Page 128 of Under the Laird’s Promise

He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring. His hands moved to the laces of her gown, working them loose with practiced ease. He pushed it off her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet. She stood before him in just her shift, pulse hammering.

"Beautiful," he breathed. "So damn beautiful."

Maighread reached for his tunic, pulling it over his head. His chest was scarred and muscle. She traced one scar with her fingertip.

"Ye're nae so bad yersel'."

He laughed, the sound rough. Then he lifted her and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently. He followed her down, covering her body with his, and for a moment just looked at her.

"I love ye," he said.

"I love ye too."

What followed was slow and sweet and devastating. Every touch deliberate, every kiss claiming. Maighread had never felt so completely possessed, so utterly cherished. When he finally joined their bodies, she gasped at the sensation, the fullness, the rightness of it.

They moved together, finding rhythm, building toward something glorious. His name fell from her lips like a prayer. Her nails dug into his shoulders. The pleasure climbed higher and higher until it broke over them both in waves that left them shaking.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync. Tavish rolled to the side, taking her with him, keeping her close. His hand stroked lazy patterns on her back.

"That was…" Maighread couldn't find words.

"Aye," he agreed. "It was."

"We're married."

"We are."

"And tomorrow we might be fighting fer our lives."

"Aye. But today, we're just this. Ye and me, taegether. Naething else matters."

She pressed her face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "I'm glad we didnae wait."

"So am I."

They stayed like that until exhaustion finally claimed them both, falling asleep wrapped around each other, husband and wife at last.

When Maighread woke, pale morning light filtered through the windows. She was still tucked against Tavish's side, his arm heavy across her waist. She shifted slightly and his eyes opened immediately.

"Morning," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning."

They lay quietly for a moment, just looking at each other. His thumb traced circles on her hip, gentle and absent.

"It's peaceful," Maighread said softly. "Strange, considering what's coming."

"The calm before the storm."

"Aye." She touched his face, memorizing the lines around his eyes. "What happens now?"

"Now I need tae ride out and inspect the castle defenses. Make sure everything is secure before Sinclair arrives. Ye check that things here are taken care of.”

"Aye—" He kissed her forehead.

He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Maighread lay back against the pillows, alone in their marriage bed, and listened to his footsteps fade down the corridor.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT