Bride of the Mad Laird – Extended Epilogue
Three months later…
Tòrr’s teeth were chattering as they plodded up to their knees in snow, back to the castle gate.
The sleet had turned into snow as they went, dropping in tiny flakes that melted the instant they fell. One landed on his nose and he brushed it away. His dark lashes were sparkling with the icy flakes, his cheeks gleaming wet.
Lyra laughed with delight as snow fell on her cheeks and Tòrr leaned in to capture it with his tongue.
He made a clicking sound of mock disapproval.
“And nay matter the weather, ye insist on yer daily walk along the clifftops?”
Grinning with mischief Lyra took his arm, her fur coat and gloves keeping her warm despite the searing cold wind blowing up from the sea.
“’Tis true. I love walking there. ‘Tis freedom that I never thought tae embrace all those years I was captive in the Priory, although I hardly kent it.”
“Until I set ye free.”
She laughed. “Although, it seemed fer a while that I was merely exchanging one prison fer another.”
He pshawed, winding an arm about her shoulders and drawing her close. “But now, ye can walk as free as the gulls that fly above ye, or the golden sea-eagle reaching across the sky.”
“Aye. I am free yet as much a captive as ever I was, fer I’d ne’er leave this place as long as ye dwell here wi’ me.” She cast him a sideways glance. “Methinks I am looking forward tae warming meself before that blazing hearth in our bedchamber. Would ye care tae help me be out of these wet clothes?”
His eyes darkened. “If ye ask, I will be pleased tae oblige, me lady.”
Laughing, they hastened up the stairs to the keep and along the passage to their bedchamber.
She stood before the fire peeling off her gloves. Tòrr came to stand behind her and helped her out of her coat.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the warm, scented air, and turned in his arms, her hand reaching to caress his cheek.
Would she ever get enough of this glorious man? She would never tire of his kisses, his touch, his hard shaft that brought so much pleasure. She pressed her breasts against his broad chest, her fingers fumbling with the ties on his vest.
He dipped his head, exploring her mouth with his kiss, their tongues inciting each other. He placed his hands on the globe of her buttocks, drawing her tight to his hips. She gasped. He was already as hard as granite.
“Arms,” he said, taking the hem of her kirtle up. She raised her arms and he pulled off the garment and quickly followed it with her blouse, leaving her naked save for her chemise.
She pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his belt so that his britches could be pulled off readily.
Once they were both naked, he lifted her off her feet and laid her down on the thick rug before the fire.
Her heart pounded a deep, urgent rhythm, as he settled the long length of him beside her, resting on his elbows to gaze at her nakedness, his heated skin glowing gold in the flickering firelight.
Returning his gaze, her eyes traced the lean, handsome planes of his face, and she drew him down to meet his mouth with hers, their passion swirling in the air between them like the sparks in the air when lightning flashed and thunder roared.
She moved her body closer to his, her heart thudding in her chest as he cupped her breast, moving finger and thumb on the hardening nub, causing her to cry out while he held her. His lips were warm and tender at first, then, as their passion grew, she felt wild sparks of desire flowing through her veins.
He hooked his leg over hers, his knee nudging her legs apart, and moved his hand from her breast to the slickness between her thighs.
Moaning, she rolled on her back, spreading herself wider, giving him access to her innermost core, her body needing his touch as his clever fingers stoked the flames of her craving so that she moved her hips to meet his hand, sighing, groaning, clutching his shoulders with both her hands.
“Please,” she whispered, desperation overtaking her.
He uttered a deep-throated chuckle, bending to take her slickness in his mouth. Using his tongue to thrust inside her, he mirrored the movements his shaft would make, then circling her most sensitive nub, pleasuring her, robbing her breath, enslaving her with the rising ecstasy.
She thrashed her head on the pillow, crying his name again and again as his tongue pleasured her. He entered her with his fingers, his mouth and tongue suckling her, going deep, moving, caressing, bringing her to a climax of need that made her scream and rake her fingers across his back, heedless of causing him pain.
