Page 77 of The Love Leap

“Well, Mrs. MacDowell,” Cal teases with a cheeky grin, using the firestarter on his survival knife to light two candles and a tiny oil lamp on the dresser. “Can I take ye to bed— with fewer clothes this time?”

Before I can come up with one of my classic snappy comebacks and potentially spoil the mood, I leap onto the bed impulsively, yanking my fresh-off-the-altar husband down with me in a burst of infectious laughter. We crumple onto the soft quilt in a jumble of limbs and wedding finery.

I lay there chortling, amazed at the delightful madness of it all.

“What has ye grinning ear to ear?” Cal asks, propping himself up on an elbow to gaze at me.

“Just thinking how surreal all of this is. Us. Married. In Scotland... in 1645.”

“Aye, it’s pure mad,” he agrees as he smooth back an errant lock of my hair. “But there’s no one else I’d rather be mad with than you, Mills.”

His lips find mine in a kiss that ignites a rush of pure need through me. I melt into him, savoring the strength of his arms, the softness of his lips, and the scrape of his stubble. When we finally break apart, I look up at him, feeling the sweltering heat of our connection.

“You know,” I say, playing with the edge of his kilt, “when I rented the last cottage on the cove, all I wanted was a quiet escape and a spark for my novel. Now I’m working on a series set in Scotland, and you’re... quite the character study.” I laugh.

Cal’s voice spills out in a sultry whisper. “Happy to help with the research, especially if it involves positions.” He gives me a flirty wink, and I roll my eyes.

“You’re a handful,” I say.

“Aye. It’s part of my charm.”

I caress his chest and imagine working side-by-side, creating something meaningful. That picture sends a tingle of excitement through me.

“Let’s start writing tomorrow. Maybe we can mix in some Loch Ness legends.”

His gaze softens, warmth flooding his eyes. “With yer creativity and my local lore, it’ll practically write itself.”

My fingers trace his jaw, savoring the rugged feel beneath my touch. I’m practically drooling over my husband and his perfect mix of grit and sophistication.

Cal rummages in his sporran and pulls out a cell phone.

“I believe ye deserve a proper wedding waltz, Mills. This time, I’m prepared. It’s Cameron’s playlist, but it’ll serve us well.”

A soft laugh slips out as I recall our missed kiss at Rosewood Cottage. “So, no more depending on Mother Nature for our romantic soundtrack?”

“Nae,” he grins wickedly, tapping away on the screen.

“I’ll not be shown up by horny deer again.”

As the room fills with the haunting melody of a Scottish love ballad, Cal tosses the phone onto the table and tugs me against him. One hand finds its way to my lower back while the other intertwines with mine. Our bodies sway to the rhythm of the music in an instinctive dance that feels as natural as breathing.

Caught in Cal’s intense gaze, those sapphire eyes promising me everything under the stars, I feel like I’m drowning in pure adoration.

To think that when I arrived in Aven Valley, I was just another cynic with a shattered faith in love... Andnow? Now here I am head over heels for a tartan-clad man who bulldozed through my walls with his kindness and charm.

If this is some sort of dream, then please don’t wake me up, because everything about this moment is real. The solid warmth of Cal’s body pressed against mine, his earthy-spicy scent filling my senses, the rhythmic thud of his heart in time with mine—it’s all beautifully, achingly real.

The rhythm of the music holds us together, lost in our own little universe. Cal’s hands start to wander, tracing my curves with a reverence that sets my skin aflame.

“Mills,” he growls, his voice gravelly with want. “Do you have any clue what you’re doing to me?”

“I think I’m starting to get an idea,” I breathe out, my fingers digging into the soft fabric of his shirt.

His lips find that sweet spot just below my ear.

“Oh love, ye’ve only just begun to understand,” he says in a huskier growl, sending delicious tremors down my spine. And then he’s kissing me—a scorching kiss that’s all-consuming passion and unhidden need. I surrender myself completely, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his desire.

When we finally break apart for air, I blink open my eyes and find Cal looking at me with an expression that’s a potent mix of love, lust, and pure joy. The way he gazes at me like I’m the most precious thing in his world makes me feel like the air’s left my lungs. That,and sensing his growing arousal through the fabric of his kilt.

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