Epilogue
“Hold on, Max, I’ll open the door for ye!”
Laughing, Lysander hurried past Max to reach the front door of the house.
Our new home.
Grinning, Max turned and offered his hand to Ember. “Coming, wife?”
One slim leg emerged from the carriage, the cut of that lovely silver gown showing off not just the revolutionary shoes, but the trim, stocking clad ankle as well. It was a bold sort of dress to wear to a wedding, but Max loved it.
In fact, when Ember reached down to take his hand, he changed his mind about allowing her to walk into their home on her own. Instead, he stepped closer, and disregarding his fancy suit, swept her into his arms.
Ember squealed and threw her arms around his neck, but the sound quickly turned to laughter. “What are you doing, Max?”
He turned and hurried toward the front door. “I’m carrying my wife across the threshold. Then I’m carrying her up the stairs and into our bedroom, where I’m going to very carefully remove this lovely dress from her.”
She’d stopped laughing. “Oh?” she squeaked, and he shot her a wicked grin.
“Indeed. It’s a beautiful gown, full of sentimental value, and I don’t want it to be crushed.
” Her lovely eyes had gone wide at the hint of what was to come, but from the way she squirmed in his arms, she wasn’t afraid.
“I suppose I should be glad you decided not to wear the mask to our wedding,” he teased, stopping at the front door.
“I could not very well announce I was the mysterious lady at the ball, could I? My stepmother was glowering the whole time anyhow. I think she suspects.”
He dropped a kiss to her nose. “It doesn’t matter, love. After today, nothing your stepmother does should matter to you at all. She’s part of your past.”
When she sighed slightly and rested her head against his shoulder, he nodded firmly and stepped over the threshold. He hadn’t expected a fanfare, but Lysander clapped loudly.
“Bravo, you two! I arranged for the leftovers from the wedding feast to be delivered.” Grinning, he nodded toward the kitchen. “They’re waiting in the pantry. Takes a lot of energy, a wedding night does.”
For a brief moment, Max wished his arms weren’t full of his wife, so he could grasp his brother’s hand. “Thank you, Lysander. It means a lot to me that you—”
“Dinnae get mushy, brother.” Lysander’s grin grew as he swaggered toward the door. “I’m glad to ken ye too, but I’ll not further my acquaintance tonight. Good luck!”
Laughing, the other man ducked out of the house.
“Shut the door behind you!” Ember called out, and Max heard the ill-disguised laughter in her voice.
“Have fun!” Lysander hollered, before the door slammed.
Ember stifled her giggles against Max’s shoulder.
“He’s a good man,” he muttered, feeling as if he should defend his brother, even as he strode through their house.
“He is.” Ember’s fingers were playing with the curls at the base of his neck. “I hope he is not still too irritated with Tiffany.”
Better not to admit the extent of Lysander’s simmering anger, especially on their wedding night. Instead, Max merely hummed and took the stairs two at a time, anxious to get Ember to their room.
Once there, he kicked the door shut behind him and lowered her gently to the floor.
Her arms were still around his neck, so he kissed her.
It was difficult to hold back the intensity of his desire, and for the first time since she’d accepted his proposal, he didn’t feel like he had to.
His tongue delved between her lips, in mocking mimicry of what he wanted to be doing, and he smiled as he felt her match his speed.
Tonight, everything would be perfect.
Gently, he kissed her one last time, then straightened. She was staring up at him, her eyes clouded.
“Max?” she whispered, and he grinned at how dazed she sounded.
“Yes, love?”
“Have I told you how handsome you look in the Oliphant kilt?”
He grinned. “A few times, aye,” he drawled, affecting his new family’s brogue. “I can’t believe you talked me into wearing a skirt on my wedding day.”
“A skirt!” Scoffing, she smacked his chest, then began to rub it gently, and the caress went right to his cock. “You cannot live in the Highlands and call it a skirt.”
He rocked his hips forward, centering his hardness against the warmth of her core. “Lysander explained some of the handy aspects of a kilt.”
