Page 25 of The Laird’s Guardian Angel (Highland Lairds #3)

24

T ime no longer existed for Calliope and Alistair. The sun rose, and they ignored it. A soft knock sounded on the door throughout the day, but whenever either of them, wrapped in a sheet, answered, it was only a tray of food for sustenance. They ate, they drank, and they fell back into bed until the sun set again.

They spent the entire day and night in their shared bedchamber and according to Alistair, he would have remained there for another day, week, or year. But after two days, Calliope insisted they come out, else her clan—and her father—no longer looked upon her the same. They'd made love countless times and explored each other so thoroughly Calliope thought Alistair might know her body better than she knew her own.

Upon their entry to the great hall, they were greeted with cheers and whistles from the Ramsey clan, her husband's men, and her father. Calliope's face flamed so hot that she was certain to burst into a fiery blaze that sparked enough to light the nearest hearth.

"Glad ye finally decided to grace us with your presence," her father teased, and Calliope almost ran back up the stairs.

But Alistair only chuckled and winked down at her. "Dinna fash, love, 'tis to be expected."

With her mother having often been so critical, it was going to take a lot for her to get used to not being ashamed and to understand a good tease. Alaric Ramsey rose on shaky legs, using the cane that one of his men had fashioned for him, and approached her and Alistair.

Her father tugged her in for a hug, also something she'd not received often from her mother. "I love ye, lass. I'm so glad that ye're happy. If I could turn time around…"

"Oh, Papa," Calliope said. "Do not fill your mind with regrets and what-ifs. We are here together now, and you are alive. We've both been given another chance at life and with me being just across your lands in Sinclair territory, we will see each other often. There will be plenty of time to catch up and to be grateful for those precious moments we've been gifted."

Her father's eyes softened, watered. "How did ye become so wise?"

Calliope smiled. "I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

"Am I the tree?" he asked.

She laughed. "Aye, and no one can cut you down."

"Certainly no' an Englishman."

Calliope hugged her father once more, faint memories of him having done so when she was a child filtering warmly back into her mind.

They ate their supper in jovial camaraderie. The stark contrast between how her life had been for years and now was enough to make Calliope pause and reflect. She'd never known what she was missing. And now she couldn't imagine not having a meal without rowdy conversation and laughter. How had she survived so many years in formal, disciplined silence?

"Cousin," Hugh said from down the long trestle table. "I dinna know if ye recall, but it is I who taught ye to climb. Fancy a challenge?"

Calliope laughed, setting down her eating knife and leaning forward on her elbows on the table. "What sort of challenge? For you see, cousin, I have moved on from trees to scaling walls."

"Nay," Alistair boomed. "Nay, nay, nay. Ye canna climb any more walls."

"Do you forbid it?" she contested.

Alistair chuckled. "Forbid ye from doing something? Nay, I would never. Ye'd only make it your purpose to do it all day."

"This is true."

"I merely beg mercy, for if I were to watch ye scale another wall, I'd die of heart failure."

"Then perhaps you should remain at the bottom to catch me."

Alistair groaned. "Fine. But can ye at least grant me the mercy of making it a short wall?"

Calliope grinned mischievously. "What is short to some is tall to others."

Alistair pressed his forehead into his hands with mock exaggeration.

"Wait," Hugh said. "I'm no' certain I'm prepared to scale a wall."

"Without a rope," Calliope added.

"Aye, no' at all." Hugh shook his head.

"I'll teach you," she promised with a nod.

"Perhaps we shall wait on our wager."

"Why no' a tree then?" Ramsey suggested. "Hugh, if ye're to be my heir, ye canna retreat from a challenge."

The conversation continued until it was decided that they'd climb trees on the morrow, and whoever reached the top first won. The prize was any horse from Ramsey's stable, and Calliope knew just the one she wanted.

