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She rode high, holding onto his waist as his body emptied into her, until he collapsed and sent them both crashing deep into the bed.
She landed on his chest with every muscle in her body trembling, her fingers searching for his skin, for something solid to hang onto in the throes of the wicked heaven swallowing her.
“Dammit, Karta, had I known that—hell—had I known that…” His words—from some far-off island—drifted to her.
With her head full, heavy with a thousand sparks of light, she could only manage to flip her chin flat onto his chest to look at him.
Wonderment in his dark blue eyes. Awe and lust and respect. All of it entwined in love.
Why had she even hesitated when she opened her eyes and saw him days ago in the drawing room below, rubbing her feet? Why had she even bothered with those moments of hate—hate she knew she could never hold to? Why had she resisted? Why had she not jumped on top of him then and there?
He’d always known what she needed. And she needed this.
He gave her equality in everything he was. He gave her everything he was—and with it, she could be everything she’d always hoped to be.
She buried her face into his chest for a long moment, inhaling the scent of his skin—sex and spice and sweat—and imprinted it in her mind, letting it spark to life the yearning in her core once more.
“Had you known that, what?” she asked.
“I would have murdered someone—anyone who stood between us—long ago just to live these last minutes with you.”
She chuckled into his chest. “Then it is a good thing time unfolded as it did.”
Her tongue slipped out, tasting him again. She wasn’t done for the day—and she wasn’t about to let him be either.
Wiggling up his naked body, she reached for one of the knotted strips of cloth, untying it. She moved to the other, repeating the process, then she hovered over him for a long breath. “Don’t think you’re done.”
He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good, because I want you driving into me against the door next. And then on top of me, reaching into the very depths of me.”
His laughter turned into a guttural growl and he sat upright, his hands curving along her backside and yanking her tight to his reawakened shaft. “I don’t think Christmas will ever be the same.”
She smiled as she leaned in, her nose brushing along his. “I don’t think my life will ever be the same.”
“Nor mine. This is the day it starts, Karta. The day right begins.”
She nodded, her lips a feather against his. “Our right. Finally. A gift beyond all others.”
His hand sank into the back of her hair, clasping her mouth to his in a toe-curling kiss.
Her smile, too big to contain, broke the kiss and he pulled slightly away. “What?”
“But you can still give me gifts,” she said, mirth on her lips.
He chuckled, deep and warm. “The world, my lass. The world and more.”
{ Epilogue }
December 1823
Floorboards creaked next to her. Domnall’s weight, sneaking out of the room again, leaving her to slumber in peace.
Just as he had every day for the last three months. Her head thick with sleep she was loath to leave, Karta opened her eyes and rolled onto her side—a feat of grand proportions with her belly as large as it was.
She looked about their bedroom. Her husband was nowhere in sight. He had been quick to escape this morning.
Then she saw it. A pink string.
