Page 62 of The MacGalloways: Books #1-3

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C harity donned a simple dress for the wedding—no feathers, no extravagant sleeves. It was of white muslin, with whitework embroidery on the bodice, depicting wheat and eyelets. She also wore a single strand of pearls. Over her shoulder she wore a tartan MacGalloway sash.

The Earl of Brixham had never looked more handsome, wearing the suit of clothes he’d purchased in London, shiny Hessian boots and all—even his necktie was starched and straight.

Together they recited their vows in front of the people who meant the most to them, in the small family chapel in the oldest part of the fortress. A kaleidoscope of colors coming from the stained-glass window above the altar danced across them. The service was lovely and heavenly, and Charity recited her vows, gazing into the warm hazel eyes of her hero.

Afterward, the Stack Castle kitchens provided a feast fitting for King George himself—fifteen courses in all. And Charity reveled in each one, feeling as if she were floating upon a cloud of perfect bliss. She hadn’t simply married a member of the ton , she’d married a man she’d grown to respect as a tradesman, a brother, a son, and a man who wasn’t afraid to fight for those dearest to him.

As with all feasts, the meal came to a gradual end, and after the apricot blancmange, Martin stood and raised his glass. “It is not every day a man meets an earl who is also a butcher as well as a boxer. And it is not every day a duke welcomes such a man into his family. Brixham, I’m certain you have gathered how dear to me my sister is, but I’ll wager she hasna explained the extent of it. Aye, we all ken she has a benevolent heart, fitting her namesake, but if it werena for Charity’s wise words when I was courting Julia, I might not have realized how deeply I had fallen in love with my wife or how perfectly we are suited.” Martin shifted his gaze to the duchess. “With that said, Julia insisted she rise from her bed and join us today, but must soon retire. Before she does, my wife has asked to say a few words.”

Charity sipped her sweet wine as the duchess rose and clasped her hands. “As you all are aware, Martin gave Huntly Manor to me as a wedding gift, more to keep the estate in the family and out of the hands of a moneylender, whom we will not mention again. My dream for the estate was to turn it into a home for young, disparaged ladies. Yesterday, Charity asked me if we might allow her and Brixham to be caretakers of the home, since it is so very important to have a kindhearted and compassionate person in charge. But Martin and I have a better idea.”

Julia sipped her glass of water and smiled warmly. “Might I mention that, thanks to the discovery efforts of Mr. Anstruther, Harold Mansfield and I both share a third great-grandfather, thus we are fourth cousins and decidedly family. It is my great joy as the Duchess of Dunscaby to give you Huntly Manor as a wedding present, with only one proviso—that you continue to run the house by welcoming a few young ladies to take refuge under her roof.”

Martin stood and joined her, looking directly at Harry. “This is a wedding gift, and you are not allowed to refuse, sir. I will see my sister happy and content, living in a home suitable for a countess.” He again raised his glass. “To the Earl and Countess of Brixham!”

Everyone followed suit, even Modesty and Kitty, who were allowed to join the adults in the dining hall upon Charity’s insistence.

She inclined her lips to Harry’s ear. “Will this meet with your approval, m’lord?”

He gave her a nod, then raised his glass to the couple at the far end of the table. “Duke and Duchess, we heartily thank you. I know Charity is ever so fond of Huntly, and comfortable there. I hope in time we will not only care for the residents within her walls, but we will add to it a thriving family.”

After surviving fifteen courses, Harry was relieved to have the feast come to an end. And though it was only seven o’clock at night, he was ever so glad to be alone in Charity’s bedchamber, which was larger than his rooms above the shop.

The servants had left a tray of cheeses and bread, and had uncorked a bottle of burgundy. He gestured to the pair of glasses. “Would you like a spot of wine?”

Charity sauntered toward him, releasing the brooch at her shoulder, and slowly pulling away her tartan sash. “First…” She dropped both brooch and sash onto a chair.

“Hmm?” he asked, while the longing he’d been suppressing ever since Andrew had arrived at Huntly Manor surged through him.

“I want you to make love to me.”

Harry’s knees buckled. His thighs trembled. He slipped his fingers into the arced neckline of her bodice and pulled her closer. “Those words are like elixir to my spirit,” he whispered, nibbling her neck. “I have a need to be inside you.”

Charity’s hands shook as she unfastened the buttons on his coat and shoved it from his shoulders. He clamped his mouth over hers and devoured her, searching for the laces along her back.

“Shall I ring for Georgette?” she breathlessly asked.

