Page 96 of My Scot, My Surrender
The decision did not surprise him. Brandt expected it was twofold. Patrick did not want to hover as the new laird found his feet, and he also wanted to be free of the ghost of his father, who had chained him to his duty from birth. At least for a time. Brandt understood the inclination.
“Go where you must, but know that your place is here, brother,” Brandt told him. “This is your home, and it always will be.”
“Thank ye,” Patrick said. “Ye’ll look after Mother, won’t ye? And the wee lass, too, though I expect that’ll no’ be easy. I dunnae ken what’s gotten into Aisla.”
“With my life.” Brandt grinned, knowing exactly what—orwho—had gotten into their sister. “Have you told Callan? I daresay his head might just explode.”
Patrick laughed, the uninhibited sound drawing a startled glance from their mother. “I’ll send for him for a visit once I’m settled.” He stood. “In the meantime, I spot a beautiful lass who needs rescuing from an over-ardent Maclaren.”
Brant watched the carousing for a few moments longer and stretched out his leg, wincing at the twinge. It wasn’t hurting him but tended to stiffen after a while. He kneaded the cramping muscle with the heel of one palm.
“Is it paining you?” a worried voice asked.
He looked up into the gleaming blue eyes of his love, who stood beside his chair. Sorcha’s cheeks were bright with flushed color, and Brandt couldn’t help himself. He reached for her arm and drew her down into his lap.
“Brandt,” she gasped.
“No one’s watching,” he said with a low laugh. “They’re all dancing.”
“Everyone’swatching. Including your mother, and mine.”
He kissed her neck, breathing in the fragrant scent of her. “Actually, they look like they’re plotting how many heirs they should expect.”
Guarded eyes the exact shade of her glittering dress met his. She swallowed and gathered her lower lip between her teeth. “Heirs?”
“We should probably start thinking of that, don’t you think?”
“Now?” she said on a breathless gasp.
Brandt grinned at her one-word answers. “I love throwing you off-balance and making you speechless. Though I much prefer doing it with my tongue in your mouth.”
“Brandt!” But her color had heightened, and he could feel the clench of her thighs on top of his. He was sure that she could also feel the thickened shape of his arousal, a constant affliction, it seemed, whenever she was near.
“I want you,” he told her in a rasping whisper, his knuckles skimming down between their bodies to her trim waist. “I want to put bairns in this flat stomach of yours. I want to see you become round and luscious and beautiful. I want part of me to grow inside of you.”
Her mouth went soft and her eyes grew dark at his words. Words he never imagined he’d utter, but everything had changed.Hehad changed. And it was all because of the radiant woman cradled in his arms.
She crawled out of his lap and stood as if he hadn’t said a thing, her beautiful face reserved and expressionless. Then she bent and licked his ear, making aching parts of him throb. “Meet me upstairs in fifteen minutes and dunnae be late, ye ken.”
Her hoarse brogue was a seductive promise that nearly unmanned him. It took Brandt more than the allotted fifteen minutes to calm his raging erection enough to stand and not invite ridicule, and another forty-five to take his leave. By the time he climbed the stairs to his bedchamber, his body was almost bursting with anticipation. No doubt her punishment for his tardiness would be dire. Brandt opened the door and closed it, his eyes feasting on the sight that awaited him on the bed.
His gorgeous wife was naked.
And asleep.
With a low chuckle, Brandt undressed, climbed into bed, and then proceeded to wake her in the most delicious way possible. He made love to her with exquisite slowness, bringing her to ecstasy with his hungry tongue and hands before allowing himself his own shuddering release. And afterward, when they lay in each other’s arms, spent and satiated, Sorcha looked at him with all the love in her eyes, her hands pressed to her belly. “I hope you succeeded.”
“Me, too.”
“What do you think he or she will be like?” she whispered as he pulled the blankets over them and drew her back into his chest. Brandt curled his body around hers in a protective embrace, one arm tucked beneath her breasts. He kissed her bare shoulder.
“Strong. Brave. Fierce.”
“With your eyes,” she said.
He drew his fingers through her long glossy locks that felt like satin in his fingers. “And your hair.”
“Your quiet reserve,” Sorcha added. “And your humility.”
