Her brother spoke from behind her, his voice deep and rich. “Something that I missed the opportunity to do when you took your wedding vows.”

Curan swept her from head to toe with that keen stare that had once annoyed her.

“I am well, Brother.”

He tilted his head slightly to one side in question.

“I can see that, Sister.” He offered her his arm, and she placed her hand on it with a smile. “However, I am going to stay a few more days to ensure that everything is settled. You are, after all, my only sister.”

“A fortunate fact.”

Curan offered her a soft chuckle before escorting her into the hall. Word had already spread of her arrival, and every soul was on their feet. They turned to watch her come down the aisle, and the men tugged on their hats while the girls nodded their heads. Tears stung her eyes because it was the respect that she had dreamed of, longed for, but could only earn.

Somehow, she had.

But her attention settled on the man waiting for her. Gordon stood at the head table, every one of his captains beside him. But they did not sit next to him today. There were two chairs for her and Curan.

The look in Gordon’s eyes sent two tears down her cheeks. Joy shimmered there, so much of it that there was no way to mistake it. He pulled the “X” chair back for her, and no one sat down until he had pushed it back toward the table.

The rest of the hall became noisy once more as the meal was served.

“Ye are a fine sight, lass, even if I find myself wanting to carry ye back above stairs because I want to make sure ye are truly rested.”

“Really, Gordon, I am not sure that you should declare so boldly that you want to carry me off with my brother listening.”

One of his eyebrows arched at the suggestive tone of her voice. A hint of passion flickered in his eyes. Jemma lowered her eyelashes, shielding her own emotions from him. A second later she jumped when his hand landed on top of her thigh and gave it a squeeze.

Curan chuckled once more. “Careful, Barras, I did warn you that my sister is not meek.”

“Was that a warning then?” Gordon reached out to pick an apple off the table. He cut into it with a small knife, splitting it with a sharp sound. He placed one-half on her plate before taking a bite out of the firm fruit and chewing it while contemplating her brother. “And here I thought ye were bragging to me. Ye know, polishing up yer sister’s image so that I’d be hungry for a match with her.”

Gordon’s captains laughed, but her husband watched her pick up the apple and take a small bite from it. The flesh was sweet, and the smell filled her nose as she swallowed slowly.

“Maybe I was.” Curan answered Gordon, but Jemma discovered that her brother was watching her as well. She took another bite and chewed it faster, shooting both men a warning look.

“I, for one, am grateful that things are settled now and no one shall feel the need to look after me.”

The table quieted, several frowns appearing. Jemma looked to Gordon for an explanation.

“It seems that the Church shelters its own. Imogen was smuggled away by her fellow sisters, and none of them will tell me where she is.”

“The priest told us to trust the Church and pray for her.”

It was a disheartening thought but one that didn’t hold up against the greeting that she had received from the castle’s inhabitants. Her hope was burning brightly, and it was even balm for her heart to know that she would not have to endure the guilt of Imogen suffering somewhere in a cell, or worse yet, her execution.

“I wish her well.”

There were plenty of raised eyebrows in response, but her husband considered her from behind a frown.

“I do.”

“Well then, ye may wish Anyon well, too, for she has taken leave of the castle to join her cousin on McIre land.”

Jemma swallowed again and noticed everyone at the head table watching her.

“Another bit of glad tidings.”

“I agree, wife.”

Jemma heard the tone in her husband’s voice that often sent her temper to heating. He’d sent Anyon away, and he was not sorry.

She wasn’t, either.

Her pride might ache, but her heart applauded the action. She reached beneath the table and pinched his thigh.

His hand captured hers, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around hers awakening more desire in her. She suddenly needed to be touched. It began to take command of her attention as her belly filled. She turned her hand beneath his and began to stroke his fingers, one after the other. Their skin sliding against each other was intoxicating; even the bright sunlight didn’t make her shy away from the desire inside her.

It made her feel even more alive, and that was something that she had missed too sorely to feel guilty over.

“Since ye claimed the duty of escorting me wife in, I believe I’ll take my chance to have her on my arm now.”

They made it halfway down the aisle before Gordon laughed low and deep and scooped her off her feet. Those still eating erupted with amusement. Many of them slapping the tabletop while their laird carried her off.

“You enjoy that too much.”

Gordon tossed her into the air and caught her. “Aye, I do, lass.” He carried her up the stairs to their chamber, never stopping to catch his breath.

“But I confess that I enjoy being inside ye more.” He laid her down on the bed, his gaze moving over her as though he was attempting to memorize her. “However bold or blunt ye might find that, lass.”

“I find it pleasing. Very pleasing.”

“Is that so?” He reached out and flipped her skirt up to expose one leg. He clamped his hand around her knee and slid it up to her thigh. “How pleasing?”

“So pleasing that I wouldn’t mind if you ripped this dress off me, so long as you lay with me, no clothing between us.”

He drew in a stiff breath, a muscle twitching on the side of his jaw. The fingers on her thigh tightened.

“No just yet, lass. Ye need to rest.”

Jemma hissed and sat up. She slid her own hand across the sheet and beneath his kilt to smooth along his thigh, but she did not stop there. She continued on until she felt the sac that hung beneath his member and then the hard rod itself.

“I need to feel you inside me, Gordon. I need to be your wife.”

“Sweet lass.” His voice was hoarse, but he captured the sides of her face between his hands and kissed her. She lost her grip on his cock but happily reached for him as he pushed her back while his lips teased hers. He didn’t rush to open her mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking along her lower lip in a slow motion before he pressed a harder kiss against her lips. Slowly, steadily, he increased the pressure until she opened her mouth and allowed his tongue to penetrate. Liquid fire pooled inside her, like molten metal going into a mold. His tongue stabbed down into her mouth, stroking along her own, and she eagerly accepted it, closing her lips around it to suck it.

“Sweet wife.”

He released her and stood. She ached for him, rolling up to follow him until she heard his belt open. He pulled on the thick leather with a hard motion and tossed the open belt aside. His tartan received only enough attention to keep his colors from landing on the floor. He gathered up the loosened pleats and tossed them in a heap on top of a table.

Jemma reached for the top button on her doublet and flicked it open.

“No.” He barked the command at her while ripping open the ties at the neck of his shirt.

“I want to undress ye.”

His eyes glowed with excitement, and he pulled his shirt up and over his head to finish baring himself. He climbed onto the bed, his knees digging into the soft mattress.

“I want to kiss every inch of ye.” His voice was hoarse again and his eyes bright with emotion. He released the buttons on her doublet with soft motions before gently easing the garment down her arms. His touch was the complete opposite of the way he had stripped his own clothing aside. Now he was tender and almost hesitant. He seemed to be savoring every movement, and she moaned softly as he stroked his hands back up her arms with only her chemise interfering.

“I spent too many hours dreading the possibility that I might not ever get to feel yer warm skin next to mine in this life again.” He grasped the tie that held her stays closed and pulled the knot loose. Her breasts felt heavy and swollen. Gordon worked the lace free and pushed the corset over her shoulders so that it fell onto the bed behind her.

His hands trailed over the curves of her breasts, unleashing sweet sensation that rippled along her skin. She wanted to fall back onto the bed and simply enjoy being touched.

Gordon slid his hands down to her waistband and opened the tie there. With a few motions of his fingers he had it open and was pulling her skirts up and over her head. Her arms were stretched high above her head, and then the garment was finally free.

“Stay like that, lass.”

The position pushed her breasts out, and her chemise fell in soft waves over her thighs. She was kneeling on the bed, and Gordon sent her hip roll onto the floor in one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but the thin linen shift.

He slid his hands down her arms and onto the sides of her body. Moving them inward, he cupped each breast, sending a shiver down her back. His hands kept moving, down across her midsection and then over the curves of her hips and still farther along her thighs until he found the hem of her last garment. He drew it up slowly, and she felt the air touching her bare skin. A soft murmur of delight whispered past her lips as he drew it higher, up until her breasts felt the morning air kiss them. Her nipples tingled, beginning to contract. And the skin on her arms felt the linen brushing over them until it was drawn completely away.