Page 65 of The Heather Wife
“Calum,” she said, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
He stopped, turning toward her. “Aye?”
She looked up at him, heart pounding. “I’m happy for Duncan and Katherine. Truly. They’re both so full of joy, and it’s a beautiful thing to see.”
He smiled faintly. “Aye, it is. Duncan near burst when she said yes.”
Sorcha laughed, a short breath that trembled halfway between amusement and nerves. “He deserves it. They both do.” Her fingers tightened on the edge of her plaid, and she drew a deeper breath. “I’ve been thinkin’, Calum. About us.”
He grew still, the warmth in his eyes softening. “Go on.”
“I’m happy,” she said simply. “Happier than I ever thought I could be. We talk, we work side by side, we… we’ve begun again, I think.” Her gaze lifted to meet his. “But there’s still somethin’ missin’—a part of me that’s restless.”
He frowned slightly. “What kind of restlessness?”
“The kind that comes from wantin’,” she whispered. “All my life, I dreamed of the things a wife might have—a home, a husband who is also her friend, a clan to care for, and bairns. Many, many bairns.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “I thought after our marriage, those dreams would come with time. But I’ve spent too long afraid—of losin’, of hopin’ too much.”
She drew a shuddering breath. “Now I’m not afraid anymore. I want to live the life we were meant to have. I want to be husband and wife in truth.”
Calum’s throat worked, his voice low when it came. “I love you Sorcha…”
She reached out, cupping his jaw to silence him, her gaze fierce.
But she lifted her chin, steady now. “And I love you Calum MacRae. I ken ye’ve been patient, and I’ve been grateful for it. But I want our marriage to be real, starting tonight.”
Her words hung between them, the air thick with their weight.
Calum’s hand rose, brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek, his touch as soft as breath.
“Are you sure?” he asked again, voice hushed but rough at the edges.
Sorcha nodded. “Aye, Calum. I’m sure.”
For a heartbeat neither moved, the space between them humming like the drawn string of a bow.
Calum’s hand found the latch, but he hesitated, eyes searching hers once more for permission. Sorcha reached out, laying her hand over his, and together they pressed the door open.
The fire still burned low within, the air faintly scented with warm oak and a crisp, resinous pine. He closed the door behind them, and the quiet that followed was the kind that belonged to sacred things. The scent reminded Sorcha of Agnes, her friend in the kitchen, who had given her a small bundle of dried pine needles to place near the coals for clean air.
He turned to her slowly. “If I hurt ye—if ye change your mind—”
“I won’t,” she whispered.
For a long heartbeat they only looked at each other, neither daring to move first. Then he reached for her, one hand lifting to her jaw, his thumb grazing her bottom lip where it trembled. When he kissed her, it wasn’t tentative—slow, yes, but deep, the kind of kiss that spoke of hunger kept too long at bay.
She sighed against him, her hands pressing to his chest, feeling the strength there, the thrum of his heart under coarse linen. When he deepened the kiss, her breath hitched. The rasp of his beard, the weight of his body inching closer—it was almost too much. He drew back just an inch, eyes heated, voice rough.
“Tell me if I go too far.”
Her answer came steady but soft. “Ye won’t.”
He kissed her again, slower, his mouth gentling hers until her whole body trembled. One hand settled firm at her waist, urging her closer; the other traced the side of her neck, down to where her pulse fluttered. Fear, restraint, guilt—all of it slipped away beneath his touch.
They undressed together, garments tumbling silently to the floor. His palms skimmed from her shoulders to her breast, circling, teasing, until her breath came in shallow bursts. When his lips moved to her throat, she gasped his name—half sound, half prayer.
“God help me,” he breathed against her skin. “I’ve wanted this—wanted ye—for so long.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently until he met her gaze. “Then take what’s already yours.”
