they’d officially become Broden and Kendra’s daughters.
The lasses were already daughters in their hearts. The documentation just made it legally so.
Grimacing, she smoothed her hands over her distended belly.
Soon, she’d be a mother to her ninth child: five adopted and four from her womb. She loved them all the same.
Giving her head a slight shake, she smiled. All those years ago, when she’d been hardly older than Allina, and she’d shadowed Broden’s every move, she never could’ve conceived the happiness the two of them would now share.
Yet as a wee lass, she’d craved his company. Perhaps even then, her soul had yearned for its mate.
Broden waved, and after accepting a fistful of wildflowers from Allina, strode toward the blanket. He folded to his side and presented Kendra with the childish bouquet. “Allina picked flowers for ye.”
Kendra accepted the mashed blooms as her attention moved over the girls and Boyd wandering the meadow. “I wish yer mother had lived to see her grandchildren.”
Broden laid his head in her lap, taking care not to disturb their sleeping son. “Aye. She’d been ill for a long while and kept it hidden from me.”
She’d d
ied within six months of their marriage.
Running her fingers through his light brown hair, she perused his beloved face. The babe chose that moment to kick vigorously, and Broden chuckled. “I’ll wager yer carryin’ another wee son. He’s very active.”
“He is, indeed,” she said, trying to bend to kiss him. “Ugh. I canna even kiss my husband, I’m so huge.”
Being a wise man who’d seen her through three previous pregnancies, he sat up and spread his palms over her tummy. “No’ so verra huge. I adore seein’ yer belly rounded with my child growin’ within ye.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I also quite like the puttin’ the bairn there business.”
Kendra laughed. She quite liked that part, too.
Cupping her nape, he pressed his mouth to hers. He tasted of berry tarts and wine. As always, even far gone in her pregnancy, her bones liquified at his practiced touch. Sighing, she slipped her arms around his neck, giving in to the moment.
Girlish giggling and a wee lad’s offended voice declaring, “That’s disgustin’,” ended the all too short romantic interlude.
Opening her eyes, Kendra observed her brood crowded around the blanket, staring at their parents. A blush tinted the four older girls’ cheeks. Allina and Eustoma looked curious, and a repulsed grimace crinkled Boyd’s face.
Broden laughed as he released Kendra and shifted to tousle their son’s hair. “Ye willna think so when ye are older.”
“Lasses are gross,” Boyd declared. Then, seeing the offended looks his sisters leveled him, amended his opinion. “Sisters arena, but other lasses are.”
“Mama, tell us again how ye and Papa met,” Allina said, crawling into her father’s lap.
The other children settled onto the blankets, expectancy in their eyes.
“Again?” Kendra sent Broden a helpless glance. “Ye’ve heard it so many times before.”
He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. “Aye, but nae one ever tires of hearin’ about true love and happily ever afters.”
The End
Author’s Note
I never know what interesting tidbits I’ll come across while researching and writing my romances. One of the things that frequently is asked of me is why I choose to use the specific Scots-speak that I do in my Scottish historicals.
I attempt to insert just enough to give the story the flare I want without bogging down the tale. I think of it like seasoning when I cook. A little enhances the flavor, but too much is unpalatable. I also defer to my editor’s suggestions since producing the best book possible for my readers is of utmost importance.
I took a liberal license in introducing hot milk punch. Nothing in my research indicates the beverage was actually served during the period of my story. I do know, however, that hot toddies and other medicinal uses of spirits were commonplace. My characters quite enjoyed the hot milk punch.
Another fact I’d like to address is the recovery period for gunshot wounds. Many things factor into recuperation, including the location of the wound, depth of penetration, the health of the victim, and the skill of the physician treating the patient. Since Broden was a strapping fellow, I permitted him a swift recovery. After all, my story needed to move along.
Unfortunately, women were little more than chattels with very few rights. In the case of Narcissa, as unjust as we view it today, she wouldn’t have been appointed her daughter’s guardian. Unless she had money of her own—highly unlikely, since a woman’s property became her husband’s upon their marriage—she’d have been totally dependent upon the new heir.
Typically, the crown claimed the entailed assets of a title if no further heirs were forthcoming. Unentailed property could be bequeathed to non-male heirs.
I enjoyed writing TO ENCHANT A HIGHLAND EARL, and I hope you found a few hours of relaxation reading Broden and Kendra’s story. If so, please consider leaving a review. I’d appreciate it very much.
Hugs,
Collette
About the Author
USA Today Bestselling, award-winning author, COLLETTE CAMERON pens Scottish and Regency historical, featuring rogues, rapscallions, rakes, and the intelligent, intrepid damsels who reform them. Blessed with fantastic fans as well as a compulsive, over-active, and witty Muse who won’t stop whispering new romantic romps in her ear, she lives in Oregon with her mini-dachshunds, though she dreams of living in Scotland part-time. You’ll always find dogs, birds, occasionally naughty humor, and a dash of inspiration in her sweet-to-spicy timeless romances.
Her motto for life? You can’t have too much chocolate, too many hugs, too many flowers, or too many books. She’s thinking about adding shoes to that list.
To stay in touch, you can find me at any of the following:
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