Guests had come bearing gifts and were dressed in their finest for the joint celebration of Hogmanay and Leana and Tavish’s marriage. Leana glanced around the hall from her position at the head of the table and allowed herself a smile. She could not have imagined such a moment not long ago.
The feast was a grand display of the juiciest cuts of veal and venison, stuffed fowl and generous mounds of bannock—prettied up by arrays of greenery. Tankards of celebratory mead and ale were struck in cheer every time someone at the table needed a refill, which was often enough. The chatter and laughter were raucous, often drowning the jaunty tunes being played by musicians on their strings and pipes.
The ambience was a glorious symphony of high spirits and hope, hope for an era of peace between the two powerful Scottish clans.
Leana glimpsed up at the tall man in the chair beside hers, feeling her cheeks warm at the sight of him.
A handsome grin lurked by his lips as he listened to her father, who’d unsurprisingly meandered the conversation towards another rambunctious joke.
Slipping her palm onto her husband’s lap furtively, she threaded her fingers within his. “Tavish,” she leaned in and murmured, “I’m a wee bit tired. I’m to retire to our bedchamber I think…” She paused, disarming one of the nosy guests watching them with a wide smile. “Join me in a while, will ye?”
His grin turned a touch devious, while he managed to keep his glances on the chief intact. “With pleasure,” he whispered back.
A short while later, Leana reclined on the bed, smoothing her palms over the thick fabric of the blanket. It was hard to believe she had done it—she had married a Maclean and their union would keep the clans bonded forever.
However, there was still one unread chapter to this culmination, an announcement that she wanted to share with Tavish, in person, before spreading the joy to the rest of their folks.
“Tavish?” She stood up, her gaze travelling to the doorway as soon as she heard the familiar tread of his footfall echoing in the corridors.
The door gave in with a creak, and he crossed the distance between them. “My wife…” His lips curved.
Hooking his fingers around her waist, he pulled her close, his desire for her already obvious.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Ye came quicker than I thought ye would. Couldnae wait for my father to finish with his jokes, could ye?”
“Nay, he was deep in his cups and scarcely noticed my absence.”
Leana laughed. “I’m no’ complaining.”
A roguish smile curled his mouth as he balled her wild locks into a fist and pulled her close. Descending on her lips, he teased them, toyed with them, leaving her heated and breathless. After several moments, he stalled the entanglement of their lips, his gaze trailing over her.
“Ye make a fine bride, lass.”
His hands wandered down over her breasts and untangled the laces of her kirtle with one quick tug. With a low growl, he shoved the fabric from her shoulders. “Leana…” his voice was low and raspy in her ears, “I could never tire of looking at ye…” His fingers traced the soft rise of her breasts.
“And I could never tire of looking at ye, Maclean.”
A gasp lurched in her throat as his lips trailed down the base of her neck. His warm mouth urged her back against the cold stone wall, the contrast in sensations sprinkling her skin with shivers.
“Tavish…” she clawed at his long locks then wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
“I have been blessed…” he hefted her waist close to his hips in raw need,. “to find a bride like ye.”
With a smile, Leana removed his hand from the length of her legs and guided it up to her belly. “We’ve been blessed in other ways too.”
Staring at the sight of his hand protectively perched on her center, his raw gaze met hers. “Say it, Leana,” his voice turned restlessly hoarse, “say what you’re meaning to.”
“We’re going to have a bairn, Tavish.”
She saw him swallow. “We are?”
She pushed the stray lock trailing down his forehead. “Aye.”
He clasped a hand to her face, his palm curving her cheek. “A bairn,” he murmured. “I couldnae have pictured such an end for us before ye came to Blair Castle.”
“Nor I.” She gave a tilted smile. “‘Twill be a fresh start for the Sinclairs and the Macleans.”
“Aye, that it will.” He kissed the bridge of her nose and rested his forehead against hers. “A fresh start,” he murmured. “I wouldnae mind starting something else right now, though.”
She tightened her grip on his neck and kissed him hard, grateful to this man for allowing her to be herself, for accepting her, flaws and all. Justice had been served and she had gained everything she had lost—a family and love.
“Ye’d better get started then, Maclean. Us Sinclair lasses dinnae like to wait.”
“That I know,” he said with a chuckle, scooping her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed. “That I know.”
THE END
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OTHER TITLES BY SAMANTHA HOLT
To Steal a Highlander's Heart
To Dream of a Highlander
To Avenge Her Highland Warrior
Read on for Chapter One of To Steal a Highlander's Heart
Chapter One
‘Tis time the sidhe repay their debt, the faerie thought as she cracked open a shutter and peered at the sleeping woman. Aye, she was a pretty one. Not like herself, but beautiful enough. A plan had been hatched long ago but now was the time to put it into motion. Both were ready for it and if she did not take action soon, then
