Tiny chill bumps sprang up along the path he traced down her sides, his fingers so delicate, his touch feeling as if it rippled along her skin. From her breasts down to her stomach and back up again his hands skimmed along, igniting a pulse in her body that she felt to her toes.
His fingers traced the contour of her nipples, and she watched them pucker and harden as she felt her breasts grow heavy. It was as if the little circles he drew had the magic to change the very makeup of her body.
“I could look at you forever,” he whispered, his eyes dark with his need.
Grasping her waist, he turned her and lifted her at the same time, sitting her up on the countertop facing him.
The mirror must have lost its fascination for him because he stared into her eyes as he slid his hands under her bottom and pulled her toward him. The movement spread her legs apart and he fit himself into that opening.
The cold smooth stone beneath her bottom was a stark contrast to his heat pressing into her, and when he took her breast into his mouth, a magnificent pressure burst through her body, demanding more.
She wrapped her legs behind his back and pressed against him.
A noise sounded from somewhere low in his throat, part chuckle, part growl. As if her movement was all he’d waited for, he grasped her hips and drove into her, pulling her forward to meet each of his thrusts.
When her release came, it felt as though every muscle in her body spasmed it’s delight in unison. His release came almost immediately after, filling her as he clutched her body to his.
Her legs had become too heavy to hold up so she lowered them and they leaned there together, his head on her shoulder, each of them panting as if somewhere along the way they’d forgotten to breathe for several minutes.
“Nothing,” she managed to say at last. “Nothing could be more wonderful than that.”
He grinned, his manly pride obviously well pleased, and lifted her off the countertop and to her feet.
“As they say in this time, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.”
Leading her to the clear box in the corner, he pulled open the door and turned a handle, sending water spraying out.
She didn’t realize her mouth hung open until he dipped his head down for a kiss, darting his tongue into the opening.
“It’s called a shower, and the water is hot whenever you want it.”
She stepped inside and stood under the flow, warm water cascading onto her shoulders and down over her body. Surely this was heaven.
Or it was when he joined her under the spray of the water.
“You think yer going to like yer new home?” he asked, pulling her close to nibble on her earlobe.
“Without a doubt,” she breathed, all but losing her train of thought. “This is what I would call the perfect home.”
“Yeah?” He lifted his head and grinned at her. “It’s what I’d call the perfect homecoming.”
Home. Their home. Together.
He chuckled as he dipped his head for another kiss. “If yer sold on it now, just wait till you meet my dog.”
Epilogue
1293
“You believe the man?”
Malcolm MacDowylt strode down the dark hallway at his brother’s side. It was a legitimate question that Patrick posed.
“I do. The MacQuarries sent him with the message. They’d have no reason to tell us a falsehood and the rider says he looked upon the graves with his own two eyes.”
It saddened him to hear of Isabella’s death. And the warrior who had been her self-appointed guardian. Though their presence had been naught but a hindrance to him, he’d hoped that in engineering their escape he’d given them a chance for long life together. Apparently the injuries the warrior had suffered at the hands of Lardiner had been too great for him to survive.
“The lad as well?” Patrick’s question brought him back to the present.
