Page 42 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

Ellen curled into him to hide her smile, and he kissed her head.

“I’d say we should go meet our guests for dinner, but they’ll be fine on their own, I’m sure,” he said shyly, and Ellen liked watching his lips move, and his tongue behind his teeth, and a flush seized her whole body, recalling what those lips and tongue had just done.

Then his stomach gave a mighty growl, and he fought to keep his face impassive—and failed the moment Ellen burst into a fit of giggles.

“Traitor,” he murmured to his stomach, casting his eyes towards the ceiling.

Then Ellen’s stomach gurgled as well, and she fought to hold in another laugh.

“Is that so, ’Lady ’Len?” Silas asked, putting his ear to her belly, tickling her with his soft hair, and she pulled his face up to her own for another kiss. This time, she noted that his beard was just as soft as his hair. She supposed she’d have to write and tell Maggie. Or she could keep it all for herself…

“Can’t have you starve,” he said, pushing himself up. “I’ll just be next door,” and then he left her there to dress for dinner, when food truly was the last thing on her mind. And did she imagine the sway in his hips as he took his kilted self out of the chamber? Ellen realized with another blush that she wished she could have watched his muscled backside swagger away stark naked.

Her cousins were already at table when Ellen and Silas arrived, and she sat down in the chair he pulled out for her, self-consciously aware that her usually pale cheeks were still flushed a most unnatural hue.

Jory offered Finn a knowing look but said nothing, and Ellen noticed that Finn seemed particularly attentive to his wife throughout the meal, murmuring to her between bites, offering her more wine, apologizing each time they bumped elbows because they sat just a little too close together.

They all ate heartily of the fine venison stew Mrs. Kynoch had prepared, another trial run, perhaps, ahead of the Gathering.

“I should have arranged some entertainment for your visit,” Silas observed aloud. “A harpist, or a storyteller perhaps. My apologies.”

“Not necessary, I assure you. That hot spring…” Jory sighed contentedly. “I have never had a better host. I can hardly wait to return, and we haven’t even taken our leave.”

Silas smiled to himself, the tips of his ears flushing pink. Ellen loved it when the big man grew bashful like that.

“It has left me quite lazy, however,” Jory went on. “Will you mind terribly if we retire early, El? We’ve long days coming.”

Ellen shook her head. She didn’t mind at all, though her stomach knotted with anticipation of how she and the MacKenzie might possibly fill the time until the Shaws’ early morning departure.

While the men stayed back to talk, Ellen followed Jory to her chamber to watch her cousin pack and say goodbye for who-knew-how-long this time.

“Is he good to you, El? I mean you seem content, but I have to ask.”

Ellen’s cheeks burned as her face broke into yet another giddy smile.

“I see,” Jory grinned, taking her hands and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Then you’ve come to an understanding? You no longer wish to go abroad?”

Tears sprang to Ellen’s eyes at the reminder. What they’d just done was one thing, but she couldn’t simply give up on her old dream. Could she? With the Gathering coming, and she certain to bungle it somehow?

“I see,” Jory said again. She nodded sympathetically and pulled Ellen into a tight embrace. “Well, everyone here adores you, your husband included.”

Did he? Silas was very much a caregiver, but he was also a man of duty and honor. He’d look after his wife no matter who she was or what his feelings for her.

Jory leaned back, studying Ellen’s skeptical face. “Do you doubt it? El, he’s the most lovesick pup I’ve ever laid eyes on. He took us to that hot spring today for you, though I’ll gladly reap the benefit.”

Perhaps her cousin was right. If marriage hadn’t been quite what Ellen expected, well—she hadn’t known what to expect, had she? Had hardly dared imagine it. They were still getting to know each other, still navigating uncertain terrain.

But as she headed back to her own chamber, Ellen could still feel his fingers and his kisses upon her skin, like fire. Would he consider it consummated now and forbid her leaving? Would a convent refuse to take her?

The door was open between their two chambers when she entered, and he sat at his desk, staring at a piece of correspondence. He read her face and said, “I’m sorry they’re leaving, mo chridhe. You must know they’re welcome any time. Your cousin’s course in Edinburgh won’t last forever.”

He was right, but it still seemed like the final, permanent separation from Jory that she’d long known was coming and could never allow herself to prepare for.

“Come,” he said. “I’ve something to show you.”

He led her into the corridor and up a dark set of stairs until they emerged onto the windy battlements. But around the corner, the stone walls provided a shelter from the harsh, Highland wind, and when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, her jaw fell open at the vast, starry sky.

There were more stars here than she’d ever seen in Inverness. In truth, she wasn’t in the habit of looking up.