Page 47 of The Finest Scottish Fate

“Heart of my heart,” he said, then waited.

“Heart of my heart,” she whispered.

“Soul of my soul.” He encouraged her with a faint smile.

“Soul of my soul.”

“We reunite, to never let go.” He pulled in a deep breath. Even in the shadows, his eyes gleamed with undeniable love.

She wet her lips. “We reunite, to never let go.”

He nodded. “Blood of my blood. Bone of my bone.”

“Blood of my blood. Bone of my bone.” An eerie tingling crackled around them like some strange static electricity.

“We two are now one,” he said. “Our halves are now whole.”

The hard hammering of her heart made her gasp for breath. “We two are now one. Our halves are now whole.”

Ever so slowly, he entered her, steadily pushing all the way to the barrier that she’d saved just for him. Then he paused, the almost painfully tight fullness strange, but oh so perfect.

“For the good of all, with harm to none,” he said, his voice husky and strained.

“For the good of all, with harm to none,” she repeated, even though speaking was next to impossible.

“So let it be spoken,” he said. “So let it be done.”

“So let it be spoken.” An indescribable energy thrummed within her, building ever stronger. “So let it be done.”

“So mote it be,” he growled as he thrust in deep and laid her virginity to rest with a brief sting. Then he withdrew and rocked into her again while keeping her gaze locked with his. “So mote it be.” He nodded for her to repeat it.

“So…mote…it be,” she managed to say before the force within her exploded with a blinding light that overwhelmed her. She screamed and clung to him, bucking beneath him as he hammered into her ever harder. Shuddering, she raked her nails down his back and shouted again, “So mote it be!”

Then he roared, arching back as he buried himself fully and stayed. His waves of spasms as he emptied shook through her, replenishing the energy and eerie light, stirring them to bring her to the pinnacle of another unbelievably strong orgasm.

“We are one!” he bellowed, shuddered again, then collapsed with his arms curled around her.

Still shivering with the delicious aftershocks, she cradled him close and slid her fingers into his hair. “Yes,” she said, still gasping for breath. “We are one.”

*

Curled around her as she slept on her side, Drummond lifted his head and resettled more comfortably among the pillows. The wild disarray of Evie’s silky curls kept tickling his nose. But aye, he loved it. He breathed in her intoxicating sweetness of roses and a woman well pleasured several times over. A smile tickled its way across his mouth. Every room smelled of their loving. Like wild animals, they’d marked their private suite well with their scent.

Dawn had arrived, yet the storm raged on, clattering and howling outside the window and blocking what little light the rising sun tried to share. A dismal grayness prevailed, barely much brighter than the night. Most of the candles in the room sputtered low. Some had even snuffed themselves out. As much as he hated to consider it, the maids and lads bearing peat for the fires would have to be allowed admittance before too very much longer.

“How will Morganna ever get through this?” Evie asked, her voice rich and throaty with sleepiness.

He kissed his beloved wife’s temptingly bare shoulder, curled tighter around her, and cupped her breast in his hand. “She is Unseelie, m’love. Weather is nothing to her.” He nuzzled his face deeper into her hair, not caring that it tickled. “Rest,” he whispered. “It brings me peace when ye sleep in my arms.”

“I’m afraid she won’t come back since we’re together now.” The depth of her fretful sigh shifted her against him. “She promised to help me acclimate. I’ll be lost without her.”

“She said she would return as soon as she had gathered those who could help protect ye. Ye must give her time to build her forces.” He tried not to clench his teeth, praying Morganna would not go back on her word. His mother had often spoken of the fickleness of the Fae, whether they were those of the Light or the Dark.

He kissed Evie’s shoulder again, relishing the warm, sweet softness of her skin. “Sleep,” he whispered, even though his cock thought otherwise. The hardness of his rising made him ache to return to where he belonged. He fondled her breast, gently rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

She wiggled her delectable arse back against him. “How can I sleep when you’re encouraging me to stay awake?”

Unable to resist, he reached down between them and guided himself back inside her slippery wetness. “I dinna wish to be rude and encourage ye overmuch.” Then he slid his hand around, down between her legs, and stroked the nubbin of her womanhood, matching the slow rhythm of his deliberate thrusts. “Lore A’mighty, love, I’ll never get enough of ye.”