She was emboldened, her hips moving rhythmically, pursuing his touch, mad for him, all reason, all sense lost in the spiraling sensations of exquisite pleasure claiming her body, so that she was falling apart in his arms. She soared somewhere among the stars and the moon yet holding him, feeling his weight on her, joining her.
As she began falling to earth, he grunted and rolled over onto her, pushing his shaft inside her, moving, filling her, her senses overpowered by his manly scent and the salty taste of herself on his tongue.
His thrusting took her again to that same pinnacle of pleasure that she’d experienced minutes before, so that when he came, roaring his wildest delight, she was there too, screaming his name, clutching his shoulders, dying for love and passion for him.
They stayed together, dozing, until hunger awakened them.
“Must have nourishment.” He laughed. ‘Ye’ve drained all me strength.”
“That will never dae. I feel certain I’ll be needing yer strength tae return before much more time has passed.”
She reached a hand to run her fingers down his bare chest, toying with the flurry of hairs that sprouted there, arrowing down to his shaft.
He moaned. “Ye’ll be the death of me, lass, wi’ yer insatiable desire.” He got to his feet and leaned a hand to help her to rise. “Now. Food.”
He rang the bell while she grabbed their robes. He flung his on just as the knock came to the door. A young serving-lad stood there awaiting instructions.
“This cold weather has given us a mighty appetite, lad. Can ye request Bethia in the kitchen tae serve our supper in our chamber as soon as possible?”
She giggled as the lad hurried away. “Nay one will believe ‘tis the snow that’s caused yer hunger.”
He grabbed her round the waist and pulled her to him for a quick kiss, his eyes sparkling.
By the time the servants marched in with trays for their supper he had added logs to the fire and returned it to the merry blaze it had been.
They fell upon the food, ravenous, devouring bannocks, cheese, boiled eggs, roast chicken, almond and honey cakes and custard before they’d eaten their fill.
He took a seat before the fire and pulled her onto his lap.
“Mm.” A contented sigh issued from his lips. “Who could have dreamed that the bitter cold of winter could be so pleasant.”
She laughed, taking the last honey cake and dividing it in two.
“Ye ken, there’s something I should tell ye.”
He looked up, his brows drawing together. “’Tis good news I hope?”
Still smiling, she ran her fingers through his hair and smoothed it back from his forehead. “Mayhap ‘tis the very best of news.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head, waiting.
“I’ve missed me monthly flow two times now.”
She watched his face as he considered this. Then, to her great joy, his face lit up. He smiled, taking her hands in his.
“Daes this mean… what I think it means… that…” He paused as the full importance of what he was hearing sank in.
She nodded. “If ye’re thinking it means that a wean is on the way, I believe it daes. I’ve asked Eilidh and she seems rather certain I am with child. If all goes well, sometime this coming summer, we’ll have another presence in Dùn Ara. One of our own making.”
He closed his eyes briefly, savoring her words.
“Ye’ve made me happier than I ever could have believed was possible, me Lady Lyra, me little nun. ‘Tis very good that we made the trip tae Clan MacInnes before ye found out and decided that yer faither’s advisor, Adrian, will keep leading the clan fer the meantime.”
Then he took her hand and kissed her palm, turned it over and kissed the other side three times. “Providence was indeed smiling on me that day outside the Priory.”
She grinned. “And smiling on me, also.
He buried his face in her hair. “Saving yer life, was the best decision of me life.”
“Every time?” she asked.
“Aye, every time. And I’d dae it all over again.”
The End
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Super ending for the happy couple … or wonderful beginning for Lyra and Torr!
Thank you so much dear! I love how you see it—as both a joyful ending and an exciting new beginning for Lyra and Torr. There’s so much more ahead for them, and I’m thrilled to share their journey with readers like you! ❤️