Chapter 24 #2
They rode for hours, the Highland hills rolling wider and wilder as they went.
By the time the sun began its slow descent, painting the world in gold, Ava spied a castle on the edge of a loch, its grey stone softened by ivy and time.
The castle rose against the water like something from a storybook, a place built for secrets and seclusion.
“Is it yours?” she breathed.
He nodded. “Ours. My parents rarely used it, but I’ve kept it. It’s… quiet.”
Private, she heard in the word he didn’t say. The perfect place for a honeymoon.
When the carriage rumbled across the narrow bridge to the gates, Ava couldn’t stop the thrill that fluttered in her chest. This wasn’t for guests or gossip. This wasn’t for the Season or for appearances. This was for them.
The staff had been kept minimal, just enough to prepare rooms and light the fires, so when Gavan helped her down from the carriage, the courtyard was still, the loch reflecting the last threads of daylight behind the turrets.
“’Tis beautiful,” she said softly.
“’Tis yours now,” he replied, offering his arm.
Inside, the castle smelled faintly of woodsmoke, the old stone halls warmed by well-tended fires. Ava’s slippers whispered over rugs older than either of them as Gavan led her through a warren of corridors until they reached a chamber overlooking the loch.
“The laird and lady’s chamber,” he said, pausing at the threshold.
Ava stepped inside, her breath catching. The room was simple but lovely, a great canopied bed draped in cream linens and a tartan coverlet, tall windows framing the glimmering water, a hearth crackling in welcome. A vase of wildflowers brightened the mantel.
“Gavan,” she said, turning back to him. “Oh, I love it.”
He looked almost shy at that, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want ye to be happy.”
The way he said it, the quiet earnestness, the weight of all they’d been through to get here, made her chest ache. “I am more than happy.” And she sealed that statement with a kiss before her stomach grumbled loudly. “I suppose I should have eaten my breakfast.”
“We’ve plenty here.”
They dined simply in the old great hall, venison stew, fresh bread, a surprisingly good wine from Gavan’s stores. He kept close to her, his hand brushing hers on the table, his gaze lingering longer than was proper. But then, propriety had no place here.
When the meal ended, he stood, extending his hand. “Come,” he said.
“To where?”
His smile curved, soft, sure, devastating. “Wherever ye want.”
She followed him through the castle until they emerged onto a narrow balcony overlooking the loch. The night had deepened, the water black and glimmering beneath a sky dusted with stars. The Highland air was cool against her skin, but Gavan’s presence at her back was all the warmth she needed.
“This is perfect,” she whispered.
“It’s only perfect because ye’re here,” he said, his breath stirring her hair.
Her heart hammered. This was the Gavan who could still undo her with a few quiet words. The one who made her feel seen, chosen, not just as a hostess or a matchmaker or a name in the county books, but as Ava. His.
He turned her toward him, his hands settling at her waist. “Do ye know,” he murmured, “how long I’ve wanted this? No’ just a kiss, no’ just a dance, but ye. All of ye. Your laughter. Your temper. Every sharp edge and soft place ye’ve tried to hide.”
She swallowed hard, unable to find words.
“I dinna just want to love ye,” he said, voice rougher now. “I want to be the man who earns that love back every day of our lives.”
The world seemed to tilt, the stars and loch and stone dissolving until there was only him.
“Then ye’d better kiss me,” she whispered, her voice unsteady.
And Gavan did.
It wasn’t careful, not this time. It was hungry, aching, making her knees go weak and her fingers clutch at his shoulders.
His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, the taste of him dizzying, like wine and promises she’d never known she wanted until this moment.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, she laughed, a soft, giddy sound she couldn’t hold in. “Ye take my breath away, husband.”
His answering smile was wicked and tender all at once. “I hope so.”
The night stretched before them, full of possibility, and for the first time in her life, Ava wanted nothing more than to be ravaged by the man who had once been her greatest frustration and had somehow become her perfect match.
They didn’t go back inside right away.
For a long moment, they stood on the balcony, the night air cool against their flushed skin, foreheads pressed together as though the world could not intrude.
But eventually, Gavan took her hand, not with ceremony, but with the quiet, steady certainty that had always been his way, and led her back into the castle.
