The Highlander’s Accidental Wife (Queen’s Edict #3)

Extended Epilogue

Three Months Later

Spring had dawned on Galeclere, and it greeted Helena, curled up into the window seat in the Laird and Lady’s room, in the cool, green-scented dawn. Everything was still muddy and drying out from months of snow and rain, but there were glimmers of growth and color if one looked hard enough.

Plus, the days had been growing milder and milder, and today promised to be fair. Inhaling deeply, watching the shadows play over the world and the sky overhead lighten, one last star winking out, she smiled to herself.

To think I met Damien just over a year ago.

As though hearing her thoughts, her husband made a rough, Scottish sound and murmured her name. Then, he stirred in their bed, his hand rooting around in the sheets, and she smiled to herself.

He’d been gone for a long, long week and had barely been able to keep his eyes open as she’d helped him bathe last night, never mind when they retired to bed. Something she knew he’d be furious about once he woke up.

“Dammit, Hel,” came a low groan that made her blood simmer. “Ye better be in the bloody room.”

“I am not a fool, My Laird.”

“Where—the damn window? Again? Will ye come back to bed and stop communin’ with the stars at dawn?”

He sat up and ruffled his hair, making the wild black curls stand out even more. The blue of his eye gleamed in the shadows, and the blankets pooled around his waist.

“Come here. Now. I’ve been gone for a bloody week, and ye let me fall asleep on ye before greetin’ ye properly?”

She stood up with a smile, setting aside the book she’d meant to read, and her heart raced. She’d been too excited to sleep, for she’d decided she could not wait another day to tell Damien what she and Lady Merie had found out last night.

“What are ye up to?” Damien gave her a sleepy, searching look, and she dropped her gown. His eyebrows shot up, and his lips parted, then white teeth flashed in his dark beard. “Ye should’ve woken me, sweet.”

“No, you needed your sleep,” Helena murmured. “You had a terrible time traveling all last week in that wretched rain and…” She laughed as he threw back the sheets to reveal his already erect manhood. “On top, My Laird?”

“Whatever ye like, Milady,” Damien said and tucked his hands beneath his head. Then, he let out a growl as she tugged a sheet back over his lap and then climbed into it. “What the hell—oh, Christ, Hel.”

She placed her hands on his bare chest and kissed the crook of his neck. Of all the spots that undid him, this was one of her favorites.

His thighs shook, and his hands clenched at her waist. She rolled her hips, teasing him, and did not want to admit that she’d gotten this idea from a book.

“I missed ye, My Laird,” Helena said in a husky voice that she knew made him lose his mind.

“Ye cheeky minx. Ye are the ruin and salvation of me,” he said. “Och aye, God.” He panted as she leaned down. “Did ye get this from another one of those books?” She nodded as she swirled her tongue around his nipple, and he tugged on her long, loose hair. “I dinnae ken whether to get ye more or less, but ye are about to set me on fire, me dragonness.”

She laughed and sat up, smiling at him as his chest heaved. Such a beautiful man, her warrior. And she’d never been so happy, so free.

“Hel, ye are bein’ so quiet,” Damien said, and his hands slid up her arms. “Ye dinnae seem sad or concerned, but ye are…” His good eye searched her face. “Well, I am nae sure.”

“I’m happy, my love,” Helena murmured and kissed him, soft and lingering.

“Aye, I see that,” Damien said, and his good eye narrowed. “But ye are also bein’ mysterious and teasin’.” He leaned in and nipped her lips. “I ken ye. Ye’re up to somethin’.”

“Maybe,” Helena said and kissed him harder.

She gasped as Damien ripped the sheet away and his hot, hard length teased up and down her folds. Her head fell back, and she panted, then gasped as he lifted her hips away.

“What?”

Damien’s smirk was downright evil. “Shall we see whose patience wins out?” He lifted her higher, and she writhed with need. “Or will ye tell me what is goin’ on?”

Helena caught his face and dug her fingers in slightly, then made him laugh as she tugged on his beard. At first, they stared each other down, and then Damien swallowed hard when she let her fingers trace down his neck, then teased her thumbs over his collarbones.

“Nae feckin’ fair,” he said and yanked her down onto his manhood.

Helena cried out in pleasure and triumph, her back arching as she took her husband. Ah, but he was hitting her so deep, in the way he knew best.

“Ride me hard, Hel,” he snarled as he nipped her breasts and then slapped her rear. “Ye wanted this, did ye nae?”

“Yes, yes,” Helena said and closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of him, the muted green shadows of the room behind her eyes, and the warm scent of his skin. Focusing on their labored breathing, his groans, and the slap of flesh on flesh. “More.”

Damien swore in Gaelic and grabbed her hips, helping her, and then they tumbled over the edge together.

Sometime later, they were tangled in a blissful embrace. Damien, her dear and exhausted Highland brute, was half-asleep. His arm was draped over her, while her cheek rested on his furry chest.

