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“WHY IS IT that no one has ever told me about this?”

Brodie’s answering rumble of laughter made Greer raise her head. They sprawled naked together on the bed, their limbs tangled.

His gaze glinted as he grinned at her. “Ye make it sound as if folk have been keeping secrets.”

Greer propped herself up onto an elbow. “I feel like they have.”

Brodie inclined his head. “Surely, ye have listened to servants’ gossip over the years?”

“I have … and I once saw a stable lad and a serving lass coupling in the stables,” she confessed. “But I had no idea there was so much pleasure to be had.”

Still smiling, Brodie chucked her under the chin. “That was just the beginning, mo chridhe.”

Greer’s throat tightened, emotion swelling like the strains of a Highland pipe within her. He’d called her that while they were coupling.

My heart.

She couldn’t believe how quickly her life had changed. One moment, she’d resigned herself to an unhappy future, and the next, she was free and riding away with the man she loved.

And she did love him—with a fierceness that made her chest ache.

Brodie tenderly stroked her cheek, his smile fading. “I got a wee bit carried away … and was rougher than I intended. I didn’t hurt ye, did I?”

Greer shook her head. “Not at all.” She’d loved every moment of their union, and the way he’d taken control and guided her through it, showing her what her body was capable of, had been breathtaking. With Brodie, she’d just discovered a new kind of freedom.

She didn’t care if bruises came up on her hips from where he’d gripped her. She couldn’t wait to do it all again.

As if reading her thoughts, his lips curled at the edges. “Ye wish for more of the same, do ye?”

“Aye,” she whispered, need fluttering up. Her hand slid down his chest, to his stomach, before her fingers wrapped around his shaft.

He was already hard again, and she marveled at his rod’s strength and the velvet softness of the skin that sheathed it.

Brodie let out a soft groan and rolled onto his back. His member now stood up, tall and proud, like a flag, demanding her full attention.

Fascinated, Greer stroked him again.

“Fist it a little harder,” he growled. “Aye … like that.”

Greer watched his shaft grow bigger still under her grip. Taking his instruction, she slid her hand up and down its length, shuffling closer on her knees as heat and excitement throbbed between her thighs.

The crown of his rod started to leak then, and Greer gave a soft gasp.

She wondered what he’d taste like. She longed to find out.

Greer was leaning forward, intent on doing just that, when a sharp rap at the door made her jerk upright. Meanwhile, Brodie muttered a filthy oath.

“Yer supper!” a female voice announced.

Brodie awoke in the early hours of the morning. Greer still slept—snuffling gently against his shoulder, one small hand splayed across his chest—yet he didn’t disturb her. Instead, he was content to just lie there, enjoying the peace of this moment.

He’d never lain with a woman like this before.

Usually, once the swiving was done, he waited for an acceptable lull before making an excuse and untangling himself from his lover’s limbs.

The women he’d lain with hadn’t minded his quick departure—for he’d chosen them carefully. But with Greer, there was no leaving. He wished they could remain like this forever, locked in each other’s arms.

A fierce wave of protectiveness crashed over him then.

They’d been reckless, running away together and coupling before their actual wedding ceremony, but Brodie wasn’t giving her up. Especially not after tonight.

They belonged together.

He knew his rash actions would stir up a hornet’s nest. He’d stolen Greer away from under her betrothed’s nose, after all. Sutherland would come after his bride-to-be, as would Greer’s father.

Brodie’s jaw tightened. Let them.

Once they were wed and racing south, no one would catch them. Brèagha was as fleet as the North Wind, and even carrying two riders, she could outrun her pursuers.

However, as he lay there in the darkness, Brodie wondered how his actions would affect his family. Aye, his disappearance would help, yet it wouldn’t protect them entirely. There would still be bad blood between the Mackays and the Forbeses, and once Niel Mackay got wind of this, he’d be vexed.

Brodie’s gut hardened. Forgive me, Iver … but surely ye understand?

Greer murmured something then in her sleep, shifting against him.

Brodie’s mouth curved. He was a lucky man indeed. When they’d kissed in his forge that morning nearly a month earlier, he’d gotten a taste of Greer’s lusty side—but the way she’d responded to him tonight had driven him wild.

She’d been a maid yet was unafraid. Her trust in him, her willingness to shed any inhibition, had thrilled him.

After being interrupted by the tavern owner’s wife, who’d brought their supper, they’d donned clothing for a short spell and fallen upon their meal, ravenous.

However, afterward, they’d shed their garments once more and tumbled onto the bed to continue their exploration of each other.

