“Better?” Maggie asked, her gaze clouded with disbelief. “Never. There is no better man in the world for me than you, Philip Dunmore.” Her gaze glowed with her sincerity, as she stood on her toes and cupped his cheeks in her palms. “You? … I would be lost without you.”
He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. “Shh, love, no crying on our wedding night. Unless it’s from pleasure.”
She giggled and swatted at his impertinence. Then, as her stomach growled loudly, she flushed. “I’m sorry,” she gasped.
He ran a hand over her head, freeing her beautiful locks of more of their pins. “Why? My wife is hungry. I just wish in the future you’d tell me, so I could make sure you get food before your stomach growls loud enough to tell the whole town.” He winked at her again, as she giggled, and led her to the small table by the stove.
After riffling through the basket, they decided to cut into a chicken potpie. They dug into it with spoons and forks, eating it right out of the tin. “I feel like I’ve lost all my manners,” Maggie whispered, as she flushed.
“Oh, it’s like we’re roughing it,” he said, with a smile. “Your family meals are wonderful, but we won’t always be so formal, Maggie. Sometimes we might eat later or even eat in bed.”
“Eat in bed?” she asked, her mouth agape, as she stared at him. “Surely you’re joking.”
He shrugged. “Someday you might see the wisdom in the idea.” He set down his fork and went through the basket. “Bread, cheese, cookies. A small cake just for us.” He smiled at Maggie. “We won’t have to leave for a few days.”
She grinned at him. “Well, that is why they call this a honeymoon.” She flushed at the appreciative glint in his gaze. “Although we really haven’t gone anywhere.”
He sobered. “I’m sorry, beloved. It’s not possible to travel now. And, when it is possible to travel, I must work. I always want to provide for you.”
Her spoon clattered to the table, as she reached forward and grasped his hand. “Philip, I was teasing. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you right now. Please believe me.”
He gazed deeply into her eyes and nodded. “I do.” He rose. “Come. Dance with me.”
“Dance?” she sputtered. “Why would we dance? Eamon and Niall aren’t here to play us music.”
“Thank God,” he murmured, with a wicked glint in his gaze. “I want to hold you. We can hum, or we can imagine we hear a tune they’re playing.” He pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. “Let me hold you close, as I’ve dreamed of all day.”
She sighed with pleasure, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I wanted this,” she breathed, resting against him. “A quiet moment with you to marvel at our good fortune.”
He chuckled. “A quiet moment was never to be had with the O’Rourkes determined to celebrate.” He kissed her head.
Swaying softly in his arms, she whispered, “How did you not become fall-down drunk, like Cormac did at his wedding to Niamh?” She kissed the underside of his jaw. “I saw them plying you with enough whiskey to fell one of your beloved horses.”
He laughed, pulling her tighter into his arms. “I stood near one of your mum’s plants and poured the whiskey into it.”
“You never?” Maggie gasped. “She’s been laboring for two years to get that plant to bloom, and now your whiskey will kill it!”
Dunmore shrugged, looking down at her unrepentantly. “I refuse to feel remorse, when it means I can stand here, with you in my arms, and not be blind drunk and miss our wedding night.” He shook his head. “Some things are too precious to miss, Maggie.”
She glowed at the tender look in his gaze. “Yes, some things are too precious,” she breathed, standing on her toes to kiss him. The kiss was at first tentative, as she barely pressed her lips against his. Her fingers ran through his trimmed beard, and she sighed as she rubbed her nose and cheek through the soft yet bristly hair. “I love your beard.”
“Good,” he murmured, “for I have no desire to shave it off.” He bent forward, kissing her neck. “Although, for you, I would.”
She arched back, giving him better access to her neck, gasping as he found a tender spot. “Oh, this feels like heaven,” she gasped. She shivered, as his hands ran over her, gentle yet firm. She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I know you, Dunmore. I know you’ll never hurt me. I trust you.”
He had recoiled at the mention of hurting her. “Never, Maggie. You are precious to me. My beloved wife.” He kissed her again, before spinning her around. “Come. Let’s ease you from your beautiful gown. I don’t want to harm any of the stitchwork.”
Giggling, Maggie bent her head forward, so his hands could nimbly unbutton her. “Niamh said she’d understand and would gladly make whatever repairs were necessary.”
He chuckled and kissed his way down her spine. “Even your back is flushing at that statement.” He kissed her again, murmuring, “There’s no shame in others knowing we take joy in each other, love.”
She shivered, when he found a scar on her shoulder and ran his thumb over it again and again, as though his tender touch could erase it. “No shame. I’m new to this.”
He growled and pushed down her beautiful dress, leaving her in her underclothes. After untying her corset, he eased that off her, leaving her in her shift. “Aye, I’m glad you are new to this. For you can learn what it is to be adored.”
She smiled, her hand rising to cup his cheek, as her eyes shimmered with tears. “I already know all about that.”
He groaned, reaching for her
