His body was big and strong and warm, and in the room’s silence she thought she could hear the sounds of their hearts beating. He started to say something but she pressed her fingertip to his lips. “Don’t talk,” she whispered. “Not now.” Talking would destroy the magic and she wanted very much to believe in magic. If she didn’t, she might remember all the reasons this wasn’t right. Why she had no business being here in this strange country, with this man she barely knew. How she wished it could be so much more than it was.
HIS BRIDE’S BODY trembled. Duncan could feel the restless energy building inside her as he touched the slope of her breast with a gentle hand. Such powerful beauty. He wanted to worship her the way the pagans had worshiped the earth in all her richness and fertility. He wished he had the ring with him now, to tell her finally all that she meant to him. Had meant to him from the first moment he looked into her eyes.
But he was too far drawn into passion’s heart to stop now. There would be time tomorrow for what needed to be said. Tonight was for pleasure.
Warm skin to warm skin. Heart to heart. The power of touch shocked them both to their marrow and for an endless time all they did was look into each other’s eyes.
He had never done this before, really looked at a woman the way he was looking at her. Before, he always saw the topography, the play of light and shadow, the swell of muscle and architecture of bone. He saw all of that in her and so much more. He saw straight through to her heart.
And no one had ever made Sam feel the way he did. Shy and bold. Terrified and safe. Wanting it all now, everything, in every way possible. She was greedy for him, hungry to gather him into her, and so she moved beneath him, her hips rising and falling, rising and falling, until he understood all that she’d been trying to say.
He positioned himself between her thighs, caressing her lightly with his hand, making sure she was ready for him. He was all coiled muscle and heat, and it would take very little to push him over the brink.
She made a small sound then, a low moan deep in the back of her throat, as she drew him into her body. A primitive sense of possession, of fierce, blood-hot victory, swept over him and he began to move, slowly at first then faster, waiting each time for her to pick up the tempo before he changed it again.
And she did.
Every time. In every variation.
They moved as if they’d been together since the dawn of time, the kind of seamless erotic lovemaking that inspired poetry, and when it was over they lay there together for a very long time, as the silence around them grew more charged.
She wanted to say something but couldn’t find her voice.
He wanted to tell her but couldn’t find the words.
In deep and plangent silence, they fell asleep.
Chapter 13
Sam’s mother called at eight the following morning to convey her regrets that she wouldn’t be at the party that afternoon.
Sam, who had been in the middle of drying her hair, found it difficult to hide her annoyance. “Mother, we’ve both known you weren’t coming from the day I sent you the invitation. Why did you wait until the last minute to tell me?”
“I don’t like your attitude one bit, Samantha. I’d hoped I would be able to rearrange my schedule and join you but I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I wanted to meet this man you’ve found yourself married to.”
Sam sat on the edge of the bed and switched the phone to her other ear. “Is everything okay, Mother?” she asked politely.
Julia was silent.
“Mother?” Sam raised her voice. “Is everything okay?” she repeated. She and Julia weren’t close but she did love her mother despite everything.
“Darling, I didn’t want to go into this,” Julia said.
“Mother, if there’s something, please—”
“I had an eye job two weeks ago,” Julia said. “I’m still bruised.”
Sam stared at the phone the way people on television sitcoms liked to do. “You had an eye job?”
Julia’s laugh was amused. “Darling, this isn’t my first. Just the first one you’ve heard about.”
By the time Sam hung up the phone, she had learned more than she’d ever wanted to know about eye jobs, face-lifts and liposuction. To think she’d always thought her mother’s stunning good looks were the result of great genes and good nutrition.
She felt vaguely depressed as she went into the bathroom to finish drying her hair. Truth was, she’d been depressed ever since she woke up that morning to find Duncan long gone. His pillow was smooth. The covers had been pulled into place. For a second she’d wondered if she’d dreamed the entire wonderful interlude of the night before, but there was no denying the gentle ache between her thighs, the well-used feel of her body.
She finished arranging her hair in a sleek braid then walked into the bedroom to dress for the party. She wasn’t entirely certain what you were supposed to wear to a summer party in the Highlands but figured she couldn’t go too far wrong with a sundress in a buttery shade of yellow. Besides, it was one of the few things that still fit her comfortably and left enough room for her to breathe. Next week she would have to ask Duncan if he would take her to Glasgow or Edinburgh so she could shop for some new clothes to see her through the rest of her pregnancy.
Her dress was draped over the bed, its soft yellow folds drifting gracefully across the pure