He took a step away and urged her to turn. “That shan’t be necessary. I may be an earl, but I haven’t forgotten how to unlace a gown and stays.”

Though his hands trembled with his need to move quickly, he pulled the cord through the dozens of eyelets on her gown, then all but ripped the stays from her body, casting them to the floor.

Wearing only her shift, Charity turned and raised the hem scandalously high, revealing pink stockings tied with blue ribbons. “Will you be so kind, m’lord?”

Harry didn’t need to be asked twice. The shift sailed over her head as he dropped to his knees and pulled the ribbons, turning his face to the nest of glorious auburn curls and the heady fragrance that made him harder than a bedpost. He didn’t care where the stockings landed as he lapped her.

Charity’s thighs shuddered with her wanton sigh. She swirled her hips as he tasted her. “I need to see you naked.”

Those words made his cock slip completely out of his smalls. Within three ticks of the mantel clock, his shirt was gone, his boots, stockings, and breeches were somewhere across the bedchamber and his smalls ended up on the washstand.

Once they were completely naked, their lips fused, their bodies crushed together as in a frenzy while their hands explored, rubbing, caressing. Harry backed her toward the bed and cupped her ample breasts, then reverently slid his fingers along the curve of her waist, willing himself to regain a modicum of control.

“You are a goddess to be worshiped,” he growled, pulling her against his erection. The fervor started again while he sank his fingers into her luscious, soft bottom, his eyes crossing as she rubbed against him. Rocking his hips forward, he bit his lip and pressed harder, until his thighs shuddered. “I want you so badly I’ll not last long.”

“I want you now. I need you this verra instant!”

In one motion, he swept her onto the mattress. Exquisite auburn hair sprawled across the pillow, her body lithe, naked, and prone to him. She was a gift to worship for the rest of his days, the mere sight of her arrested his breath. He would do anything for this woman—anything to protect her, to have and hold her for the rest of his days.

His wife’s beauty enraptured him, seduced him, rendered him at a complete loss for words. Damnation, if his cock met the slightest friction, it would erupt. After slipping beside her, Harry teased her nipple with his tongue, worshiping her, on the very verge of losing himself in her.

Charity writhed, her hands first cupping her breasts, then sliding down her belly and into the nest of red curls. “This is where I need you.”

“God save me,” he growled, climbing over her. Using his knees to spread her legs, he slid his finger along her core. “You have bewitched me, and I am under your spell for all eternity.”

Rocking back on his haunches, Harry licked her. With a feral moan, Charity thrust her hips forward while he swirled his tongue around her sensitive button.

“Och,” she cried, arching into him.

“Och aye,” he teased, sliding a finger inside.

“I am the one who has been bewitched. You and your wicked tongue!”

Chuckling, his cock leaking seed, he slid his finger faster while his tongue relentlessly licked.

Charity’s breathing sped until her body stiffened with a gasp. She arched up then cried out and came undone in his mouth.

Clenching his gut against his urge to release his seed, Harry continued to lick until her breathing ebbed.

“You are a fiend,” she said, laughing as she pushed up on her elbows. “We have not yet joined.”

He coaxed her back to the mattress, giving her a devilish grin. “Then we must remedy that at once, wife.”

“You are the world to me,” Charity whispered, urging Harry to nestle between her legs.

“And now you are mine forever,” he said, cupping her cheek. “You are an angel come to life.”

“And you are my hero. Do you mind me calling you ‘hero’ from time to time?”

“Not if you truly mean in it,” he throatily whispered while the thick column of his manhood jutted between her thighs. The pull of wanting filled her again. But this time, she needed him inside her.

She moved against him, showing him what she wanted. “I will always mean it.”

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, his member sliding inside just a wee bit.

“Och aye, my love, och aye.”

Slowly, they joined. There was no pain this time, only pure bliss. Harry filled and stretched her, caressing the spot that would send her to the stars. And though she knew her husband was dangling on a ragged edge, he did not rush. But as they kissed and explored each other, the tempo increased.

Higher their passion mounted. And when Charity bucked against him, he toppled off the edge into a wild storm of passion. Every inch of her skin craved more until she froze at the pinnacle of ecstasy. In one earth-shattering burst, she shattered around him. With his guttural roar, he thrust deep and spilled within her, his entire body shaking.

When at last the frenzy ebbed, Harry gazed into her eyes and swept the damp locks from her face. “I am yours to command, my countess.”

“I only have one command for you this night.” Giggling, she cupped his face and kissed him. “You must make love to me over and over again, until we are too weak and collapse into blissful slumber.”