Humming interestedly, Ember slid her hands across his shoulders. “Like what?”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Easy access.”
She stifled her giggled against his lips.
But then, just as he was really getting into things, she abruptly pulled back. “Max, I want to see Tiffany and Bonnie.”
He started. “What? Now?”
Her gaze cleared, and her lips slowly curled upward.
“No, no, I am sorry. I am quite happy to be here alone with you right now.” As if to prove it, she tilted her pelvis forward, her warmth cradling his already-aching erection.
“And I am ever so grateful to your family for hosting our wedding. But after what you said about the baroness downstairs, I wanted you to know that about them.”
He was struggling to follow along, with the delightful distraction of her so warm and willing in his arms. “About them who? What?”
Still smiling, she slipped away from him, reaching up and over her shoulders to unbutton her gown. Max’s mind went blank.
“I just wanted you to know I am not putting my sisters behind me. I will happily never speak to Machara again, but Tiffany and Bonnie are still my sisters. I want them to be happy.”
Struggling to focus on what she was saying, Max forced his attention away from the bare skin that was emerging, inch by inch.
“Uh…alright. Yeah, sure.” Personally, he wasn’t certain Tiffany deserved happiness.
But at that moment, he wasn’t going to start an argument with his wife.
“Whatever will make you happy, my love.”
Abruptly, Ember turned her back to him. “It would make me happy, husband, if you would finish with these buttons. I need this gown off me.”
Max’s mouth went dry.
As he stepped up to her, she reached for the pins holding her glorious red curls in place. Of course she hadn’t worn a cap today, and although he knew she’d have to pin her hair up when she worked at Oliphant Engraving, he vowed to ask her to wear it down when she was at home.
His fingers felt overly large as he fumbled with the tiny buttons, but he was rewarded as each victory revealed more of her.
She hummed quietly and tilted her head to one side so her hair could cascade over her shoulder. The motion brought her neck tantalizingly close to his lips.
“I know you said you were worried about this gown, Max,” she murmured, “but I suspect an hour or two on this clean rug will not harm it.”
It was as clear a blessing as he was going to get. When the last button popped free, the sudden surge of joy wrenched a little cry of victory from his lips, and he pushed the gown over her shoulders and down her arms.
Before it could pool around her legs, he’d stepped forward, pressing himself against her back, so her luscious rear end cradled his hardness. As his lips dropped to a bare spot on her neck, she moaned and tilted her head to one side, giving him better access, and his hands found her corset hooks.
In a moment, that too joined the gown on the floor, and when he cupped her breasts through the thin cotton of her chemise, they both groaned in pleasure.
“Max!” she gasped, pressing herself backward against him, her arms reaching over her shoulders to twine her fingers in his hair, “I need you!”
“And I need you too, wife.” In one quick movement, he’d spun her around, and although he gasped in surprise, she didn’t hesitate to reach for the pin holding his ascot in place. The thought of her undressing him made him even more desperate to have her.
As she pulled his jacket off his shoulders, he lowered his lips to her skin once again. Her little mewling sounds had his cock pulsing against his kilt.
“Ember, are you sure you’re ready for me?” he groaned.
To his surprise, she pulled away, but only just far enough to meet his gaze. Then she took his cheeks in her palms and smiled softly.
“Maxwell Oliphant, if you do not cease blathering and make me yours this very moment, I shall be quite cross.”
His lips twitched. Who was he to argue? A happy wife meant a happy life, and he could make her happy indeed.
Ember gasped happily as his lips found one of her nipples, and her fingers suddenly completely forgot how to manage buttonholes.
Luckily, her new husband was more experienced when it came to doing two things at once, because his waistcoat and shirt soon joined her gown on the floor, although his lips didn’t stop their torment.
When his teeth grazed against her skin, she went mad, the heat pooling in her core sending her, panting, even closer to him. Her hands scrabbled at his back, trying to draw him nearer, and he chuckled drily.
