The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(118)

Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. She could feel him positioning himself between her legs. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said tightly, his muscles clenched with restraint.

He pressed into her. Slow and gentle. Inching. Stretching. Filling her. She gasped. Moaned. Opened around him.

It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt at all. It felt incredible. She felt full. Possessed. Loved.

His eyes were dark and hot. “You feel so good.”

“So do you,” she said huskily.

“I love you, mo chroí.”

She smiled, tears of happiness filling her eyes. “And I love you.”

Slowly, his body started to move in hers in long, smooth strokes. It was overwhelming, the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced. He claimed her body even as his eyes claimed her heart. The pleasure was every bit as intense as before, but it was deeper. It wasn’t simply the sharing of two bodies, but the sharing of two souls. He made love to her. To every part of her. Slowly, gently, and thoroughly. He was a part of her, and she never wanted to let him go.

Finally, she could take no more. Her soft moans grew more urgent. He heard her silent plea and responded. His strokes started to lengthen. Deepen. Quicken. Become harder. She could feel his body tense under her fingertips even as hers started to break apart. She had to break apart. There was nowhere else to go.

She cried out, the pleasure shattering over her in a slow, pulsing wave.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, letting himself go. He came into her in a hot rush that melded with her own. It seemed to go on forever. The spasms reverberated through every inch of her, not letting go.

It was just like before, except this time, when it did finally end, he rolled to the side, tucked her up against him, and held her as if he would never let go.

It was a long time later when Ewen found the energy and the words to speak. He was humbled, and a little awed, by what had just happened. He’d never known it could be like that. He’d never felt closer to anyone in his life. He’d swived many women, but he’d only made love to one: the woman who would be his wife. He still couldn’t believe it.

As if reading his mind, she asked, “How did you get Robert to agree?”

She was cuddled against him with her cheek on his chest, playing with the spattering of dark hairs in a V at his neck, but to ask her question, she’d propped her chin on the back of her hand to gaze up at him.

“You’d already done most of the work,” he said, running his fingers over the bare skin of her arm. “And so had my brethren.”

Ewen still couldn’t believe they’d refused to go on any missions unless he was brought back. MacLeod had reminded Bruce that he’d given him full authority over the team. The Highland Guard fought for Bruce, but they were MacLeod’s men.

“How did you get Walter to come to Dunstaffnage to help you plead your case?”

“It wasn’t easy. But I made him see that I was more valuable as his man than not. I also might have given him the idea of an alternative bride.”

Walter Stewart might be young, but he was every bit as ambitious as his kinsman James Douglas—and his kinsman Robert the Bruce, for that matter.

She lifted a brow, intrigued. “One more impressive than a daughter of Mar?”

He laughed at her affront. But in this case, yes. “I thought you wanted out of the betrothal, so I thought it better not to argue your finer parts,” he squeezed her bottom, “of which there are many.”

She made a face, and then ruined the effect by laughing.

He kissed her head and then drew her in closer. “What did you say to the king?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just reminded him of all we’d done in his service.”

“And?”

“And reminded him of his own marriages.”

“That’s it?”

She shrugged again. “It was enough. But I came well prepared to plead my case and was confident he would see reason. Though I was not forced to use it, I had one argument that would ensure he would see things my way.”

He looked at her skeptically. “I thought you were done being overconfident. The king was about as angry as I’ve ever seen him.”

“Ah, but a good lawman always saves the best argument for last.”

“And what argument is that?”

Her eyes met his, and he felt something inside him shift even before she spoke. She put her hand over her stomach. “My menses are late.”

He stilled. His body had sensed the import of her words, but it took his mind a moment to catch up. “A babe?”

She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “I think so. Is … is it all right?”

Jesus, how could she ask something like that? A hot wave of emotion crashed over him. It tightened in his chest and throat. He didn’t know what to say. He never had. But the difference with Janet was that it didn’t matter. She understood him anyway.

But just in case, he told her again. This time with his body.

It was better than all right. It was everything. She had given him everything. The hunter had found what he didn’t even know he’d been looking for, and he would never let her go again.

Epilogue

Ardlamont, Cowal, Scotland, December 1315

Janet was going to have strong words with that little blue-eyed devil. “James! James Fynlay Lamont, come here right now!” She raced from room to room, coming to a stop when she entered the nursery and saw her husband. He stood a few feet away from her with two bundles tucked under his arms and two thin legs peeking out from behind his.