Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Mornings in Glen Carrick had never felt as warm as they did in Lachlan’s bed.
Marian blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the pale morning light that filtered in through the narrow window. Her body was wrapped in the giant human blanket that was Lachlan. His chest rose and fell steadily under her cheek, and his arm rested softly around her waist.
She smiled, feeling a gentle throb in her head as memories of last night came rushing back.
Her cheeks flushed as she looked at him, taking in his dark, thick lashes. She gingerly lifted her fingers to touch them when his eyes fluttered open. Her hand froze midair.
“Ye’re awake,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. He shifted slightly beneath her, his hand moving to stroke her hair with gentle laziness.
Marian hummed, stretching as much as she could with his arm around her waist. She made a funny sound, and his chest shook with soft laughter.
“How do ye feel?” he asked.
Marian considered the question for a moment.
Her ribs ached. The wound at her temple throbbed dully. Her wrists were still tender where the twine had bitten into her skin. But above all of that, her body tingled with the afterglow of last night.
There was a pleasant soreness between her thighs that made her cheeks warm every time she shifted. Her muscles felt loose and heavy, like she’d been wrung out and put back together in a new shape entirely.
She felt different.
“I feel good,” she breathed.
Lachlan squeezed her softly. “Good. I feel the same.”
She tilted her head back just enough to look up at him. His dark hair was disheveled, falling onto his forehead, making him look younger. Less like the fearsome Laird and more like… just a man.
My man.
The thought made her heart flutter.
“What’s on yer mind?” Lachlan asked, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone.
“You,” Marian said honestly.
His lips curled into a small smile. “Aye? And what about me?”
“That you’re…” She paused, searching for the right words. “Different from what I expected.”
“Different how?”
“Gentler,” she replied. “When we first met, I thought you were the most stubborn, infuriating man I’d ever encountered.”
“And now?”
“Now, I know you’re the most stubborn, infuriating man I’ve ever encountered,” she said, her lips twitching. “But you’re also kind. And protective. And…”
“And…?” His tone was flat, but she could see through him. He was enjoying this.
She let out a small, breathless laugh.
He propped himself up slightly, looking down at her with raised eyebrows. “What’s funny, Sassenach?”
“I just…” She shook her head, still smiling. “I never imagined my first time would be in a Highland castle, with a warrior who proposed to me over a dead body.”
Lachlan’s lips twitched. “Are ye sayin’ ye didnae enjoy it?” he asked. “Yer first time?”
Marian’s face instantly turned a shade of red.
Lachlan leaned back down. “Have ye lost yer tongue?”
Marian looked at him. She had no intention of answering his question, but she enjoyed the smug look on his face.
“How did you get that scar?” she asked, pointing to his forehead.
He clicked his tongue. “Nay.” He slid a hand under his head. “I am nae tellin’ all me secrets to an English lass.”
Marian frowned, feigning annoyance. “Well, I may soon have one myself, Highlander,” she said, pointing at the wound on her temple. “Do you think it’ll make a fine scar?”
Lachlan sprang up immediately, a deep frown twisting his face. “I’ll kill Edmund twice,” he sneered, his jaw tightening as though the scar had already formed.
Marian burst into soft laughter, tapping his chest gently, and soon he was smiling again. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her temple.
When they finally settled back in bed, Marian placed her head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart. The fire had burned down to embers overnight, but the room was still warm. Comfortable.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Lachlan shifted slightly, looking down at her.
“Ye didnae answer me question yet,” he murmured.
Marian immediately knew what he was talking about. She stayed quiet for a moment, though she did not have to think about it. She already had her answer.
“Will I be able to arrange breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper properly now?”
“Ach, Mairi,” he sighed, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “’Tis yer castle now. Do as ye wish.”
“Will you have breakfast with me every morning?”
Lachlan grunted, and she giggled.
“I shall try,” he relented.
She folded her arms, pretending to think about it. “Ye can skip breakfast twice every fortnight,” she allowed, trying not to laugh. “But no more oats.”
Lachlan looked at her, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine concern. “Nay more oats?”
Marian rolled her eyes. “Seriously,” she said, lifting her head to look at him properly. “What is it with you and oats? You Highlanders find a way to add it to all meals.”
“What is wrong with oats?”
“Oats are boring,” Marian started. “And tasteless. And the texture is—”
“The texture isnae the point,” Lachlan interrupted. “The point is that they’re fillin’, and ye can make them quickly—”
“And they’re terrible,” Marian finished. “You cannot deny it. You only eat them because they are simple to make.”
“But ye like bannocks,” Lachlan pointed out. “I even remember ye chasin’ the cat all over the castle for it.”
Marian fell quiet, admitting partial defeat.
“Fine, you have a point,” she said, and his lips curved slightly. “Only oat porridge.”
His smile faltered, and he released an exasperated sigh.
Marian let out a small laugh, satisfied.
They fell into comfortable silence again. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his skin, while his hand gently stroked her hair.
It was peaceful. Perfect. Everything she’d never known she wanted.
“Lachlan,” she said quietly.
“Aye?”
“Mo chridhe, what does it mean?”
He released a breath, his hand coming up to her side. “I cannae tell ye, Mairi,” he said solemnly, as though it were a real bother. “Ye’ll have to learn Gaelic properly.”
Marian huffed, exhaling loudly.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” he added.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, will you stop that already?”
“Mairi…” He drew out her name, but she was no longer listening.
“What did you say?” she demanded, almost sitting up now.
“I love ye.”
She blinked, the word catching her off guard. Her mouth went dry.
“I love ye, Marian,” he repeated, smiling softly at her as though he had not just made the biggest confession ever.