Tremors of pleasure still ran through Helena, and she reflected on how every time they came together, she felt reborn. Renewed. Their passion had not faded, but it only seemed to grow and ignite further.

Especially after a brief parting.

“I love you,” Helena said.

“Aye, ye love me,” Damien murmured. “Mostly for me muscles.”

“Well, that’s what makes you such a good dancer,” Helena teased and kissed his chest.

“I love ye, too, Hel,” Damien said. “Thank ye for such a nice way to start the day.”

Soon after, he fell back asleep.

Helena bit her lip, gazing at his still, serious face. Every day, she loved him more, and she’d stopped trying to understand how. It just was, as the sun rose and the stars twinkled.

And if he’d been happy with how she’d started the day…

“Just wait until tonight,” she whispered.

***

Damien still did not know what Helena was up to, but he did know that his mother, Gwen, and Orrick were in on it. First, Orrick had arrived with a fine new kilt and a white shirt, then his mother brought up boots, and Gwen came by with a note from Helena.

“She’s invitin’ me to dinner? In our castle?” Damien asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Aye. Are ye nae a lucky one, Milaird?” Gwen teased.

“I am. I ken it well,” Damien said. Then, he smiled at his cousin, pink-cheeked and glowing, and not quite starting to show. “I’m glad Orrick heeded me words.”

Gwen shot him a dark look, not liking the joke that Orrick and Damien had about how Orrick had followed his Laird’s orders perfectly, for dear Gwen was now with child.

“I was with child before ye decided to stop yer mad quest, Damien,” she said. “But I do thank ye for returnin’ me husband in one piece.”

“Ach, I am sorry that our trip lasted long. Damn rains,” he said. “He’ll be home more often than nae, I swear to ye.”

“I will hold ye to that,” Gwen said and started for the door. “And ye?”

Damien thought back to Helena this morning, curled up in the window and smiling over at him, her dark hair falling around her. How she’d been smiling at him in the same way when he’d woken up after falling asleep on her again.

“Try to keep me away,” he said.

“I cannae even tease ye,” Gwen sighed. “We fall so hard in this clan, it’s almost ridiculous. Ye ken that they have bloody songs about ye in the village?”

Damien nodded, still tickled over it, even if Helena was rather mortified about it.

“Alright, I’ll go,” Gwen said. “Dinnae be late.”

Damien nodded and went back to his study, trying to focus on his work, but he couldn’t. Finally, he went outside and found Sophia attempting to teach Jolly some new tricks. For all that the dog was a foolish mess of gangly legs, he was smart.

They spent a merry few hours in the sun, and Damien only wished that Helena would join them. But he suspected he knew the reason behind the soft, peaceful look in his wife’s eyes.

I guess ye dinnae need a year, Hel. Just space and support.

Finally, it was time to go in, to get ready for dinner, and Damien found himself as excited as he’d been on his wedding day. Impatient to bathe and dress, he walked quickly through the halls until he reached the cozy, pretty room tucked in a corner that overlooked the sea and the garden.

He walked in, thinking he was first, and then pulled up short as though he’d taken an arrow to the heart.

Perhaps he had, as he ran his good eye over the dazzling woman speaking quietly with staff. Her dark hair was piled atop her head, her gestures calm and elegant, and light glanced off her glasses as she turned and gasped.

“You’re early,” Helena chided.

“I couldnae wait…” Damien said and stepped forward as the servants scattered. “Holy feck, Helena. Ye… Is this punishment for bein’ gone for a week? Should I do it more often or less?”

His wife lifted her chin, but her pink cheeks betrayed her. She wore a soft gown of pale green silk, one that looked shot with gold when she moved and made her eyes glow.

No, all of Helena seemed to glow, and again, Damien thought of their wedding day.

She’d worn a dress of deep, deep gold that day, almost bronze, and she’d been so lovely, so ethereal, that he had been certain he had to be dreaming.

He was just as dazed now.

“We are married, aye? I’m nae dreamin’.”

“Damien,” Helena said and stepped forward, kissing him. He smiled at the fairy in his arms. “We’ve been married for months.”

“I still cannae believe it,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. “That ye are mine, and me wife.”

“Alright, my foolish darling. Go sit,” Helena instructed. “I will be right back.”

“Ye better,” Damien said and threw himself into a chair, where he sprawled and watched his wife flit around the room before she headed to the door. “Hel.”

She turned at the door and raised her eyebrows.

“That is yer color, love,” he said in a low voice. Then, he let his smirk grow as he slowly looked her over and tilted his head to the side. “But ye ken how I truly prefer ye.”

Naked. Hair down. At me mercy.

He’d said as much on their wedding night, after complimenting her dress.

That time, Helena had flushed, and now, she did seem pinker. But she merely tossed her head and said, “I am aware, My Laird. Hence the way we started the day.”

His jaw dropped as she swept out of the room, and he groaned, tipping his head back. Then, he sat up, pressing a hand to his pocket, where he had a pretty bracelet. Good thing he hadn’t waited to have it made to celebrate her triumph.

