Page 64 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy

Ramsay looked horrified. “My god, woman!” he cried. “You are insatiable.” Then he laughed. “We men take a while to recover, my love.” He stood up and walked over to pour them a glass of wine from the glass on one of the tables, and Ailsa drank in the sight of his long powerful legs, muscular backside, and broad shoulders.

Ramsay handed her a glass, smiling lovingly at her. She was so adorable with her tousled hair and her lips swollen from his kisses that he could barely wait for his body to be ready for her again.

Ailsa took the glass from him and began to sip her wine. “I never want to leave this bed,” she whispered.

Ramsay chuckled. “That is rather impractical,” he remarked.

“What a pity,” Ailsa said, sighing.

They lay in comfortable silence for another short while, then Ailsa raised herself on one elbow and looked down at her husband, smiling. “Are you ready yet?” she asked a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Ready for what?” he asked, pretending not to know. “This?” He rolled her over on the bed and pinned her down, holding both her hands over her head in one of his, then thrust into her again. This time it was not gentle, but Ailsa did not want gentleness; she wanted to be taken hard and furiously so that every nerve in her body felt the friction of his skin and the rough pressure of his hands roaming all over her.

When the moment came, her climax was titanic, and she guessed by Ramsay’s hoarse shout of triumph that his had been equally so. After they had both floated back to earth, they lay in a delicious languor for a while till they both began to drift off to sleep.

“I love you so much. Mistress Ailsa Ormond,” Ramsay said drowsily.

Ailsa smiled at his first use of her new name. “I love you too, husband,” she replied. “And when we wake up I will prove it to you—again.”

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