Was there a part that bored or that you didn't really like in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything. You could say no if nothing bothered you.

Which was the part you liked most in the book? *

Even a character, a scene, or anything that you enjoyed.

Do you check the trope before choosing a book? *

• Always! I often choose what to read based on the trope.
• Not really. I check whatnot but I don't take a look at the trope.

If you have to choose, which part of a book is most difficult to hold your attention? *

• The beginning. If the first few chapters are not engaging enough, I'll not continue with the book.
• I tend to leave books around the middle. Usually there is lack of action around this time and I get bored.
• I leave them around the ending if it's not fast-paced enough. I already guess what will happen and if it's not well written I prefer to skip it.

Whose story to you want to read about next? *

• Kian Drummond
• Camden Donnachaidh
• Deirdre Hay
• Macaulay Drummond

Anything else you'd like to share?

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One month later

The wedding was a lavish affair. Lana had tried to avoid most of the unnecessary things, but Alba and Evelyn had insisted that it was, in fact necessary; all of it. After the quiet ceremony, attended only by their close family, Lana had walked into a great hall that was filled not only with clansmen and women, but also food, drink, and flowers decorating every column and every bare space on the tables.

The cooks had outdone themselves, serving enough roasted meat for an army.

I suppose there is an army in here, though.

Lana recognized a few men from her own clan there, men in high positions that held plenty of influence. Nothing had been decided yet about the future of the Hay Clan, and Lana knew it was none other than the three Murray brothers–Tate, Magnus and Scott–who had invited those men there. It would be good to have them on their side, she knew.

All that mattered to her, was that Deirdre was finally there. She had given up the habit for now, and she didn’t yet know what the future held for her.

“Ye look so bonnie, Lana,” Deirdre said, taking Tate’s seat next to as he was absorbed in a conversation with Kian and Macauley at the other end of the table. “Ye look happy.”

“Ach, Deirdre.” Lana smiled at her, taking a good look at her now that they were sitting close. Every day, she seemed to be getting more mature. She had had a lot of responsibility suddenly thrust into her hands, what with the clan being in her care now, but she was handling it beautifully. “Ye ken… the older ye get, the more ye resemble Maither.”

Deirdre only knew their mother from portraits, the few that still remained in Hay Castle. But Lana remembered her, though faintly.

“Ye think so?” Deirdre asked.

“I dae,” Lana said. “Yer husband will be very lucky.”

“I told ye, I dinnae ken if I wish tae marry,” Deirdre said. “It’s nae so bad, the life o’ a nun.”

“I ken,” Lana assured her. “But it’s nae so bad, bein’ married either, after all.”

“Ye only say that because Tate is yer husband,” Deirdre said with a short laugh. “If it had been Laird Cummings…”

“Well, then I suppose I would have done me best tae become a widow,” Lana said, surprising even herself with that confession. For a moment, Deirdre gaped at her in disbelief, before she burst out laughing.

“Are ye enjoyin’ yerselves?” Tate asked, sliding behind Lana and placing his hands on her shoulders. Lana leaned into his touch, still craving it, even though they had already had plenty of each other. It turned out that neither she nor Tate were willing to wait a month for their wedding to share a room once more. Besides, no one seemed to be batting an eyelid at them being together.

“Aye, very much,” Lana said. “But I would enjoy meself more if we danced.”

Without a word, Tate offered Lana his hand. She took it, and the two of them joined the people who were already dancing, gliding effortlessly into the crowd.

There was only so much Lana could dance, though, before she began to have other thoughts in her mind. She pulled Tate aside, to a dark corner where no one else could see or hear them, the rest of them too busy with the feast to take any notice.

“I think it’s time we go tae our chambers,” she said. “Dinnae ye think?”

It was all it took for Tate to grin and take her hand, leading Lana out of the great hall through a back door, so that no one would try and stop them. They rushed past the kitchens and around to the garden, before using another small entrance to head back inside the castle.

They ended up by the drawing room, and from there, it was only a flight of stairs to their bedroom, where Tate closed the door firmly behind them. He wasted no time before he pressed Lana against it, his mouth landing on her neck with a groan.

She had thought she was the one who was eager, but now Tate was proving her wrong.

“I’ve been waitin’ all day fer this,” he said. “I’ve been thinkin’ about bein’ inside ye ever since I woke up this morn and ye werenae there.”

Lana moaned at Tate’s words, tipping her head back to bare her neck to him. She, too, had been thinking about him all day, eager for the moment they would be able to slip out of the feast so that they could finally be alone.

