He got to his feet and slipped a diamond ring on her finger. The oval-shaped stone was set in gold with a delicate filigree pattern etched into it. It was perfect in its elegance and simplicity. Hugh knew her better than she realized.
“Edinburgh has some fine jewelers as well as clothing stores,” he whispered.
“Oh, Hugh.”
And she had thought he’d only been worried about keeping her warm. The wicked man had been planning to ask her to marry him all along.
She looked down at the ring and sighed. “This is the most beautiful Christmas gift anyone could ever receive. Thank you.”
Hugh slipped his hand around her waist. “The ring is a betrothal gift, my love. I have something else planned for my fiancée for Christmas Day, but you will have to wait.”
He was the most handsome, wonderful, and at times infuriating man she had ever met, but she would not have exchanged him for anyone else. Hugh Radley was exactly the man for her.
She wiped away a tear, then, emboldened by his declaration of love, she stole one kiss. Then another. By the time she was ready for a third touch of his lips, Hugh had tightened his grip about her waist and pulled her hard against him. His low growl of need set her heart racing.
Until now, her private fantasies of this moment had been enough to keep her satisfied. With his heated touch, her desire raced to a dangerous level.
He stepped back from her, and with what she imagined was an unintended overly dramatic flourish, tore his scarf from his neck. With the mixture of nerves and the humor of his look, she snorted a laugh. He raised an eyebrow in her direction as he tossed the scarf on a nearby sofa. His jacket quickly followed.
“Your turn,” he murmured.
Mary looked at Hugh’s clothes laying in a pile. Seeing them now brought home the reality of the situation. She was tempted to pinch herself; this was really happening. Never had she dared to imagine that her secret dreams of being with him would come to fruition. Now they were.
A worried look appeared on his face when she didn’t move. For her, this moment was more than a simple physical encounter. Her love for him ran to her very soul.
She held out a hand and was reassured when he took it and drew himself closer once more. “Hugh,” she murmured, offering up her mouth to his. He nipped at her bottom lip, teasing. She nipped him back, her breath shuddering.
No longer needing any invitation, she placed her hands on his face, drawing him down to her. Their mouths locked in a fiery embrace, tongues tangled. It was a wicked dance.
When she finally released him from the kiss, Mary knew the time had come. Time for her to follow his lead.
With a deft shrug, she let her wool shawl fall to the floor. She resisted the temptation to follow Hugh’s example and toss it away. She had a terrible throwing arm and the shawl was more likely to end up in the fireplace than on the sofa. She kicked it safely aside.
After sliding a finger under the top of her gown sleeve, she pulled it down. Her intention of revealing a hint of shoulder failed miserably in the attempt. The sleeve wouldn’t budge. She silently rued the sensible nature of Scottish clothing. They both chuck
“You may have to help me with the fastenings,” she said.
He turned her to face away from him, then began to undo the ties on the back of her gown. For every knot he untied, he placed a kiss on the nape of her neck. Mary shivered with anticipation.
“For my sake, you might want to have a word with your maid about how tight she ties these laces. This could take a while.”
When she was finally free of her binds, Mary stepped out of her gown. Hugh rewarded her with yet another kiss.
His shirt was next to go. Mary made quick work of the button at the top and watched with bated breath as she got her first glimpse of his hair-dusted chest.
She lay a hand over his heart, feeling its steady beat. A heart she knew beat for her. “You are the most . . .”
He brushed a hand on her cheek as she stood, lost for words. Hugh lifted his shirt free from the top of his kilt and pulled it over his head.
With his bare torso and striking blue and gray kilt, he looked for all the world like a rugged Scottish highlander—one she was hoping would soon ravish her. He took hold of the buckle of his belt and gave her another saucy grin.
He took his hand away and she mewed with disappointment. Her elusive prize remained hidden under layers of heavy wool. When he met her eyes, she saw all humor had disappeared from his face.
“I want you to do this; that way, you are in control. Nothing happens from this moment on without your express permission,” he said.
She lay her trembling fingers on the buckle of his belt. His words were perfect in their reverence. They would have a lifetime of knowing each another, but there would only ever be one first time. A moment to treasure always.
She looked deep into his piercing blue eyes as she separated the leather belt from the buckle and dropped it to the floor. His kilt quickly followed.
Her gaze drifted lower, taking in the sight of Hugh in all his splendor. She sucked in a hesitant breath. She knew enough from overhearing the not-so-scholarly discussions in the meals hall at college to understand the state of his manhood and what it meant.
He wanted her.
“May I?” he asked, taking hold of the sides of her shift.
“Please.”
As her shift joined the rest of the scattered garments on the floor, Mary resisted the instinctive reaction to cover herself. She was about to become his woman; this moment demanded full honesty between them. She
