Page 40 of The Rightful Highland King (The Last Celtic King #4)

Cailean performed a handfasting, then Darren let go of Nessa's hand and moved briefly to the side, returning with a shawl in Bruce tartan that his father had kept for him. He returned and asked her to turn. She did, and he placed the shawl around her shoulders, sealing their bond.

"It was me mother's," he whispered in her ear. "And now it's yers. It's what she would have wanted, I ken it. Welcome tae the family, Nessa Bruce."

Nessa let the tears flow at that, and she saw that Breana and several others were crying happy tears as well. Maeve's eyes were shining as she smiled. When Cailean said that they could now kiss, he had barely gotten the words out when Nessa threw herself into Darren's arms.

At last—at long, long last—she was home.

Nessa stepped away from the dancing area and toward the table that held the drinks, gasping for breath.

She'd been dancing wildly all night, and her feet hurt.

Ansel had been a particularly enthusiastic partner, much to everyone's surprise, swinging her around with carefree laughter while Neala danced with Darren and laughed.

Nessa had now danced with almost every man present, moving from her husband to Cailean to Ansel, then from Eoin to her many new cousins to her new father-in-law, each one getting progressively more merry as the night went on and the wine flowed, and while her cheeks were flushed and her heart was full, she needed a moment to breathe.

Darren found her there just a few moments after she stopped. "Tired already?" he asked her with a grin. He'd been a menace of a dancer, too, creating laughter and joking indignation from most of the women there. "Ye've nae half the grit of me last dance partner, wife."

Nessa felt a little thrill at the word and rolled her eyes. "Och, I ken, but how am I tae compete with her loveliness? Look, now she's charmed Fergus as well."

She nodded toward the dancing area, where Fergus now held little Mary in his arms and was swinging her around while she roared with laughter, just as Darren had been doing moments before.

Darren put his hands over his heart. "Betrayed by me own new niece!" he announced. "Who will keep me company now?"

She snorted. "Ye're still daft, then, after a year away from me."

"I should hope so," Darren replied, sounding highly offended at the question. "Ye wouldnae have married me if I wasnae so daft."

Nessa shook her head and took his hand. "Come, then, husband, let's enjoy our last night at McNair Castle in peace before ye take me home on the morrow. We've entertained our guests enough."

He tilted his head as though he was thinking about it. "Oh?" he asked. "And where will we go? A stroll by the lake, perhaps?"

She led him toward a side door, taking care not to be noticed by the celebrators. "Nay, I dinnae think so."

"A jaunt in the gardens, then? I suppose we could still see the flowers even in the dark," Darren suggested.

"Are ye gonnae simply tease me all night?" Nessa asked. They reached the door and headed through it, the sudden quiet of the corridor compared to the raucousness of the feast almost jarring. She stood enjoying it for just a moment before pulling at his arm to lead him along the hallway.

Darren laughed. "I might. Would ye like that?"

"Ye ken very well what I would like," Nessa replied with faux irritation.

They rounded the corner and Nessa gasped in surprise as they almost walked directly into Ann. The young woman blushed at the sight of them, but Ferda, who was pushing the chair, grinned at them.

"Sneakin' away from the celebrations, are we?" Ferda asked, giving her cousin that look of sibling-like mischief.

"Seems we werenae the only one with that idea," Darren replied. "Where have ye two been?"

Ann cleared her throat. "The garden," she replied, indicating a pretty bundle of flowers which rested on her lap. "Ferda wanted tae show me the winter blooms."

"I imagine ye want tae show yer new wife some things too," Ferda said innocently.

"Hush," Ann and Nessa said at the same time.

Ferda and Darren both laughed, and the cousins embraced. "Congratulations again, ye daftie," Ferda told him. "Dinnae mess this up."

"I dinnae intend tae," Darren replied. "Go back tae the party and keep them distracted, will ye?"

"We'll go back tae the party," Ferda agreed, "But I'll tell them the bride and groom have gone tae celebrate their first night together. I'm sure they'll understand."

She and Ann left, Ann lightly scolding her and Ferda chuckling. Darren snorted and took Nessa's hand again.

As they started walking again, Nessa asked, "Does yer family always have tae tease each other in such a way?"

"It's yer family too, now," Darren replied.

They reached their room some minutes later, and as soon as the door closed behind them, the air changed.

One look was all it took for Nessa's mood to change from amused to excited, and the fire that had been dormant within her all this time unspooled again with a burning glee.

They moved to each other without another word and fell into each other's arms. Darren gripped Nessa's waist and she leaned against him as they lost themselves in the kind of kiss that steals breath away, the world vanishing, their tongues and hands exploring as they stumbled across the room without stopping for air.

Collapsing on the bed, they finally broke apart, though Darren's hands still roamed across her back and Nessa was already loosening the ties at the front of his shirt.

"Do ye think," she asked in that brief pause for air, "that they really believe that?"

Darren rolled, pushing Nessa onto her back and straddling his legs on either side of her.