Her heart thundered as they crossed the threshold of the bedchamber. This wasn’t the soft glow of candlelit waltzes or teasing glances over a crowded room. This was real. Just the two of them. No crowd. No masks.
He closed the door with a quiet finality and turned back to her. For a moment, neither of them moved. He simply watched her with a hunger in his eyes that matched the desire flooding her veins.
“Ava.” Her name on his tongue was low, gravelly. He crooked his finger at her, a slight hitch of sensual promise in his smile.
Ava stepped toward him, fingers brushing the lapel of his coat, and leaned up on tiptoe, ready for more than just a kiss this time.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, deep and raw. She answered in kind, meeting him with all the longing she’d kept buried for years.
Her hands slid to his shoulders, then lower, fingers tugging at the knot of his cravat, breathing in his spicy scent. Gavan stood still as she undid him piece by piece, the cravat, the coat, the waistcoat, each layer discarded until she could finally feel the warmth of him through his linen shirt.
When his hands dropped to her waist, gathering the fabric of her gown, she gasped in surprise and delight, “Gavan—”
“Do ye want me to stop?” he murmured against her mouth.
She shook her head, breathless. “Nay, dinna ye dare.”
His answering growl vibrated through her as his hands skimmed up her sides, deftly finding the hidden fastenings of her gown. He took his time, easing her out of the silk until it puddled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her shift and corset.
“Ye’re… beautiful,” he said, the word almost reverent.
She laughed softly, nerves skittering through her like sparks. “Ye’ve seen me in dozens of gowns and yet it is my state of undress that has ye speechless?”
Gavan grinned, tracing the edge of her stays with his thumb. “I think I should like ye to remain undressed forever.”
Her pulse kicked at the possessive note in his voice, her skin prickling as she tugged at the laces of her corset, suddenly wanting more than anything to be fully nude with her husband.
“Let me,” he said quietly.
She nodded, raising her arms as he loosened the garment, careful even in his hunger. When at last it fell away, cool air soothed her bare, heated skin, and then his hands, warm and steady, grounded her in the storm of sensation.
“Gavan,” she whispered, not sure if it was a plea.
He kissed her again, slower this time, his hands roaming with deliberate care, as if mapping every inch of her. When they reached the bed, he eased her down onto the soft linens, bracing himself above her.
For a moment, he just looked at her, his dark eyes drinking her in. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said hoarsely.
“So have I,” she admitted, her hand sliding up his neck, tangling in his hair.
At that, the last of his restraint shattered.
He kissed her like a man starved, like every moment they’d wasted apart had been leading to this one. She arched against him, gasping at the feel of his body pressing her down into the mattress, the solid weight of him a reassurance she hadn’t known she craved.
When his mouth left hers to trail down her neck, Ava clutched at his shirt, desperate to feel him, more of him.
He obliged, pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, and her breath caught at the sight of him.
Broad-shouldered. Scarred in places she hadn’t known. Every inch of him solid and real.
“Yours,” he murmured, as though reading her thoughts.
She dragged her fingertips lightly down his chest. “Aye, mine. And I’m yours.”
Gavan groaned when she pulled him back down to her.
There were no more words after that, only touch and sound, the rustle of linen, the soft catch of her breath when his hands found places no one else had touched, the low rumble of his voice murmuring her name over and over as he stoked the flames of passion and pleasure within her.
With Gavan’s mouth sliding over hers, his palm inched over her ribs until he was cupping her breast, his thumb rubbing with tantalizing ease back and forth over her nipple and sending sparks of raw pleasure rushing through her limbs.
Ava gasped, shocked at the sensations that spiraled from her breast to the center of her body, between her thighs.
She felt incredibly delicious, nervous, and curious.
She threaded her hands through his hair, and Gavan continued exploring her breasts while his lips slid over hers again and again.
She squirmed against him, wanting, needing more.
Gavan kissed a path down her neck, and she wriggled even more, her fingers running from his hair over his bare and solid shoulders.
Lower still he traveled, and then suddenly his lips hovered over her breast, and his tongue flicked out over her taut nipple.
As she felt the heat of his velvet tongue on her skin, she nearly bucked off the bed.