Chapter 25

Chapter 25

One month later…

"I do," Jocelyn promised, and the ceremony was complete. She and Lachlan stood hand in hand, the rope that fasted them together tied tightly, and he stared back down at her with such love and adoration that she thought she might burst.

"Then under the eyes of man and God, I proclaim ye man and wife," the officiant declared. "What He has joined, let nay man sever."

"Amen," Jocelyn whispered, and Lachlan did the same. The echo from their small group of guests filled her ears and she glanced out at all of them.

James and Blair sat at the front, identical proud smiles on their faces, while their children sat on their laps. Beside Blair was Aoife, dressed in a colorful gown she'd gotten from a market nearby, and then Deirdre, who was happily sobbing into a silk handkerchief. On James' other side were the newest residents of the castle; Gracie and her mother, Maggie, who had moved into the castle permanently on Jocelyn's suggestion. Gracie was cheering for her brother, a little too loudly, but nobody seemed to mind.

The other guests were various residents of the keep, mainly guards and councilmen, including the soldiers who had been there the day that Blair and James had found Lachlan and Jocelyn in the woods.

There were about twenty guests in all, no more than that; both Jocelyn and Lachlan had expressed a preference for a smaller ceremony. All of them echoed back 'amen', concurring with the priest's blessing and wish for Lachlan and Jocelyn's bond to never break, and Jocelyn felt her heart swell with love and hope. Things were dangerous out there right now, as war had already begun, but here and now, in this place, there was nothing but love and hope—and that was its own kind of peace.

"Ye may now kiss yer bride," the priest announced, and Lachlan swept Jocelyn into his arms, delivering a kiss of such passion and ardor that she yelped in playful surprise and a few of the guests laughed.

After a little time, she gently—and a little regretfully pushed him back—reminding him quietly where they were, and whispering in his ear that they could continue later.

While the gathered attendants cheered and laughed and teased, Jocelyn took Lachlan's hand, and the two of them made their way back down the aisle—together, for the first time, as husband and wife.

Though the ceremony had happened mid-morning, the celebrations that James and Blair had thrown on behalf of the newlyweds were still in full flow as the sun began to set on the horizon. Jocelyn had danced and ate and laughed and joked so much that her head was in a spin, and everyone had been so eager to congratulate her. Her younger sisters especially were in a tizzy of excitement, teasing each other about which of them would be the next to find a handsome husband and proudly declaring that they'd known all along it would end this way from the first moment they'd met Lachlan.

After Jocelyn finished yet another dance, this time with a young soldier who'd wished to congratulate her, the weariness hit a little too strongly to continue. She waited until someone proposed another toast, then took the opportunity to slip out of a side door and into the cool emptiness of the stone hallway beyond it. Though she was enjoying the celebrations, she needed a moment to collect herself. It was so hectic in there that she hadn't even been able to speak with her husband in quite a few hours.

Husband. How strange that word felt, and how wonderful. She'd now bound herself to Lachlan for life, just as he had bound himself to her. She knew that some woman found this idea a little overwhelming or scary, but for Jocelyn, she felt nothing but a sense of peace and certainty—and, of course, love. Lachlan was the fate she had chosen, and she was thrilled that she had the rest of her life to see it through.

The door opened, and Jocelyn hastily tried to come up with an excuse as to why she was here alone. However, she relaxed a moment later when she saw who had stepped through the door.

"Why, is that me husband I see before me?" she teased, thrilled by the way the words tasted on her tongue.

"Through some unbelievable blessin' of fate, aye, it is," Lachlan replied. "Feelin' overwhelmed?"

She nodded. "I love our family dearly, and it fills me with joy they want tae celebrate us, but…"

"I understand," he told her, as she'd known he would. He cupped her cheek and tilted her head up for a kiss.

It started as just a peck, a gentle kiss to symbolize their affection for each other. But soon, it deepened into something more. Jocelyn's mind traveled back to that moment by the loch, when they'd held each other, when passion had overtaken her and she'd wanted nothing more than to have him. He'd pushed her away, scared of the barriers between them—but there were no barriers, not anymore.

Her arms wrapped around him as the kiss deepened, their mouths parting and tongues exploring. One of his hands rested on her back, and the other slipped downward, brushing the roundness of her buttocks through her dress. And then, suddenly, she felt her feet lift off the ground as he hoisted her up into his arms.

She yelped in playful surprise as their lips broke apart momentarily, but she wrapped her legs around his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him in to continue their kiss. He staggered slightly, then her back was against the wall, their bodies pressed tightly against one another.

Their mouths broke apart again, and his searing kisses moved down her throat. He kissed and nipped gently at the skin of her collarbone, and Jocelyn's whole body lit up in response, an eager gasp escaping her as new sensations flooded her, longing for more of his touch, all of him, here and now.

"Well," she whispered, then let out a pleased little moan as his hand squeezed her backside and he pressed harder against her, "It is our weddin' night. We could…"

Lachlan made a hungry noise deep in his throat, but he shook his head and, with some effort, lowered her to her feet. "Temptress," he told her, his eyes sparkling. "We cannae do this here."

"Where, then?" she replied, teasing in her tone, her chest aflutter and her body pulsing with a new kind of need.

She saw the effort it took for him to say, "Shouldnae we get back tae the party?"

Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Do ye want tae go back tae the party?"

Lachlan gazed at her for a moment, then broke out in a devilish grin. He held out his hand, and she took it, and together they hurried along the corridor, laughing breathlessly.

They barely made it through the door of the bedchamber before they were in each other's arms once more, kissing each other so fiercely that it stole the breath from Jocelyn. Her body was alight, her heart erratic, and all she wanted was more of him, all of him.

