Page 44 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

“Yer nap after ye bedded me,” she explained.

“Aulay and yer father were lecturing ye for two hours?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well, I did no’ leave the room right away, and I had to dress first, and then hop there and then Rory bound me foot again and . . .” She shrugged. “But I’m sure ye slept for a couple hours at least.”

Geordie groaned at this news and sat on the end of the bed with her in his lap. “I will definitely no’ be sleeping tonight, then.”

“Nay,” Dwyn agreed, and said apologetically, “And I fear I’m hungry and thirsty.”

“So am I,” he said, his gaze dropping to her breasts.

Dwyn chuckled at his expression, and leaned up to kiss him lightly on the cheek, but said, “For food, m’laird. I will be more than pleased to address the other hunger after that, but first I must eat. And I fear do we no’ go down soon, we will no’ be going. Once everyone lies down for the night, we’ll no’ be able to get to the kitchens,” she pointed out solemnly.

Geordie frowned at that observation, knowing she was right. Once the castle settled for the night, they would be stuck above stairs, unable to fetch more food or drink later did they desire it. Considering his new wife’s appetite for loving, he suspected he’d want food at least twice this night to keep up his strength, and he’d definitely have to replenish his fluids at least that many times too. Remaining in the room was not looking very attractive with those concerns on his mind.

Standing abruptly, Geordie turned and set her on the bed and then moved to gather his shirt from the floor next to the tub. As he donned it, he asked, “Would ye like to see the waterfall I mentioned?”

“Could we?” Dwyn asked with excited interest.

“Aye. ’Twas a full moon last night, so will be almost full tonight still and riding a horse should no’ be a problem,” Geordie thought aloud as he pleated his plaid. “We could go below now, before everyone retires, get some food from the kitchens, and a skin o’ wine, and then take them with us to eat by the waterfall,” he suggested.

“That sounds lovely,” she breathed, and then frowned. “But we are no more likely to be able to get back to our room once everyone has retired than we are to get to the kitchens.”

“Aye, but we could always nap in the orchard do we tire ere everyone else rises,” he suggested. “That way we would no’ be stuck up here without food or drink at least.”

“Aye,” she decided. “I’d like that, m’laird.”

Smiling, Geordie donned his plaid, and then moved to gather his sgian-dubh, one of his daggers, and his sword. After sliding each weapon through his belt, he turned to walk back to her. His footsteps slowed when he noted where her gaze had gone though, and he glanced down to see that while the erection he’d awakened with had deflated while they were out in the hall, it was back and poking at his plaid again.

“I’m looking forward to making love to ye in the waterfalls,” he confessed wryly, scooping her up. “And in the meadow where we picked the wildflowers, and under our tree in the orchard.”

“Under our tree in the orchard.” Dwyn sighed the words and nestled against his chest, but then lifted her head and asked, “Do ye think we could try in the tree?”

“No’ if ye want to survive,” Geordie said dryly, and then shook his head when she looked disappointed. Heading for the door though, he murmured thoughtfully, “Mayhap we could if I think o’ some way to tie us to the tree so that if we fall out, we do no’ fall far.”

When Dwyn smiled widely at him, and kissed his chin, Geordie shook his head with amusement. He liked making Dwyn smile. He’d figure out something. He rather liked the idea of loving her in the tree. The image of her body lying back over her branch, her breasts bared as she straddled him on his branch, was an image burned in his mind. He’d like to see her like that again, but with her skirts up around her waist and him inside her. Aye, he’d think of something. But first he wanted to take her to the loch and make love to her under the waterfall. Geordie suspected that as sensitive as Dwyn was to touch, she would go wild with him inside her and the water pouring down over their bodies. That was another image burned into his brain, though only an imagined one. Dwyn on the small ledge he’d mentioned, her head back against the wall keeping her face out of the water, her back arched, breasts thrust up and nipples erect as water rained down over them while he stood between her legs, his cock buried in her lovely heat. Aye. He definitely wanted to go to the waterfall first.

“I love this spot,” Dwyn breathed when Geordie reined in his mount in a small clearing next to the loch. Her gaze slid over the falls spilling over the cliff, the water silvered by the moonlight as it tumbled into this end of the loch, and she gave a little shiver of pleasure.

“I thought ye’d like it,” Geordie said, and the arm around her waist squeezed gently. “’Tis me favorite spot here at Buchanan.”

“Then ye may jest like Innes, m’laird. Some days the sea is as wild and powerful as those falls, and others as gentle as a lamb, but ’tis always beautiful.”

She felt him press a kiss to the side of her head, and then he lifted her off of his lap and turned, leaning down to set her on the ground.

“One foot,” he reminded, and Dwyn lifted her still-bound foot before her slippered foot touched the earth. Grunting in satisfaction, he suggested, “Hold on to me mount to keep yer balance until I can carry ye to the water’s edge.”

Dwyn shifted the bag of food and drink she held to her right hand and clasped his saddle with her left as he dismounted and moved to the front of his horse to tie the reins to a low branch of the tree he’d stopped under. Her gaze moved eagerly around this small clearing as she waited. Dwyn could not believe she was so lucky. On the journey to Buchanan she’d been positive the trip was a wasted effort, and that she’d never draw the attention of one of the Buchanan brothers. Yet here she was, married to Geordie, experiencing passion she’d never imagined, and having late-night adventures in the most beautiful spots.

The only thing that could make it any better was if he loved her, but Dwyn was too sensible to fret much over that. Love was rare in a marriage, and she already had a great deal. Geordie seemed to like her well enough and enjoy her company . . . and he wanted her. She had no doubt of that. It was obvious in the way he couldn’t resist touching or kissing her when nearby, in his passion as he loved her and even in the way his eyes burned when he looked at her. Aye, he wanted her, and that was miraculous enough for now.

Dwyn did hope that eventually finer feelings would grow between them. She felt sure her own emotions were already headed that way. At times, just looking at Geordie could cause a small ache in her chest she felt sure was love. She didn’t expect he’d return the feelings in full, but hoped he’d come to care for her as more than a bed partner someday.

That being the case, now they just had Laird Brodie to deal with. Dwyn frowned and pushed the thought quickly away, not wanting to ruin a moment of the joy she’d found.

“I’m going to go lay out the plaid for us,” Geordie announced, coming around the front of the horse with the plaid they’d collected from the orchard. They’d left it there when he’d carried her into the keep after “tasting her” there the day before. Recalling that, he’d run back to collect it after setting her on his mount. “Are ye all right to stand here a few more minutes?”

“Aye,” she assured him. “I am fine, m’laird. I can wait.”

---