Hasty hands all but tore Lana’s clothes off her body, much to her chagrin. Under any other circumstances, she would have chastised him for it, but she was too aroused now, unable to think about the state her clothes. Tate quickly peeled back layer after layer, until she stood there in front of him, fully nude and dripping with want.

Tate fell to his knees in front of Lana and her hands found their way to his blonde hair, tugging gently at the strands. She pulled him closer to her, until his lips pressed against her most sensitive spot, making her arch her back in pleasure.

She would never get tired of this, and it seemed like Tate would neither . He loved pleasuring her, enthusiastically bringing her to the edge time after time, and this time, it wasn’t any different. His tongue dipped inside her, making Lana’s head fill up with nothing but cotton and her ears buzz with the rush of blood. Tate’s hands curled around her rear, pulling her even closer, forcing her firmly onto his mouth.

Lana canted her hips forward, selfishly taking her pleasure. Warmth built quickly deep within her, and she knew she wouldn’t last long, but she also knew her climax would be only one of many that night. She could tell by now when Tate was insatiable, and so she knew they had a long night—and perhaps an even longer day—ahead of them.

Her pleasure crashed over her like a wave only moments later, and she held tightly onto Tate’s hair as she moaned his name. She was glad that everyone else was in the great hall and that the sounds of the feast would drown out the ones she was making, as there was no way she could stop them now.

“Inside me,” she commanded, panting as she pulled Tate up to his feet. “Let me feel ye, Tate, please.”

Never one to disappoint or leave her waiting, Tate tore off his own clothes without any regard for them. Lana could have sworn that she even heard some of the fabric rip, but she didn’t care, not when those strong hands grabbed her hips and spun her around.

“Brace yerself,” Tate said, and as Lana arched her back, she also braced her forearms against the door for leverage.

Tate’s hands travelled down the expanse of her back slowly, his fingers following the curve of her spine. Then he moved them back up, circling her body to cup her breasts and squeeze as he pressed his manhood against her, rubbing the length of it on her folds. It was a terrible tease, and no matter how much Lana tried to get him to slip inside her, she couldn’t maneuver her hips the right way.

“Tate,” she said, her voice a high-pitched whine that brought a furious blush to her cheeks. She didn’t know she could even sound so needy, and she didn’t particularly like it, but Tate seemed to. A growl erupted from his chest, and he finally pushed himself inside her, filling her.

It was a relief and a joy at the same time. It was as though she had been deprived of water and had just found a cooling stream, comfort washing over her. Tate didn’t try to tease her anymore. His thrusts were as demanding as they were satisfying, hitting a spot deep inside her that drew moan after moan from her lips.

“So bonnie, Lana,” Tate whispered in her ear, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. His teeth grazed over it, and Lana gasped, shaking from head to toe as Tate picked up his pace, pushing deep into her as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, leaving small marks.

Lana wished she could see Tate, because she was certain that he, too, looked mesmerizing. He always did when they made love, strands of his hair falling to his eyes, that icy blue of them boring into her when their gazes met. She had never seen a man as handsome as him, and she couldn’t get enough of him.

But she didn’t want to move from the position in which he had put her. His length hit all the right spots like that, curving just slightly against her walls in a way that made her gasp with pleasure. She didn’t know why they hadn’t tried it before, but what she did know was that it would be far from the last time they ever coupled like this.

Her climax came once more just as Tate spilled into her with a shout of her name, the telltale warmth spreading inside her. He gave her a few more, short thrusts that only intensified her pleasure, and then his head fell against her back, strands of his hair sticking to her sweaty skin.

“We should get married more often,” Tate said, and Lana couldn’t help but laugh, the movement making him slip out of her. Lana didn’t want to move, but the position was getting uncomfortable, and there was a chill in the room she hadn’t felt before, for obvious reasons, so she reluctantly made her way to the bed, away from Tate.

Naturally, he joined her within moments. Curling around her back, Tate pulled the covers over the two of them and held Lana tightly in his arms, his hand coming to rest low on her stomach. “Ye wanted a bairn, did ye nae?” he asked. “I think it’s time we dae anythin’ in our power tae have one.”

“Or a few,” said Lana, smiling to herself. She would be more than happy to try, but for the moment, she was content to rest in Tate’s arms, to be surrounded by him, his warmth, his scent, leather and ink and the wine he had had at the feast.

“Lana,” Tate said after a few moments of silence.

“Hm?”

“I love ye.”

He said it so softly, so quietly, that a few tears prickled at the corners of Lana’s eyes. There was so much behind those three simple words, and nothing she had ever heard had sounded as sincere.

“I love ye, too, Tate,” she said. “I’ll love ye always.”

The End.

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