“This will go faster if you trust me, love.”
He was right, but it took most of her strength to loosen her hold.
In a moment, he’d shucked his kilt and the rest of his clothes, and her chemise was floating softly toward the floor as well. She would’ve watched the graceful fall of material, had he not nudged her toward the bed with a growl.
As she fell backward, he caught her and rolled, until she was pinning him atop the mattress.
It was an odd position, but quite conducive to touching him, which was exactly what she wanted to do.
In between kisses and whispered words of love, she explored his body, pausing to marvel at each new wonder revealed. His skin was lighter below his collar, but just as hard as she’d imagined…while being delightfully smooth as well.
He allowed the exploration for as long as he could, his hands curled into fists at his side, until he gave in with a growl and rolled her to one side so he could touch her.
And as nice as that moment had been, she decided she liked this part even better.
He kissed, he stroked, he licked, his fingers working their magic on her. And when his hand reached the junction of her thighs, and the pad of his thumb brushed against her hidden bud, she moaned in gratitude and wrapped one leg around his, to give him better access.
In the weeks since he’d proposed, they’d snuck away to be together often. She’d moved her things into his house and helped him decorate, when they weren’t both busy at the factory. But no matter how often they’d explored the passion between them, he’d always held a part of himself back.
But now that they were married, he was truly hers.
Ember knew she was wet and aching, ready for him…
but his fingers managed to drive her higher and higher, until she was breathless with need.
Or perhaps that was because of what his lips were doing to her neck…
Either way, she could feel herself squeezing around him, inching closer and closer to the release she desperately craved.
Then he rolled again, pulling her with him as he moved onto his back. With his hands on her hips, he settled her atop his thighs, and she knew what she needed to do. Grasping his hard length, she positioned herself above him…
And sheathed herself around him.
He shuddered out a groan, and Ember’s core immediately squeezed in response.
Yes.
Max knew what to do. He always did.
With soft murmurs, he began to move, flexing himself in and out of her wetness.
Soon, she’d dropped her hands to his shoulders, holding onto him as each gentle thrust pressed against her insides in the most delightful way.
In no time, her pleasure had her spiraling higher again, reaching, gasping, aching.
His speed increased, and she heard his breaths coming in jolting gasps.
“Ember, I need…”
When he trailed off in a groan, she smiled, her gaze fixed on his. “Yes, love. I do too.”
It was the correct thing to say, because one of his hands moved to find her pearl, hidden in red curls, as he pumped into her. And when his thumb pressed against it, she exploded.
Her pleasure burst over her, squeezing at him as she gasped. She felt him thrust once more, and then a rush of warm liquid flooded her womb, and he groaned out her name.
“Ember!”
She flexed her hips again and again, trying to prolong the pleasure, and she did. But eventually she had to collapse, panting, against his chest.
His heart beat strongly alongside her cheek, and she smiled when his arms wrapped around her.
He was hers now, and she was his.
“Thank you, wife,” he finally whispered against her hair.
Surprised, she levered herself upright, and felt him slide from her. “Thank you,” she corrected, shifting to one side so she could stretch out beside him. “That was remarkable.”
He chuckled softly. “Nah. You’re the remarkable one, wife. I still can’t believe I talked you into being mine for the rest of my life.”
She inhaled slowly and cupped his cheek. With their noses only inches apart, she tried to make him understand how much she loved him.
“Max, I married you because you are a good man, and you are making all my dreams come true. Our pasts do not matter.”
He managed to nod, despite her hold on him. “Our pasts don’t matter. I’m not a prince, nor a cowboy. You’re not a lady, nor a drudge.” Slowly, he grinned. “Only our future matters, and we’re going to work together to make it a happy one.”
Her smile grew until it was near blinding. “I love you, Max.”
“I love you too, Ember.”
“Excellent.” She pulled him closer, and as his arms tightened around her, she wondered how long they had to wait until she could show him.
“Kiss me, husband. I am ready to be yours. Forever.”
Forever.