Chapter Thirty-Six
“A toast, to Mairi Euphramia MacLennan!”
“Mairi Euphramia MacLennan!”
The company lifted their glasses as Iona stood beside Brodie, who cradled the baby in his arms.
“Not like that, Brodie,” Iona snapped. “Ye mustn’t let her head fall back. Mia said so. Here—like this.”
“Ye show me, then, Iona.”
Iona rolled her eyes, then placed her hand over Brodie’s. The two of them colored, and Mia exchanged a smile with Hamish as the lovesick young man tended to baby Mairi as if she were his own.
And perhaps, one day, she would be.
Rory rose to his feet, Maisie at his side, her face flushed with wine and pleasure. “And a toast to Laird and Lady MacLennan, who affirmed their vows today!”
“Laird and Lady MacLennan!”
A cheer rose as Mia found herself swept into her husband’s arms.
“Hamish, what are you—”
“Och, woman, surely ye ken what I’m about on the night we celebrate our union? Do ye want me to toss ye over my shoulder like the beast that I am and claim me in my lair?”
Sweet heaven! His words, crude and base though they were, stirred such unholy sensations in her belly as to be most scandalous. But as she turned to glance at the minister, she saw Reverend Sutherland, wine glass in hand, grinning from ear to ear.
“He’ll not mind,” her husband said. “Did ye not hear him preach about the duties of a husband and wife and how the sanctity of marriage must be celebrated and worshipped? I cannae think of a better way to worship ye than to spread those pretty thighs and—”
“Hamish!” Mia cried, as Rory let out a deep belly laugh.
“Och, Master Hamish, I’ll wager ye’ll hear yer name coming from yer woman’s lips as she’s coming apart in yer bed.”
“Rory!” Maisie said, slapping his arm. “Ye shouldnae say such things to Master Hamish.”
“Och, lass, dinnae worry—ye’ll be getting the same attention from yer man tonight.” Rory turned to the minister. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Reverend Sutherland, but when a man’s about to wed this fine creature here, it’s a sin to leave her be before I make an honest woman of her.”
“Ye mean when I make an honest man of ye, Rory,” Maisie said.
Amid the cheers, Mia’s husband carried her out of the great hall, then he broke into a run as he made his way to their bedchamber.
As soon as he set her on the bed, he shed his plaid while she unlaced her gown until he stood before her, his naked form gleaming in the light of the fire.
Her gaze wandered over the planes of his muscles, the arms and legs that looked as if they had been sculpted from marble, the soft, downy chest hair that grew denser lower down—and his thick manhood, ready and eager for her, that bobbed as he approached the bed.
Since he’d declared his love, Hamish had brought her to pleasure with his hands and mouth almost every night—and several afternoons, when he’d slipped into her parlor to pleasure her against the wall, taken her against a tree in the forest, eliciting all manner of sensations as she writhed at his touch, the bark digging into her back.
Last night he’d parted her thighs at the dining table at supper to slip his accomplished fingers inside her while she tried—in vain—not to spill her stew.
Then he’d lifted her onto the table, swept the stew aside, and feasted on her. But tonight…
Tonight he would give her his all—the part of him that beckoned to her as she licked her lips in anticipation of tasting him as he had tasted her.
“Does my wife like what she sees?” he teased.
“Yes.”
“And does she forgive me for being a rutting beast?”
“I find I relish having such a man for a husband.”
“I can be gentle also, lass,” he said, “though I fear tonight I’ll not be able to restrain the wild stag within me. I’ve been hungry all day—hungry to bury myself inside ye.”
“Then claim your female,” Mia said, parting her thighs. The brief pulse of shame at her wantonness dispersed as she caught the exultation in his eyes. What could be more glorious than to give pleasure to her man, whom she loved above all?
He crawled onto the bed, his muscles rippling, and the familiar sensation of heat pooled in her center. Then, with a swift movement that belied his big body, he speared her with a single, hard thrust.
“Oh!” Mia cried out as her mind shattered with pleasure. Then her body followed, rippling through her center, sending waves of ecstasy through her. So unlike the pleasure at his touch, the pleasure from having him deep inside her was almost unbearable in its deliciousness. “Hamish!”
At her cry, he came to pleasure, her name on his lips, and writhed on top of her, claiming her mouth as thoroughly as he claimed her body while she wrapped her legs about his waist to draw him deeper in.
At length, he grew quiet, still inside her, then he brushed his lips against her breasts, pausing to kiss each nipple, igniting a tiny fizz of pleasure. He placed his head on her chest and let out a deep sigh.
“If only I could spend the rest of my life here,” he whispered, “with ye in my bed, and my cock inside ye, where he can serve ye best.”
Her body pulsed and he smiled.
“Ah, my woman enjoys it when I speak like a beast. I can feel ye’re eager to take him again.”
“Am I such a wanton, Hamish?”
“Ye’re my wanton. And I wouldnae have ye any other way. Ye’d have been wasted had ye returned to yer Sassenach dandies. Would they have given ye such pleasure as I can?”
He began to withdraw and she arched her back, her body recognizing, instinctively, its need for him. His eyes gleamed with wickedness and he slipped inside her once more.
“I’ll take that as a no, lass—as a confession that only I can give ye the pleasure ye deserve.”
They lay together listening to the crackle of the fireplace and the distant sound of merriment as the company continued to celebrate their union—a union they had forged as strangers then reaffirmed as unlikeliest of lovers—the Highland Beast and the Ghost of the Ton.