Greer had indeed sucked his rod, as she’d been about to do before the knock on the door. She’d worked Brodie up into a frenzy before he’d pulled her astride him. She rode him then enthusiastically, her full breasts bouncing, her head thrown back in abandon.

He’d never seen anything bonnier, and his groin started to ache at the memory.

Christ’s teeth, he wanted her again . He’d never stop wanting her.

Greer was what had been missing in his life all these years.

He’d always felt as if he didn’t belong, ‘lesser’ in some way, yet in her presence, he was unstoppable.

The way she looked at him, the way she spoke to him.

She made him feel things that both scared and thrilled him.

Greer stirred against him and gave a soft yawn. “Is it morning yet?” she asked sleepily.

“Not quite yet, lass,” he whispered.

“I wish it was,” she murmured back. “I can’t wait to be yer wife.”

Brodie smiled, his fingertips trailing down the sweeping curve of her back. “And this time tomorrow, ye will be,” he promised.

“It’s been such a whirlwind,” she said then, her own hand tracing the lines of his chest. “I can hardly believe this is happening.”

“I know … although I never wanted to turn us into fugitives.”

She tensed against him. “Neither did I … but if we want to be together, then this is the only way.”

Her practicality eased a little of the tension inside him. He was relieved she had no regrets about what they’d done—not yet at least.

The regrets will come though , a nasty voice whispered to him. Once the excitement wears off. Greer could have wed a clan-chief’s son, yet instead settles for a blacksmith . How will ye give her the life she deserves?

Brodie’s breathing grew shallow. How he hated that voice. It was as if Sheena Mackay stood at his shoulder, judging his every move. His stepmother wanted to erode his self-worth, to make him feel like nothing, but he wouldn’t let her. Not this time.

“There’s so much we need to discover about each other,” Greer said after a pause, oblivious to the direction of his thoughts. “I mean … I don’t know what yer favorite food is, if ye prefer cats or dogs … or whether or not ye are ticklish.”

He snorted. “That’s easily remedied. Blood sausage. Dogs.”

She pushed herself up on an elbow, her features highlighted by the soft glow of the dying lantern on a nearby table. “And what of the last one … are ye ticklish?”

Brodie grinned, the shadow lifting off his soul as it always did when this woman spoke to him. “I don’t know … why don’t ye find out?”

Greer stepped out of the tavern into a clear, bright morning—one that promised a lovely day ahead.

Brodie was already there, with Brèagha saddled and ready to go.

Their gazes met, and Brodie smiled. “Ye look lovely.”

“Do I?” Greer reached up to check if her hair was still in place.

She’d done her best with it this morning, combing it with her fingers before pulling it back from her face in two slender braids as Inghinn sometimes did.

She’d also been out early onto the riverside and picked some daisies, which she’d worked into the braids.

She was glad Brodie approved.

“Aye,” he said warmly, holding out his hand. “Come, lass … let us get to the kirk.”

“Hopefully, the priest doesn’t tarry on his way home,” she murmured as he gave her a boost up into the saddle. “We can’t afford to wait around.”

“The tavern owner assures me that Father Donal will be holding a service mid-morning, so he is sure to be back early,” Brodie replied.

Greer nodded, a little of the nervous fluttering in her stomach easing.

Despite her excitement at becoming Brodie’s wife, she was on edge this morning. Like him, she wanted to keep moving. She was keen to begin their new life together. However, this would be their last chance to formalize their relationship until they emerged from the Cairngorms. They had to try.

Brèagha carried them away from the Donside Tavern , along the banks of the River Don itself, and up to where the kirk sat upon a green hill.

It was a lovely spot that afforded them a sweeping view of the river valley below and the village nestled amongst verdant farmland. A single yew tree grew next to the kirk, while to their backs rose the shadow of the mighty Cairngorms.

Brodie dismounted first before helping Greer down.

The kirk was still locked up, so they waited before the large oaken door.

The sun rose higher in the eastern sky, while Greer took a walk amongst the gravestones to the right of the kirk.

A pang darted through her chest then. She wished Bonnie and Inghinn were here with her, to share this happy moment. She hadn’t asked Brodie, yet she guessed he wanted his brothers to be present too—however, fate had intervened.

This wouldn’t be a lengthy celebration with hours of feasting and dancing afterward.

Greer continued to weave her way through the listing, lichen-encrusted gravestones. Her nervousness had wound tight now, and she couldn’t stand still. She kept shooting glances down the hill—and when she spied a small black-robed figure, her heart jolted.

“He’s here!” she called across to Brodie, picking up her skirts and hurrying back to where he waited.

Brodie grinned, relief flaring in his eyes. “Good.”