Page 65 of Return to Wildsyde

“Oh!” Luella exclaimed, pressing a hand to her mouth as a bubble of laughter escaped her. “Oh, how sweet. He’s beside himself to know he has a home and family, Lyall. You have made us both so very happy.”

“Then perhaps ye will forgive me if I take ye away from all this merriment. I dinnae want to share ye for another second, Luella.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said earnestly. “I have been waiting impatiently for you to ask me all evening.”

He laughed at that, delighted by her, and with a quick glance around, took her hand, hurrying her out of the room before anyone noticed. Lyall was grateful the castle was large and the walls thick as the sounds of celebration dulled to a quiet murmur as he led her up the stairs and along the corridor to his own room. When he finally closed the door, it was quiet, and all he could hear was the anticipatory thud of his own heart.

Luella walked in, looking around with interest. He felt a surge of possessive pride upon seeing his beautiful wife in his room. His body stirred as she moved to the bed, one hand resting on the heavy oak post as she laid the other on the blue-and-green tartan blanket folded across the end of the covers.

“I’d like a dress made in the colours of your tartan,” she said, turning to glance shyly at him. “Would you mind?”

“Mind?” he said, laughter behind the word. “Do ye still nae ken what it did to me, seeing ye wearing that pretty green dress, trimmed with my colours?”

She shook her head, interest glimmering in her eyes.

“Nae,” he said with a huff of amusement. “Ma knew though, I reckon. She says I am like my Da, so she’d gauged that just perfectly to make me lose my wits. Well, then, just so ye know. I love seeing ye wearing my tartan, Luella. I want the world to know ye belong with me, not because I own ye or anything crass like that, but because ye are a part of me, as I hope, I am a part of ye. Ye ken?”

She nodded, her eyes bright with emotion and he crossed the room, gathering her in his arms.

“Ouch!” she exclaimed, as the hilt of his sword jabbed at her.

He moved away, his expression rueful. “Curse the thing. Excuse me a moment, I had best get rid of some of this getup.”

Luella sat on the edge of the bed, more than content to watch her handsome husband disrobe. He unbuckled the sword and set it aside, before removing the sgian-dubh and unpinning the large brooch on his shoulder. Fascinated, Luella watched as the layers were set aside one by one, until he stood before her in only his shirt and kilt, looking not a whit less impressive for having shed his finery.

“That’s better,” he said with a sigh. “Now then, lass, it’s time for ye to do likewise.”

Luella knew she ought to look suitably bashful at this point, but she didn’t have the patience for it. She wanted to love her husband and show him exactly how she felt, and she did not see why she should hide that from him. So she leapt up from the bed and turned, gesturing to the fastenings.

“Undo me then, please,” she demanded, glancing over her shoulder to find him grinning at her.

His hands settled upon the fastenings and Luella held her breath as the dress loosened, eager for the moment she could cast it aside. Soon enough, it was all undone, and she stepped out of it. Lyall lay it over a chair as she turned her attention to her petticoats, her fingers none too steady as she untied them one by one, kicking each aside in turn until she was left in her corset, shift, and drawers.

Lyall turned her once more, tugging at the corset ties as Luella’s heart hammered with increasing urgency against her ribs. She closed her eyes on a gasp as his breath fluttered warm against the nape of her neck and he pressed his mouth there, kissing her softly. A murmur of sound escaped her as he nuzzled the tender spot beneath her ear, kissing her neck and trailing his mouth down to the spot where it curved into her shoulder. Finally, the corset sagged and fell to the floor, and his large hands circled her waist.

Luella leaned into him, feeling a solid wall of warmth at her back. “At last,” she said on a breath of laughter.

She felt rather than heard the rumble of amusement he gave as his hands glided up and up to cup her breasts. He sighed then, a gust of warm air ruffling her hair.

“At last,” he repeated, with such emphasis that she snorted and turned in his arms, coiling her arms about his neck.

“Have I told you I love you?” she asked, hardly able to believe life could be so kind after so many years of struggle and wanting.

“Aye, lass, several times, though I reckon I can stand to hear it again,” he said, staring down at her with such an expression of adoration in his eyes that her heart could hardly contain the happiness she felt.

“Then I love you, Lyall Anderson. With all my heart, and I shall do everything I can to make you happy, and never regret your decision for a moment.”

“I never could,” he said, his expression fierce as he kissed her.

Luella sighed, sinking into the kiss as his hands roved over her, exploring and caressing, until he broke away, reaching for her chemise. “Take it off. I want to touch ye.”

Luella obeyed him, tugging the chemise over her head and then, with a shy glance at him, pushing her lacy drawers to the floor and hurrying to the bed. She laughed, tugging the covers over her as he watched in consternation.

“That’s nae fair.”

“All’s fair in love and war. Now, hurry. Your wife is cold,” she said impatiently, though it was a lie. The bed had been warmed for them, despite the heat of a summer’s day shining down on the castle. The heat did not penetrate the thick stone walls to any great extent, but it was not cold that made her skin prickle, rather anticipation as she watched Lyall tug the shirt over his head and cast it aside, and then unbuckle his kilt.

“Ye are nae gonna faint, are ye?” he asked dubiously, as the heavy tartan fell in a heap on the floor.