“Kiss your wife! Kiss your wife!”
The call went up, largely driven by Ian and Rob, but happily taken up by the others in the room.
Niall groaned inwardly. He’d forgotten about this, all the teasing that newlyweds went through for the first few weeks, all the toasts and calls to kiss the bride at dinners and whatnot.
Now, Heather was looking up at him with a slightly alarmed expression. “I think we have to kiss,” she whispered, putting her drink down.
“Aye, I’m afraid so.” He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the mouth, knowing that a mere peck on the cheek wouldn’t assuage his annoying family.
Heather accepted the kiss. Her mouth was the sweetest thing in the world, her lips deliciously smooth and yielding. Was that the mead? Or was there something else, possibly the way those same lips could snap out lines that sent the MacNair—the old man himself!—fleeing for the safety of his lair.
Niall loved the way she stood up for herself, the way she fit right in at Carregness. She was perfect, perfect in his arms, her mouth perfectly molded to his…
Wolf whistles and cheers echoed around the hall. As he pulled away, all Niall saw was Heather’s wide, stunned eyes.
He hadn’t meant the kiss to last as long as it did. But his body had several other ideas once his mouth touched hers, and in truth, she’d responded in a way that made him think she liked the kiss too.
Dinner resumed, and the chatter increased. Heather remained beside him, still smiling and laughing at the various comments around the table, though he was on edge now, recalling the feel of her lips against his.
Heather giggled at one of Robert’s stupid comments (not a particularly funny one either). Niall noted how she placed her glass carefully—too carefully—down on the table. Had the mead got to her already? She couldn’t have had more than two servings.
“Heather,” he said.
She whipped her head around to meet his eyes, and yes, the signs were there. Heightened color in her cheeks, that slightly unfocused expression in the deep brown eyes. If he didn’t get her out of there, she might make a scene, and that would not be something she’d live down easily.
He stood up. “I think it’s time to retire.”
Ian looked over, confused. “But it’s early…”
Rob threw a roll at him. “You eejit.”
Maeve began to push away from the table. “Why don’t I walk Heather upstairs? The castle must still be confusing for you, dear…”
But Niall was already helping Heather up, disguising her unusual clumsiness with his own exaggerated actions, making the display funny.
“The eager bridegroom,” Brenna noted, with cool amusement. “We must not begrudge our newlyweds their evening.”
“Suppose not,” Ian agreed, now with a wink.
Niall got Heather on her feet. She was steady enough, and he decided that no one else had noticed anything odd about her behavior.
“Do we have to leave? I was having fun,” Heather whispered to him as he escorted her out of the great hall.
“I’m glad, but yes, it’s time to leave. You may have had a little too much fun…if you take me meaning.”
“I don’t take your anything,” she protested. “And certainly not your meaning, because you’re not mean.”
“You’re not making sense, Heather,” he said as she steered her up the stairs. She stumbled slightly, and he decided it would be easier to carry her. He scooped her up in his arms, and she gave a little squeak of surprise when she found herself parallel to the floor.
“Niall,” she said breathlessly, her face suddenly very close to his. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to your room.”
“Oh, my goodness, is that wise?”
Very probably not, but what could he do?
When he reached her door, he carried her through it. The room was lit by a low fire and a single candle on the desk.
