Epilogue
A FEW MONTHS LATER
Happiness, Sorcha discovered, could be found in anything. It could be found on the snow blanketing the earth. Soft, breathless, and terrifying in its beauty.
The chapel bells had rung earlier in the morning. She remembered it all. Remembered the white ribbons that had adorned the pillars and pews. How the morning air had smelled of winter and something sweeter—hope.
The morning was special because she had gotten married to William.
The memory flashed through her mind.
The MacLean sisters had giggled behind their gloved hands, unable to contain their mirth. Avery’s eyes had gleamed with mischief as she leaned in to whisper to Rhea, while Poppy had pretended not to listen at all.
And then there was William. He had stood beside her, his eyes glimmering with emotions he couldn’t hide. After the priest had pronounced them man and wife, he had kissed her deeply. Right in front of the whole clan, he had claimed her lips unapologetically, his hands steady on her waist.
Applause had followed. Laughter. Joy had rung louder than the bells themselves.
I do.
She had said those words.
It had been a wedding born of love and not fear. It had felt like the first time her life truly belonged to her. She had finally put the past behind her, burning it to ashes. Gregor’s execution the day before had only sealed it.
She was starting anew, something so close to a fairytale.
Now, she stood in the center of her chamber, in her wedding gown. Her fingers traced the silk idly.
The gown was perfect, hugging her curves as though it had been made for her alone. Wearing it had made her feel like the girl she had once dreamed of becoming.
Reluctantly, she walked toward the bathing chamber. The scent of herbs and steam filled the air, replacing the winter chill.
William was inside. No, her husband was inside, waiting for her.
The thought made her smile.
As though he had heard it, he appeared in the doorway. Naked.
Completely, gloriously naked.
Sorcha’s breath caught in her throat. No matter how many times she saw him, she would always react the same way.
Broad shoulders, strong chest, dark hair. Her eyes slipped to the deep V between his hips. Every inch of him was carved like something divine.
His brown eyes locked on hers, before his mouth curved wickedly. Her knees immediately weakened.
“What? Ye’re nay longer shy?” she managed, her cheeks burning even as she took him in.
He took one lazy step closer, then another, until the heat of him wrapped around her.
“For taking a bath?” His tone was teasing. “Or for standing naked in front of me beloved wife?”
Beloved wife.
The words landed straight through her heart.
His hands found the laces of her gown before she could even answer him. With deliberate care, he began to undo them, pulling the gown loose. Until it pooled at her feet, baring her to his hungry gaze.
Instantly, she melted into him, letting him touch her.
His hands slid over her waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on her skin.
“I fell in love with ye all over again when ye walked down the aisle, Sorcha,” he murmured.
The way he always said her name always stole her breath, even after all this time.
She looked up at him, watching as his gaze roamed over her body. His eyes had darkened, tracing every inch of her skin as though he couldn’t decide which part to devour first.
She stepped closer until her breasts pressed against his hard chest, and the delicious friction made her nipples pebble.
Slowly, she rose on her tiptoes. Holding him for support, she brushed her lips along the line of his jaw.
“Seems like ye want to skip the bath,” she whispered.
His length throbbed against her belly, and he growled, making her inner walls flutter with need. “That’s exactly what’s on me mind, actually.”
His smile came slowly, devastatingly handsome. She knew he would never be able to resist her.
“Ye ken I cannae resist ye.”
The words were barely out when his mouth found hers. The kiss was gentle, but it deepened fast, turning hungry, messy, wet.
Their tongues dueled sensually, devouring each other with the same devotion they had promised in the chapel hours ago. His hands roamed down her back, her sides, cupping her bottom to pull her tight against him until not even air could slip between them.
Before she knew it, he had lifted her as though she weighed nothing.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him. She could feel every inch of his hardness pressing right where she ached most.
He lowered her onto the wide bed, still adorned with rose petals and white ribbons from the ceremony. Then he bent his head to suck on the crook of her neck, coaxing loud moans from her lips.
His lips trailed lower, kissing a path from her collarbone to her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked on it like he was starved, his hands squeezing and kneading her mounds.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she slowly rocked her hips against his. She wanted him inside her, needed him more than air. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, silently conveying her need.
She breathed against his ear, “It’s lovely… always lovely to think that though ye’re me fourth husband… yet ye’re the only man who’s ever claimed me. Touched me.”
Though William already knew that, her words made him stop. He lifted his head, his gaze finding hers. He gave her a smile, something so small yet so fierce.
“I will worship every part of ye. Yer body, yer heart, yer soul, till me very last breath.”
Her lips parted with a shuddering breath.
At that moment, he moved between her thighs and slowly guided himself to her entrance. Sorcha moaned loudly as he slid inside her. Her thighs opened wider, giving him better access.
She whimpered as he stretched her, loving the fullness.
She loved every inch of him—his soul, his heart, his body. There could be no greater explanation for true love.
She cupped his face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And I will love ye till me very last breath.”
The End?