Underneath The Mistletoe Collection. Marguerite Kaye

But she wasn’t really his wife. She could not let him down in this most basic of things, because he did not require it of her. She clung to this, and told herself it was a comfort.

      ‘I declare the Rescinding complete, the door closed on the old and open on the new,’ Innes was saying. ‘It’s time to celebrate. Mr Alexander here will fill you all in on the details of our plans for a new pier and a new road, too. There is food and drink aplenty to be had, but first, and most important, one last toast.’ Innes lifted his glass and turned towards Ainsley. ‘To my lady wife, who made this day possible. I thank you. I could not have done this without you.’

      He kissed her full on the lips; the guests roared their approval and Ainsley’s heart swelled with pride. She had done this. She had proved something by doing this. For the moment, at least, nothing else mattered.

       Chapter Eight

      It was dark, but the party was only just hotting up, thanks to the fiddlers. A bundle of bairns slept snuggled together like a litter of puppies, some of them still clutching their sugar candy. In the recess at the far end of the room, in front of Robert Alexander’s model of the pier, Mhairi was holding court with a group of local wives. Miss Blair was dancing a wild reel with Eoin. This, Innes decided, was as good a time as any for them to make their getaway unobserved.

      The night air was cool. He wrapped a soft shawl around Ainsley’s shoulders and led her down to her favourite spot, overlooking the Kyles. Above them, the stars formed a carpet of twinkling lights in the unusually clear sky. ‘It went well, didn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Save for that curse Mhairi’s brother made.’

      ‘Stupid man. If he really was so ashamed, he should have done something about it when my father was alive.’

      ‘From what you’ve told me about your father, Mr McIntosh would then have found himself homeless.’

      Innes considered this for a few moments. ‘No. More likely my father despised Dodds McIntosh for not challenging him. His sense of honour was twisted, but he did have one.’

      ‘Perhaps he did love Mhairi, in his own way.’

      ‘My father never loved anyone, save himself.’

      ‘Not even your brother?’

      Ainsley spoke so tentatively, Innes could not but realise she knew perfectly well how sensitive was the subject. He hesitated on the brink of a dismissive shrug, but she had done so much for him today, he felt he wanted to give her something back. ‘You’re thinking that my father’s wilful neglect of Strone Bridge is evidence of his grief for my brother, is that it?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I’m not so sure. My brother loved this place. If my father really cared, why would he destroy the thing Malcolm loved the most? Besides, Eoin said it was a gradual thing, the neglect.’

      ‘A slow realisation of what he’d lost?’

      Innes shook his head. ‘A slow realisation that I was not coming back, more like. He destroyed it so that I would be left with nothing.’

      ‘And you are determined to prove him wrong?’

      ‘I’d prefer to say that I’m determined to put things right.’

      ‘How will you do that?’

      ‘I have no idea, and at the moment I have better things to think about.’

      He kissed her in the moonlight, underneath the stars, to the accompaniment of the scrape of fiddles and the stomping of feet in the distance. She was not really his wife, but she understood him in a way that no one else did. He kissed her, telling her with his lips and his tongue and his hands not only of his desire, but that he wanted her here, like this.

      ‘Are you sure someone won’t come chasing after us to come back to the party?’ Ainsley whispered.

      ‘If they do, I’ll tell them they’re in danger of incurring a year of bad luck for interfering with the ancient and revered tradition of the Bonding,’ Innes replied.

      He felt the soft tremor of her laughter. ‘Will you run up a special flag to declare it over, in the morning?’

      ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. You know that you can change your mind if you don’t want to do this, don’t you? You must be tired.’

      ‘I’m not the least bit tired, and I don’t want to change my mind,’ she answered. ‘I think we’ve waited long enough.’

      He kissed her again. She tasted so sweet. Her skin was luminous in the moonlight, her eyes dark. He kissed her, and she wrapped herself around him and kissed him back, and their kisses moved from sweet to urgent. Panting, Innes tore his mouth from hers. ‘I meant it,’ he said. ‘I am not expecting you to— We don’t have to...’

      ‘But you want to?’ she asked, with that smile of hers that seemed to connect straight to his groin.

      ‘I don’t think there can be any mistaking that.’

      And she laughed, that other sound that connected up to his groin. ‘Good,’ she said, ‘because I want you, too.’

      It was the way she said it, with confidence, unprompted, that delighted him most. He grabbed her hand, not trusting himself to kiss her again, and began to walk, as quickly as he could, towards the Home Farm. Ten minutes. It felt like an hour.

      ‘Does this Bonding take place in the laird’s bed or his lady’s?’ Ainsley asked as Innes opened the front door.

      He kicked it shut, locking it securely, before he swept her up into his arms. ‘Right now, I’m not even sure we’ll make it to the bed.’

      * * *

      They did at least make it to her bedchamber. A fire burned in the cast-iron grate. Mhairi must have sent someone down from the castle to tend it. The curtains were drawn. A lamp stood on the hearth, another one on the nightstand, lending the room a pleasant glow. Ainsley stood, clasping her hands and wondering what she ought to do now. The excitement that had bubbled inside her dissipated as she eyed the bed, and memories of that other first night tried to poke their way into this one. She shivered, though it was not at all cold.

      ‘You can still change your mind,’ Innes said gently.

      He meant it, too. A few days ago, Ainsley would have assumed that what he meant was that he had changed his mind. Even now, despite the fact that she knew how much he wanted her, she had to work to believe it. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to change my mind. I don’t.’ She looked at the lamps, wondering.

      ‘Do you want me to put them out?’

      Like the last time. Like all of the last times. She shook her head. She would not have it like any other time.

      ‘Do you want me to leave you to undress?’ Innes asked.

      ‘I want...’ She studied him, focusing on him, drinking him in so that he was the only one there in the room with her. ‘I want you inside me,’ she said, meaning in her head, not meaning it how it sounded, though when she saw the results, the leap of desire in his eyes, the way he looked at her, with such passion, she meant that, too. ‘I want you,’ she said, closing the space between them, ‘and I want you to show me just how much you want me. That’s what I want.’

      Innes pulled her tight up against him, lifting her off her feet. ‘I think I can manage that,’ he said, and kissed her, and she realised that he already had.

      He picked her up, but instead of laying her down on the bed, he pulled the quilt onto the floor and laid her down by the fire. Quickly divesting himself of his jacket, his waistcoat, his boots and stockings, he stood over her wearing just his plaid and his shirt. The firelight flickered over the naked flesh of his legs. She caught a glimpse of muscled thighs as he knelt down beside her, pulling her into his arms again to kiss her.