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My parents come over to congratulate me and Erica, which of course involves hugging. My father, who has never been much of a hugger, throws his arms around me and thumps me on the back.
"This time it'll stick," he whispers to me.
Niall MacTaggart has already started to teach Frank Teague how to play shinty, so I don't need to worry about how everyone will get on. Aye, my family will fit in very well with Erica's. They're all barmy.
Gradually, the wedding guests head down the hill to their cars parked in front of our house, so they can drive into the village for the reception. And aye, holding the wedding festivities in the village was my idea. I'd planned to sneak off to our house for a private party, which meant I needed to get rid of our families and friends so I can make Erica scream my name as loud as she wants and we won't disturb anyone. Our parents, the last guests to leave, stop to say goodbye before the MacTaggarts drive the Teagues into town for the reception.
Casey bounds around us with his tongue lolling and flapping. Casey will stay with Erica's parents tonight, though he will come home in the morning. I think he'll enjoy his new life as a Scottish farm dog.
Deb hugs Erica and whispers something I can't hear, something that makes Erica blush.
My father whispers to me too, though I don't blush when he says, "Do us all proud, laddie, and shag Erica until dawn the way I did with Sorcha on our wedding night."
I did not need to know about that, and I have no idea how to respond. Fortunately, our parents leave and spare me the agony of discussing sex with my father.
But aye, I'm planning to shag my wife all night long.
As the last taillights of the last guests recede into the night, I hoist my wife into my arms and carry her over the threshold of our new home—ourfarm in the Highlands, where we will raise as many bairns as Erica wants, whether that's one or half a dozen. I'd worried I might never break free of Aisley and that even if I did, the damage I'd let her do to me would never heal enough that I could find the life I'd always wanted. But I'd been wrong. Though I wouldn't have admitted it at the time, I fell for Erica the first time I saw her tending the roses outside her house. I'm still falling, a little more every day, and I won't ever stop.
I set my wife down, shut the door, and smile. "Welcome home, Erica MacTaggart."
"It's so beautiful, Lachlan."
I hold up one finger. "Got another surprise for you."
"You know how I love your surprises."
Trotting into the living room, I grab the item and return to Erica.
Her hand flies to her chest, and her eyes flare wide for an instant. "I thought you were kidding when you said—"
"A Scotsman doesn't joke about these things." I spread my legs wide and raise the sword in front of my chest. "Like my claymore?"
"Oh, yes."
I brandish the five-foot-long sword with both hands. "Better run for yer life, lassie, 'cause ahm coming fer ye."
Erica sprints for the bedroom, giggling all the way while I race after her. When we reach the bedroom, she lets me catch her. I toss the sword onto the floor and sweep her up into my waiting arms. "Time to pay the tithe."
"Tithe?"
"Aye," I tell her with sarcastic solemnity. "Every Highland wife must pay her husband a tax on the wedding night."
She rolls her eyes. "You've got way more money than I do. Want the five bucks I still have in my purse?"
"Not money,gràidh." I heave her onto the bed, making her yelp while she whumps down on the lush bedding, her erse sinking into it. I give her a wicked grin, infusing it with all the lust she inspires in me. "I had another kind of tithe in mind."
"Hmm, in that case…" She stretches her entire body, the movement lifting her breasts high enough that they almost spill out of her dress. "I'll pay up gladly."
I strip off my clothes faster than ever and sprawl on top of her. Thrusting a hand under her, I fumble for the buttons on her dress but can't quite grasp any of them. My lips tighten, my jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and I feel like my cock will explode before I ever get this ruddy dress off her. After about thirty seconds of jostling and struggling, I spring to my knees and throw my arms up. "Bloody hell, woman, what kind of contraption have you got holding you in that thing?"
"Buttons." She pushes up into a sitting position, her face aligned with my waving erection, and bats her eyelashes at me, her face the picture of false innocence. "Is there a problem, my lord and master?"
My mouth puckers again, but this time because I'm trying not to laugh. Never in a thousand lifetimes would Erica obey my every whim and command, and I don't want her to, anyway. I love her fiery spirit. "Careful. I might take you up on the lord-and-master bit."
She gets to her knees, shuffling around until her back faces me, then she glances over her shoulder. "Surely a powerful warrior such as yourself can handle a few buttons."
A challenge? Oh, she's in for it now.
