Page 33 of Christmas at Castle Dunrannoch
“Penning more of yer notes, ma love?” Ragnall kissed her nape, one hand cupping her breast while the other came to rest upon her rounded belly. “Have ye reached the chapter on how to go about milking the cows yet—or perhaps one on murdering yer husband?”
“Away wi’ ye!” Laughing, Flora smacked at the hand squeezing her, though she smiled as Ragnall nuzzled at her ear. “I’ve been writing the ingredients for clootie dumpling. If ma volume is tae include all the things useful tae our daughters, we shouldnae leave out such an important recipe.”
“Indeed, we shouldnae.” Ragnall grazed his mouth lower, pushing away the edge of Flora’s gown. Taking his kisses along her collarbone, he looked at her from the outer edge of her shoulder. "'Tis my opinion that the bairn ye be carrying is a son, but I've nae objection to us continuing our duties until ye've a clutch o' daughters to pass yer wisdom to. They'll be known throughout the land as the cleverest of lassies, nae doubt."
Flora smiled contentedly. It pleased her no end that Ragnall approved of her knowing how to read, and to write. She'd great plans, in fact, to ensure that everyone at the castle knew their letters. Maggie had already proven a quick learner, and there was no child of Balmore who couldn't now write their name.
"What of the chapter on teaching yer man how to please ye in bed?" Ragnall's thumb brushed her nipple, making Flora catch her breath. "Do we have room to add more there?”
“Ye are a wicked man, Ragnall Dalreagh, coming tae distract me when I’ve so much still tae do.” But Flora leant her head back upon his chest and closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his mouth, trailing more kisses, warm against her cool skin.
“I’m dedicating a whole section to husbands, as it happens.” She sighed as Ragnall lifted her, carrying her gently to the bed. Lying still, she laughed as he worshipped her from her ankles, all the way upward, until she gasped and laughed some more, and gasped again.
“Ye’ve a chapter on this I suppose.” His voice came muffled from beneath her skirts.
“Oh, aye. ’Twill be a hefty chapter.” Flora buried her cry of pleasure against the back of her hand as Ragnall lifted her bottom a little, to more easily demonstrate the finer points of what should be included. “But more research…” she panted, hardly able to catch her breath, “would be favourable.”
Flora never doubted that Ragnall would oblige.
There were no more words then. Only the sweet comfort of two souls well met, and with no place else they wished to be than in the other’s arms.
Read on, for more romance and intrigue within the Dalreagh clan, at Castle Dunrannoch…
The Lady’s Guide to Mistletoe and Mayhem
by Emmanuelle de Maupassant
The wild moors of Scotland, 1904
Texas rancher Rye Dalreagh is being thrown in at the deep-end as the long-lost heir to Castle Dunrannoch, with five potential brides to choose from and a whole lot to learn about being a 'proper gentleman'.
Ursula needs to hide from her dastardly guardian and his oafish marriage plans, until her inheritance unlocks on her twenty-fifth birthday.
A chance meeting on a train has Ursula taking on the identity of an elderly etiquette teacher, and heading to the castle to whip her 'young charge' into shape—but horse-riding, cow-lassoing, Stetson-wearing Rye is a whole lot more than she's bargained for.
Rye is expected to choose a bride but, with a murderer on the loose, and an ancient Scottish curse to navigate, will he ever make it down the aisle?
Prologue
Arrington Hall, Buckinghamshire
25th December, 1887
“Really Eustace,there’s no need to cry about it!”
Ursula gave a great sigh. She’d only pointed out that Eustace’s wooden guardsman wasn’t wearing the proper sort of boots and that his jacket didn’t have the correct number of buttons. It was merely an observation. He didn’t need to blub! Sometimes, he was as bad as his little sisters.
“Look, he can still marry my Penelope. She won’t mind about it. Stand him up and they can say their vows.”
With a sniffle, Eustace did as he was told.
“What sort of boots are they meant to be then?” He touched the felt, frowning.
“Leather, of course, extending to the knee. It takes at least five pounds of beeswax to polish them.” Ursula was rather proud of knowing such things. “I’ll ask Papa if you might come with us next time you’re in town and we go to the barracks. It’s not far from the Eaton Square house to Hyde Park.”
Licking her finger, she wiped a smudge from Penelope’s cheek. “I’ve sat on one of the horses, although I had to be lifted on, since they’re all sixteen hands. We might ask for you to take a ride if you like.”
A look of terror crossed Eustace’s face. “I—I’d rather not. Still a bit scared to be honest, since the pony threw me.”