After supper, there was more dancing, storytelling, and a few games of bones. Alistair kept hinting they should leave, and while her body begged her to let him whisk her up the stairs and fill the rest of her night with pleasure, Calliope insisted they wait until nearly the last of the Ramseys and Sinclairs had gone to bed before retiring, fearful everyone would find her to be entirely too eager to bed her husband.

Which she was. Every glance, every touch—including his hand on her thigh while she supped—was enough to drive her mad.

Calliope beat Hugh three times out of three on the tree climb the following morning and claimed her horse. A dappled mare she named Serena II.

Nearly a sennight of marital bliss passed before Alistair asked if she was ready to return to his castle so his own clan might celebrate their marriage. His patience had been much appreciated by her since she'd been enjoying getting to know her father again. Alistair was so incredibly thoughtful and did not have a selfish bone in his body. Calliope had her trunks packed and handed over the reins to her cousin Hugh within an hour.

The hardest part was leaving her father. He was healing well, a robust warrior who didn't seem to notice his own age. She hugged him tight, with promises from them both to visit often.

She hugged Gregor and Bessie goodbye and thanked them all for welcoming her with open arms.

Serena II was saddled, but Calliope chose to ride with her husband, not yet ready to be apart. The ride to Dunbais was quite different than the last time Calliope had ridden with Alistair. For one, she was no longer afraid. Blissfully married, in the arms of her husband. Every time she shifted on the horse, this time around, he told her exactly what she was doing to him. Whispering naughty things in her ear that made her want to shove him into the woods and out of earshot of his men while she ravished him—which she did exactly thrice.

When they finally arrived at Dunbais, both were flushed and disheveled, and his men couldn't wait to get away from them.

As she'd come to know him, the clan elder, Augie, greeted them with a wide smile. "I never thought we'd see this lad wed."

"I'm your laird, no' a lad," Alistair said, and though his voice was stern, there was a little curve to his lip that belied his irritation.

"All the same, it appears ye've been conquered by a lass. Our fierce and mighty Sinclair."

"I'd say we conquered each other," Calliope said with a wink in Alistair's direction. And she planned to conquer him again in about five minutes.

Calliope and Alistair were sequestered in their chamber less than an hour later. Alistair had ordered them a steaming bath and a meal, which had been delivered swiftly: a table full of sliced apples, bread, cheese, and roasted chicken.

"Are ye hungry, lass?" Alistair asked.

Calliope grinned. "Not for food."

"And the bath?" he asked. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, and all she could do was imagine what it would be like to sink beneath the surface, their bodies sliding over one another.

"Aye, that sounds divine."

Steam rose from the bath, which one of the maids had sprinkled with dried lavender.

They stripped each other down, and once Alistair was in the shallow tub, water, barely covering his knees, he held out his hand to her. She stepped gingerly into the scented warmth, sinking down onto his lap. The tub was overlarge, one that Alistair had ordered made after spending too many years cramped in a wooden barrel to wash. And yet, the water had not been filled, and she rather liked that for what she had in mind.

"Are ye happy, lass?" Alistair asked.

"Beyond happy," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Alistair tipped her chin for a sensual kiss. They gently washed each other between kisses, and she was sure to be careful of Alistair's shoulder, which had healed into a pink scar.

"Promise me every day will be like this," she asked.

"I can promise ye that every day we're together 'twill be like this."

She nodded, knowing there would be times when they were apart. There was no use in pretending that Alistair was not the border guardian, and they lived in hostile times. But she was more than happy to accept that the moments of bliss they would have together would be full of joy.

"When do you have to leave?" she asked.

"No' for some time, lass. I promise."

As a gift, her father had made a deal with Alistair that he would take the next several rounds of border protection at the castle on the River Tweed, which meant they had nearly two months before then. And really, that wasn't something she wanted to think about now. She'd much rather enjoy the pleasure this bath was affording her—and the pleasure she knew her husband could give her.

Calliope's thighs quivered as she turned in Alistair's arms to straddle his hips, the hardness of his shaft pressing enticingly to the bundle of firing nerves in her core. With a boldness she'd grown to embrace, she gripped his length, stroking his hardness, relishing his moans of pleasure and the way his hips jerked in rhythm with her hand.

