Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Their tent was warm and inviting. Candles set about the space cast a soft, flickering glow against the canvas; their dance swayed against the walls and turned the whole space a soft amber hue. The gentle rustling of the night breeze was a barrier between them, and the sounds erupting from outside.

Leona felt almost sick, her nerves clawing into her. Her hands were shaking. In fact, all of her was quivering like a leaf in the wind. She stood there, staring at her husband as he removed his coat.

"Leona," he said, looking over his shoulder.

"A-Aye?"

Caelan's expression softened, and he moved to her, his arms open. She did not hesitate to step into him, grateful to bury her face in his chest. Gently, he stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "We will do things at yer pace," he told her, promising. "I am yer servant, Leona. I vow it to ye. Whatever ye will have of me, I am yers."

Settled down on plush cushions, Leona felt her fingertips brush against his as she took the glass of water from him. Her nerves had settled and been replaced by an almost unbearable sense of excitement.

Outside, the distant sounds of the drunken party reached her ears. She could not help but chuckle at the music and the howling of at least a hundred drunk Scots. Her eyes lowered to her drink, twirling the liquid as the corner of her lip curled. "It seems they are celebrating our wedding more than we are."

"Well," he said, leaning in closer. "Let us change that."

With a lingering glance, their eyes met and locked. Leona felt her heart thundering in her chest. Carefully, she set her glass down without tearing her gaze from him.

Caelan reached out, caressing her cheek. The touch was gentle and tender, filled with a depth of emotion that she knew no words would ever express. There wasn't much to say; the silence between them spoke volumes.

He shifted on the cushions, leaning forward so that she had to turn her face upwards to meet his lips. Their mouths collided, soft and uncertain at first, but soon the kiss became more desperate. Leona felt an ache in her chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

"Close is nae close enough," she whispered against his lips.

Her words must have had some effect on him because he groaned. The sound was a gentle hum she felt against her skin, sinking into her core. Caelan left her mouth, trailing tender kisses from just below her ear to the curve of her collar. "I havenae wanted anythin' so bad."

His hand moved down from her side, painstakingly tracing along her thigh to the hemline of her dress. His fingers teased underneath the fabric, slowly inching it towards her hips.

She gasped as his touch found her spot and shamelessly rolled her hips against him. Leona shuddered as he palmed at her, following a rhythm that was unheard to her ears. Already aroused and begging for release, she could feel the pent-up tension between her hips. The waves of pleasure that folded and churned within her caused her to cry out.

Caelan watched her, his eyes glossy almost with desire. "Ye make the most bonnie of sounds."

Struggling to catch her breath, she eased herself onto her elbows and looked at him. She wanted more and had no problem telling him how greedy she would be. "I need ye, Caelan."

"Tell me what ye were to say to me earlier," his voice was rough as he slowly reached up, his fingers gently working at the bodice of her gown. Deftly skilled hands gently pulled away at the laces, and the fabric loosened, then opened around her.

Her eyes were trained on his, but then she blinked. "What do ye mean?"

"When our hands were joined," as he spoke, he took her hand in his and held it exactly as they had been hours ago. "And ye were bound to me, and I to ye, ye were likely to say somethin' but thought of it."

"I am yers in all manner."

He sharply inhaled, his head turning to the side as he studied her. Gently, he released his grip on her. Caelan rose to his feet, revealing his own arousal plainly against the folds of his kilt. He reached out, offering her his hand. Leona took it and found her footing.

Caelan gently pulled the fabric wrapped around her away, each layer seeming to take longer than the last. Leona was growing impatient and desperate, half-heartedly, she was tempted to rip it all off herself but stood still, letting him lead.

When she was completely bare, he eyed her with a pair of hungered eyes. A starving man would not even eye food the same way that her husband was watching her now.

Leona reached out, less articulate with her fingers and hands; she all but tore the clothing from him. She looked, admiring him closely and shamelessly. It was not the first time she had seen him in all of his glory, but this was different. Now, he was hers, and she was his. They belonged to each other.

On the bed, she was eased back slowly into the pillows. Caelan lowered himself to her, positioning himself between her legs. He kissed her once more, his mouth distracting her from the sharp pain she began to feel as he entered her. It was a pain that was fleeting, turning into pleasure with each swaying movement. He pulled from her lips, his eyes searching hers as she let her hips match his pace. The movement was unlike anything she had known before.

She knew enough about the act from reading and hearing the tales from her maids, but Leona truly did not plan to enjoy herself as much as she did. The same tension was building, though different now. This was deeper, clenching and pleading.

As the moment came, she reached for him, wrapping herself around him and closing off whatever small space was between them. Caelan cursed under his breath; his rhythm turned frantic and desperate until it reached the climax. Caelan groaned, pushing himself deeper into her as he seemed to gather her body against his. She could feel his release within her, which only drove her over the edge.

Once again, she felt the built tension shatter. Leona cried out, burying her face into his chest as she tightened and arched against him. Her reaction left him trembling inside of her.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled from her and fell onto the bed at her side. Carefully, he reached down and pulled the blanket up over her. The night air held a chill, and her skin was prickled with gooseflesh. "Did I hurt ye?"

Barely able to speak, let alone breathe, she shook her head. "Nay."

He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one arm. Caelan stared at her as he reached out, his fingers gently tracing the valley between her breasts. "Can ye breathe, lass? Do ye need some air?"

She chuckled. "I daenae ken if I could walk if I wanted to."

"That bad?" The concern was etched between his brows.

Leona closed her eyes. "Nay, m'love. That good ."

"Love?"

She blinked, realizing what she had let slip. "I–"

"Leona," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Did I mention that I love ye?"

Her heart swelled as she turned to face him. "I love ye, too, Caelan."

Caelan lay beside her, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the light linen blanket. She looks like an angel on Earth . Her hair fell about her like a halo, covering the pillows and framing her face.

His mind wandered back to the journey that had brought them both in the same bed, now as man and wife. The trials that they had faced, the pain, and the promise of new adventures were things he would welcome again and again if it meant she would be his.

Never in his life had he imagined that he could love someone this deeply, this intimately, and completely. The word felt foreign to him, something that was still an unraveling mystery, even hearing his thoughts paint the word made him question how much he had changed. Leona had captured him in a way that seemed almost magical.

Caelan reached out, his fingertips falling onto her slightly parted lips. Her breaths came even and relaxed; the air that escaped her was hot and humid. "Ye have witchcraft on yer lips," he whispered to her, unable to hide the crooked smile that formed.

Everything about her drew him in.

He let his eyes travel from her lips to the curve of her chest and the dip of her stomach. Even though he had her only a short while ago, he couldn't help but become aroused by just glancing at her.

No one had ever felt like her. It was as if she had been crafted by the hands of fate specifically for him, and he, for her. In the soft candlelight, he traced his gaze back to her face. The outline of her cheekbones, the gentle and soft jaw, he committed it all to his memory.

As she sighed softly beside him, Caelan pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She groaned, turning herself so that she was closer to him still. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him as he closed his eyes.

For the first time in his recent memory, Caelan slept well.

The End?