When Helena came back, cooks and servants were in tow, with a feast of all his favorite things. Damien’s eyebrows rose. Why had she gone to such lengths for her triumph?

He almost asked when the door closed behind the last servant and Helena sat across from him, sitting straight and beaming. They talked about Morighe and his trip, and then swapped stories of what they’d each missed. Laughter echoed through the room, and Damien’s heart was full.

“All right,” he said as Helena proposed another course. “Before that, tell me. What is yer exciting news?”

Helena bit her lip as she fought a smile. “Do you want to guess?”

“Aye,” Damien said. He let a moment of silence follow while Helena adorably fidgeted. “Ye finished yer translation.”

Eyes wide, Helena’s lips parted, and she seemed unable to speak for a moment. Then, her eyes shone, and she gave him such a fierce, tender look that he felt heat rising to his neck.

“Oh, Damien,” she said. “Of course, that’s what you think it is.” She stood up and walked to the window, where she perched on the edge of the sill, gazing at him. “I will admit, the rain helped speed things up. And yes, I am done.”

“Helena,” Damien said as he stood up and walked over to her. “Congratulations, me love. I am so, so proud of ye.” He caught her sweet face and kissed her, tasting the honey of the cake she’d nibbled on. “I cannae wait to read it.”

“Thank you,” Helena said and gave him a swift hug. “But there’s more. Do you want to sit down?”

“Sit down?” Damien asked with a laugh and pulled her up, then swung her around in a dance. “Nay. Tell me.”

“I’m with child.”

Damien jerked to a halt, yanking her against him, his heart beating so loud and fast that he could barely hear her saying his name. He stared at her face, her bright hazel eyes wet with unshed tears, and then took in the glow of his beautiful, beautiful wife.

“Holy feckin’ Christ,” he blurted out. Helena gasped, smacking him and then glancing around. “Ye are serious? Ye arenae messin’ with me?”

“Are you serious?” Helena retorted, standing straighter. “You think—mmph!”

Damien had surged forward, catching his wife’s face and kissing her hard. As hard as the night when he thought he’d lost her, as hard as their wedding night. Hell, as hard as he often did when he was parted from her for any amount of time.

And now…?

“Wife of mine,” Damien managed to get out when they broke apart, both gasping. “Ye have nay idea how happy I am. Our child. Our family.” He stepped back and gazed at her. “Have I thanked ye for askin’ me to dance?”

Helena tossed her head. “I don’t think you have, Sir.”

Damien grinned, dropping her hands and making a show of prowling toward her, to which her face lit up. But then he spun around her, grabbed the tablecloth, and threw everything to the floor.

“What are you—we did not have dessert yet, you impossible fool. Wait, wait, Damien!” Helena squealed as he lifted her, putting his arm under her knees, and carried her to the table, setting her on it. “Oh.”

“Aye, wife, ye ken what’s me favorite dessert,” Damien purred as he flipped up her skirts. “I hope ye dinnae care for these underclothes.”

Helena rolled her eyes even as her chest rose and fell. “I know better now.”

Damien all but ripped them off, exposing her pale, shaking thighs and the pretty petals covered in curls.

“Hmm, let me show ye how I love ye, Hel,” Damien said as he bent down to kiss her trembling inner thigh. “How happy I am.”

“Damien, maybe we should go back to our room.”

“Ach, nay, me love,” Damien said as he kissed up her inner thigh. “They shall hear ye screamin’ me name and pleadin’ for mercy, and they will ken that I mean to devour a dragonness tonight.”

With that, he set to pleasuring Helena as wickedly as he could. He teased and tasted her, drawing out her pleasure again and again. Teasing her up and down until she was sobbing with pleasure and clutching at his hair. When she came once, she thought he was done.

But no. Lady MacCabe carried his heir, and he meant to show her how much he appreciated her—even if it took all night.

Over and over, Damien brought her pleasure, until she begged him to take her. They crashed around the room, coming together and apart, their love a wild and untamed thing.

It was little wonder that when dawn came, they found themselves outside, Helena now wearing his shirt and his cloak, while he stood in nothing but his kilt and boots.

“Thank ye, Hel,” he told her as the sky began to lighten.

She smiled at him, pressing a hand to his cheek. “It was both of us.”

He chuckled and nipped her palm, then shook his head. “Ach, ye willnae be sayin’ that when the babe comes, but I appreciate it. But ye…” He turned to her. “Ye reminded me to dream. And ye are me dream come true.” A warm laugh escaped him as he cradled her face. “And then ye have the bloody cheek to give me another.”

“Well, you know I don’t hold back,” Helena whispered. “We’re alike in that way.”

“Aye,” Damien said. “And I’ve never been more grateful. Never, ever hold back, me dragonness.” He kissed her forehead. “And ken that if ye want the world, I shall give it to ye.”

“Damien,” Helena said and tilted her face up, the sunrise warming it. “I already have it.”

The End.