Her hands moved to the front of his shirt and she began to tug, trying to remove the distracting material from between them, to bring them even closer to one another. He noticed what she was doing and stopped kissing her for just a moment, gently circling her wrists with his large hands and staring into her eyes.

"Are ye sure ye're ready for this?" he murmured. "We dinnae need tae rush if ye're nae?—"

"Hush yer mouth," she told him, emphasizing her command with a swift kiss. "I've been waitin' for this, for ye. I'm more than ready. And ye ken it, too, or ye wouldnae have brought me tae yer bedchambers."

"Tae our bedchambers, Mistress McAndrew," Lachlan reminded her. He released her wrists and helped her with his shirt, revealing his bare torso with all of its old scars and the remains of the new injuries he'd faced so recently.

Jocelyn reached out her hand and, gently, traced the angry scar in his abdomen that had so nearly taken him from her. Each of these scars was part of him, a mark of who he was and what he could do—what he was willing to do to protect the ones he loved. Jocelyn's heart swelled with pride, and she leaned over and pressed her lips to his chest.

"Do ye ken how beautiful ye are?" she asked him. He raised an eyebrow, obviously about to make a joke, but she interrupted. It was important that he understood. "I dinnae mean bonnie like a lassie. I mean beautiful, truly beautiful, like the sunrise."

Something flickered in his eyes then, and he suddenly swept her up into his arms, lifting her in a bridal carry, and kissed her fiercely before laying her gently on the bed.

They didn't speak after that. They didn't have to.

Lachlan stood over her, and slowly unlaced her dress, pulling the bodice open until the cold air hit her exposed breasts and made her gasp. He lowered his head to kiss her again, then slowly made his way down her throat, her collar bone, and the swell of her breast, taking his time to pay attention to every inch of her skin. His free hand found gently rolled one nipple, pulling and teasing, while his mouth covered the other, causing a surge of lightning to shoot through her body.

She murmured his name, a tightness forming in her stomach, and she squirmed beneath his touch, occasionally letting a little gasp escape. And then his hands were fumbling at her waist, and soon her skirts fell away too, leaving her bare before him. She expected that he would enter her then, but instead he paused, moving back to look at her fully.

"Ye are radiant," he told her, and she could tell by the wonder in his voice that he meant every word. "And I want ye tae feel every bit of pleasure ye deserve."

He returned to kissing her skin, but now he knelt before her, pulling her legs so that she hung over the edge of the bed, and soon his lips and tongue found her most private spot.

She cried out at the sudden wave of excitement and heat that flowed over her, and as he kept going, one hand stretched out to cup her breast and the other gripping her tight while he worked, she felt something dark and hot building inside her, climbing and climbing, agonizing for a release.

"Lachlan, I…I… oh !"

The peak crashed over her like a wave on the shore, and she felt every muscle in her body tighten in intense, overwhelming pleasure. She called his name again, lost in the feeling, her hands gripping his hair and holding tight as she soared. And then her body relaxed, sinking down into the silken sheets, a warm glow making her feel like she was floating high in the air.

Panting, her chest heaving, she watched as he gently kissed her inner thighs, one after the other, then got to his feet to look down over her once more.

"How do ye feel?" he asked in a low, throbbing voice. She could hear the need pulsing within it, but also see how he was still holding back, still reining in his passion and desire until he was sure beyond a doubt that she was happy. She knew that if she wished for it, he would end this here and now, accepting his own lack of satisfaction so long as his new wife was happy.

God, she loved him.

Even though her body was still singing from the climax, she longed to feel more of his touch—and what was more, she desperately wanted to see the same pleasure she had just experienced on his face, wanting him to be as lost in bliss as she was now. She wanted them to be joined in every way, brought together beyond anything she had ever experienced and would only ever know with him. She wanted him to understand how much they now shared, in mind, in soul, and in body.

"We're nae done yet," she told him, her eyes wandering over his body. "Ye're mine, Lachlan—and I'm yers. What are ye afraid of?"

A low, needy growl sounded in his throat, and then he smiled—a true smile, one that seemed to brighten his whole body. "Nothin'," he said. "Nae anymore."

He loosened his kilt and let the wool drop to the floor, joining the fabric of her dress, and stood before her for a long moment. They savored each other then, just enjoying the fact they could be completely vulnerable with another person, both of them, at long long last.

Lachlan kissed her again, then gently moved her and positioned himself over her. When he entered her, slowly, it was the strangest, most exquisite feeling that Jocelyn had ever experienced. His hardness filled her, giving her new waves and ripples of excitement in her body, different even to those from before. When he began to move, slowly at first, she gasped, and the sound caused him to groan in turn.

His movements sped, and he leaned closer to her to kiss her again. Jocelyn's fingers dug into him, encouraging him to keep going, and their bodies danced together in a new yet strangely familiar dance, every thrust a new testament to love and pleasure and the connection between them. He moved faster, harder, and just as Jocelyn felt she couldn't take anymore, she felt it building again, similar but different from before. Her grip on him tightened, urging him not to stop, and when he whispered her name, she lost control again.

This time, when the pleasure washed over her, it was accompanied by a grunt as he reached that climax as well. When she came down again, he did too, his body settling on top of hers in a heavy, exhausted movement.

After a moment of them holding each other, he rolled off her. Both of them were breathing heavily, laying there side by side. Jocelyn turned to look at him soon after, a small smile playing on her face.

"Well," she said, "I think I'm goin' tae enjoy bein' married, if this is a hint of what's tae come."

He laughed. "I'll try tae keep up," he promised, rolling onto his side too. "I love ye, Jocelyn."

"And I ye. More than ye ken," she replied simply. "It willnae always be easy frae here on out."

"Nay," he agreed. "We'll have a lot tae face."

"But we'll face it," Jocelyn said. "And we'll always win. Because we'll face it together."