Page 58 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“Let it out, love,” he kissed her cheek, “Let me hear ye.”
His words kicked off her completion as she seized around him, as she came, shivering in his hands and crying out sweetly. He held her close, drinking in her pleasure but knew he was not able to follow her. Quickly, he pulled himself from her with a growl and finished in his hand.
Holding her close, he felt pride at her pounding heartbeat and the tiny shivers against his body. When her breathing calmed and she looked at him with a dazed smile, his chest puffed with pride.
“Ye’ve outdone yerself,” Violet breathed on his chest.
“Have I?” He teased. “I ken I can dae better.”
She lightly struck his chest, “I dinnae have yer stamina, sir, ye’ll kill me with yer kind loving.”
Rubbing her back, Ethan smiled, “I wouldnae want that…” he felt her rub her cheek against his chest and, in a startling flash of realization that he did not need the perfect moment or peace to ask her the question resting on his heart, he tilted her head up and smiled at her querying look, “Violet…will ye marry me?”
“Is this a jest?” She asked but he heard the tremors of hope in her voice.
“I would never jest about this,” he said, “I truly dae want ye to be me wife.”
She pushed him to lay on his back as before placing a hand on his chest and balancing over him. With a deep searching look, Violet probed his eyes for any hint of a hoax but he kept his gaze still and unwavering.
“Yer…serious, arenae ye?” she whispered.
“More than I have ever been in me life,” he pressed. “Marry me, Violet.”
Cupping his cheek, she leaned forward until her forehead rested on his and in the barest whisper, said, “Aye, I’ll marry ye.”
With a relieved laugh, he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss.
21
She felt Ethan’s kiss as he rose before dawn but did not move as she was too contented. Barely opening her eyes to slits, Violet watched as he gathered his clothes to go to the river. A swift glance to the window told her it was still heavily dark.
“Be careful,” she murmured sleepily, turning on her belly to lay on the warm spot he had just moved from.
The bed dipped and he knelt over her, kissing the curve of her shoulders, “I’m always careful, love and ye should be too. Remember what I said about using Shadow.”
“Aye,” she turned her head to look at him. “Gut anyone who isnae ye.”
“I ken I said, use it without remorse if anyone but me comes in,” he chuckled, dropping another kiss on her cool skin.
“It’s the same thing,” she replied, angling her head to him, “Hurry back.”
“Aye, but first,” he said rolling her over and pressing his lips to hers in a soft, tender kiss to pull away. She smiled at the pleased look resting in his eyes. “Now I’m all set. Take care,mo chridhe.”
“Ye, too,” Violet whispered.
Turning back to rest, she heard the back door close but in her inner mind, she could see Ethan going to saddle his horse and walk him to the front before going down to the river. He would bathe and let the horse drink before setting off on his journey. Ethan MacFerson, the man she loved and who was going to be her husband.
It still felt so surreal, like a dream where she had not fully woke up from. But it was real and felt so right. Smiling onto the sheets, Violet replayed the moments of last night, and stayed on the moment when Ethan had whispered those wonderful words.
His eyes had glittered and his embrace had been warm. They made love again, resulting in her drifting off to sleep in sweet exhaustion. Lingering in bed until her stomach began to rumble, Violet rose to feel warm sunlight streaming through the window. She cleaned up quickly and went to make some porridge with the last of the milk they had carried.
She ate and made to give the horse some water but stopped at the doorway only to smile. The horse’s head was down in a bucket. Sagging on the frame, she shook her head softly.
He kent of everything.
Backing into the main room, she puttered around, straightening the bed, fixing the sacks and sweeping the floor. There was not much food so she could not cook anything until Ethan came back. With the broom’s handle grasped loosely in her hand, she looked around the humble, simplistic room.
There was nothing special about it, no lovely walls covered with artistic molding, nothing was edged with gold and there were no fine rugs on the floor. The lawn outside wasn’t filled with blooming roses or bushes but held shrubs with little purple buds. This modest cottage felt more precious to her than a palace made of crystal.