The desire to taste him was nearly overwhelming. To give him the same rapture his mouth had given her. Calliope shifted back to kneel between his knees.

"What are ye doing, lass?" Alistair's eyes heavily lidded, watching her.

Calliope grinned, feeling like a seductress. "I want to taste you. Remember when you said next time… But you never did let me."

Alistair's eyes widened then, and he sat up a little taller. "Aye..."

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, husband."

"I willna stop ye." His voice was gruff and so full of sensuality that Calliope shivered.

Calliope stared down at his shaft, thick and hard, and licked her lips. She glanced up at her husband with a sultry gaze as she lowered her head, pressing her lips to the tip of his masculinity.

Alistair groaned and threaded his fingers gently through her hair, a gentle massage that silently begged for more. The skin of his arousal was hot, soft against her mouth.

Calliope flicked her tongue out over the tip, swirling around and around, recalling vividly all the various moves he'd used on hers. She licked him up and down, all the while stroking with her fingers. As his moans and gentle pushes grew more insistent, she opened her mouth and took him inside, all the way to the base.

The primal moan that came from Alistair's mouth was enough to make Calliope's entire body shudder. Between her thighs pulsed, and embers of pleasure lit throughout her limbs. She'd not expected that making love to Alistair with her mouth would fill her with so much desire, need, want.

"Och, wife," he growled. "That feels so good. I need ye to stop. Please…"

"Mmm…" she moaned around his turgid flesh, grinning with an intoxicating power. Not on his life.

"Lass," the word was a hiss and his grip on her hair pushed and pulled as if he couldn't make up his mind. "Please, I want…"

He moaned again and, this time, succeeded in pulling himself out of her mouth.

Alistair lifted her from the tub and carried her over his shoulder toward the bed with a playful smack on her bare behind, then tossed her onto the coverlet.

Calliope erupted in laughter as she fell to the soft mattress, but the moment Alistair spread her thighs and crawled up her body like a man on a sensual mission, her laughter turned to a whimper of pleasure.

"I love you," she whispered as his mouth settled on hers.

Alistair was all strength, hardness, and pleasure as he pressed his body to hers. "I love ye too," he declared as he thrust home.

Calliope was never going to grow tired of hearing those words. Never tired of her husband desiring her. Never tired of him wanting to give her every ounce of pleasure he could until her entire body was wrung out. The love she had in her heart swelled her entire chest to the point where she sometimes felt she couldn't breathe, that she might just burst from happiness.

With her arms around his neck, she pulled his mouth to hers and gave him all the love she had with her kiss. Their lovemaking was a slow, deliberate pleasure. Alistair kissed her mouth and then her neck, breasts, fingertips. There was not an inch of her left untouched, not a part of her that did not sing for more of his kiss, more of this pleasure.

To think, to know that every night and every day was going to be filled with Alistair, gave Calliope such hope for her future. Before now, she'd been certain that she was going to be chattel, sold to Bryce, or the next highest bidder. A woman who would host dinners, attend court, and produce heirs. Nothing of her own, not even to herself.

But now, all of that had changed. She'd escaped that life to find Alistair, and in turn, he had given up a life of loneliness, betting on her and happiness together.

As their bodies soared to new heights of pleasure and they whispered words of love, the world around them faded. Their love was all-consuming, as if they had risen to another plane just by being together.

When the pleasure grew to be too intense, and the need for release had them both frenzied for satisfaction, Alistair increased his pace. She met him thrust for thrust, tilting her hips until they were both crying out in rapture.

Sated, sweaty, and smiling, they curled into each other's embraces, waiting to return to earth.

Calliope traced a heart on Alistair's chest, smiling as she did so. "I think I am the happiest woman in the world."

"And I am the happiest man. Especially since ye promised no' to climb any more walls." He grinned teasingly.

Calliope issued a mocking gasp. "I promised no such thing."