“I can never surprise ye with those beasts around,” Geordie said on a laugh as he reined in and dismounted.
“Nay, ye canno’,” she agreed with a grin, shaking her head when Barra immediately rushed excitedly to her husband the momenthe was off his horse and standing in the sand. The dog licked his hand, and then dropped to the ground and rolled about excitedlyon his back, showing submission even as he invited pets. Clucking with irritation, she said dryly, “That dog used to be mine.”
Geordie chuckled at her jealous comment, and bent to run his hand over the dog’s belly, before giving him a pat and straighteningto approach Dwyn where she stood next to a much more dignified Angus. Much to her relief, he, at least, had not abandonedher, and had remained seated obediently at her side.
“We’re all yours, love,” he assured her, bending to pet Angus now as well.
“Hmm,” Dwyn murmured dubiously.
Geordie grinned at her expression. “I’m sorry, wife. Are ye feeling neglected? Shall I rub yer belly too?”
Dwyn laughed softly when he did just that, rubbing the small bump where their child grew. Her laughter turned into a softmoan though when he kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth.
“Damn,” Geordie sighed a moment later when he managed to make himself break the kiss. Resting his forehead against hers, heconfessed, “I’ll never get enough o’ ye.”
“That’s a good thing,” she breathed, resting against his chest.
They were silent for a minute, just holding each other while they waited for their passion to ease a bit, and then he pulledback to peer down at her and announced, “Rory and Alick are here.”
“What? Why?” Dwyn asked, and then worry knitting her brow, she asked, “Is there trouble? Do your sister or one o’ yer brothersneed ye?”
“Nay,” Geordie assured her, hugging her briefly. “He’s here to check on you. He’ll be visiting us often to check on yer progressgrowing our child, and then staying the last month or so ere ye have him, her or them.” He pulled back again then and saidseriously, “I’m no’ taking any chances with yer health, love. I’m too happy here at Innes with ye to risk losing ye on thebirthing bed.”
Dwyn grinned, but asked, “Are ye? Happy here, I mean? Ye do no’ miss yer Highlands too much, do ye?”
“I’m very happy,” he assured her solemnly. “I love ye, Dwyn. I love you, I love our dogs, I love our home, I love Innes andI love having the ocean at me back door.” Cupping her face, he added seriously, “I love our life together, Dwyn Innes Buchanan,and do no’ miss the Highlands. Ye’re the best thing that ever happened to me, lass, and I canno’ even imagine me life withoutye.”
Dwyn breathed out a relieved sigh, and smiled. “I love you too, husband, and canno’ imagine life without ye either.”
“And ye never will,” he assured her, bending to kiss her again. This time Geordie didn’t stop when their passion ran awaywith them, but lowered her to the sand.
“What about Rory and Alick?” Dwyn gasped after tearing her mouth from his.
“They can wait,” he growled, sliding one hand up under her skirts and running it up her leg, pushing her skirts before it.“I’ve a mind to—” He paused on a groan as her hand found his growing erection through his plaid.
“Come home?” she teased softly, caressing him.
“Aye, lass,” Geordie said seriously, and then told her, “Ye may laugh that I call it that, but home is where the heart is,and ye’ve had me heart almost since the first moment I met ye. You are home to me, love.”
Dwyn’s face lost its teasing expression at those words, and she pressed a hand to his cheek as she said solemnly, “Then comehome, husband.”
An Excerpt from Love is Blind
Read on for a look at
LOVE IS BLIND,
a fan-favorite Lynsay Sands historical,
reissued in a beautiful new package!
Coming July 2020
Chapter 1
London, England, 1818
“‘Love is a fever . . . in my blood.’”
Clarissa Crambray winced as those words trembled in the air. Truly, this had to be the worst of the poems Lord Prudhomme hadrecited since arriving at her father’s town house an hour ago.
Had it been only an hour? In truth it felt more like several days had passed since the elderly man arrived. He’d entered brandishinga book, announcing with triumph that, rather than go for their usual walk, he thought perhaps today she’d enjoy his readingto her. And Clarissa would have, had he chosen to read something other than this poppycock. She also would have appreciatedit more were he not acting as though he were doing her a favor.
For all his words, Clarissa was not fooled. She knew the reason for the sudden change in plans. The man was hoping to avoidcalamity by restricting her to sitting decorously on the settee while he read aloud from his book of poems. It would appearthat even the aged and sympathetic Prudhomme was growing tired of her continued accidents.
She couldn’t really blame him; he’d been terribly forbearing up until now. Almost a saint, to be honest. Certainly he’d shownmore understanding and fortitude than her other suitors. He’d appeared to accept and forgive all the times she’d mistakenhis fat little legs for a table and set her tea on them, had given a pained smile through her tendency to dance on his feet,and had even put up with her stumbling and tripping as he led her on walks through the park. Or so it had seemed. But todayhe’d found a way to save himself from all that. Unfortunately, his choice of reading material left much to be desired. Clarissawould rather be making a fool of herself in the park and stumbling face-first into the cake table than suffering this drivel.
“‘It gives me wings like those of a dove.’” Lord Prudhomme’s voice quavered with passion . . . or possibly just old age; Clarissawasn’t sure which. Truly, the man was old enough to