He leaned down and kissed her neck, moving to her earlobe unhurriedly, his hands now undoing her bodice.

"Believe what?" he hummed in her hear, the vibrations of his voice sending a tingle down Nessa's whole body.

"Believe that it's our first night together," Nessa managed to reply, though words were getting more difficult as his lips and hands grew more insistent.

Darren's throaty chuckle made Nessa's body throb. Her bodice fell away, and Darren leaned back, helping her to sit up so they could remove the top layer of her clothing more easily. Left in only her thin shift, she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted it away in kind.

"Who cares what they believe?" Darren asked, returning to his position and to his work.

His kisses found the hollow of her throat and his hands worshipped her almost-bare breasts.

Nessa's eyes fluttered at the sensation of him, every kiss something brand new, every touch a revelation.

She ran her fingers along his spine, causing him to groan in a way that made her body pulse again.

"It's been a year since I saw ye. And ye're me wife.

I dinnae care about anythin' except here and now.

I've dreamed of ye every minute I was away. "

He pushed the top of her shift down, exposing her chest. His lips found her nipple, and he rolled it in his tongue, causing Nessa to gasp and her hips to jerk. She grabbed his hair as he tasted her, pulling a little too hard, but that only seemed to make him more enthusiastic.

By the time he had paid attention to her whole chest, Nessa's breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps.

When he pulled away and stood, she almost whimpered in disappointment at the sudden cold lack of him, but that need turned to hunger as she watched him loosen his kilt.

It fell away, leaving him bare before her—her Darren, her husband —staring down at her like she was the rarest treasure he'd ever seen.

Nessa sat up, and Darren moved, helping her remove the shift in one swift movement, removing the last layer between them.

Their bodies connected, skin to skin, in a passionate wave of heat and love, the indescribable feeling of togetherness almost too much to bear.

Nessa moaned as Darren kissed her hard, crushing her against his chest, the heat pulsing from his body in the same wild cadence as her own desire.

When she reached down and touched him, he groaned in such a deep, primal manner that Nessa almost came undone then and there.

Darren pushed her gently until she lay fully on the bed, then positioned himself before her.

He leaned down and kissed her again, and she raised her hips to meet him as he entered her, their bodies keeping time with a perfect harmony.

They moved together through the night, lips brushing skin wherever they could reach, hands traversing each other's bodies like they simply could not drink enough of the other in.

Their hips bucked in tandem, and their breathing matched pace, quick and urgent and gasping.

The thrusts grew harder, more demanding, and Nessa met them with calls of Darren's name as her legs locked around his waist, needing him closer to her, needing all of him.

The dance quickened, and Darren leaned back, his arms on either side of Nessa's head as he looked down at her, occasionally gasping out her name or muttering how beautiful she was. Nessa's fingernails pressed into his back, urging more, more.

The climax hit all at once like the crescendo of the finest symphony, and Nessa's cry of pleasure was a song.

Her muscles tensed, and her legs squeezed hard, her fingers digging in so tightly that she may have left marks.

She cried out his name once more, the utter sensation threatening to pull her under.

Somewhere in the noise, she felt the heat and heard the grunt that told her he was joining her there, too.

Nessa sank back into reality like a feather settling on silk. Her body relaxed, every nerve tingling with pleasure, and she opened her eyes when Darren flopped forward atop her. They lay there like that for a moment, utterly content.

They rolled apart after some time, but only to readjust themselves. Soon, Nessa lay with her head on Darren's chest, his fingers gently running up and down her arm.

"Welcome home," she said softly. "Welcome back tae our new Scotland. It's brighter now ye're here."

"It was waitin' for us," Darren replied. "And now we're ready tae build this whole new world. Together."

"Ye really are useless with a knife," Neala observed, laughing slightly as Ansel threw the little dagger at the target and missed once more. "I've been tryin' tae train ye for a year. What happened tae me fearsome warrior?"

Ansel gave her a look of faux reproach, but amusement glinted in his eyes. "I fight men face tae face, sword tae sword. Me style doesnae lend itself tae precise targetin' from a distance, unlike yers, me wee spy. And me head is still swimmin' from the wine, which isnae helpin'."

Neala grinned, hopping down from the half-wall where she'd been perched and moving toward the weapons rack.

In the moonlight, the various blades and spikes glinted dangerously, and Neala gently ran a finger along the handle of one of the knives.

"Sounds like an excuse tae me. I've had just as much wine, and I'm fine. "

He chuckled. "Ye're as merry as I am," he teased. "Ye were singin' just moments ago. Even ye couldnae?—"

His words were cut off as Neala grabbed the knife and, with just a single glance at the target, threw it. He watched it sail through the night and stab directly into the center.

Ansel laughed, approaching and grabbing Neala around the waist. She squealed with delight as he pulled her close to him. Even after a year, feeling her pressed against him like this was the most bizarre and amazing thing. He still didn't understand how she was his.

"Ye're a menace," he told her. "And I think the wine has only made ye more so. Did ye only convince me tae sneak away from the weddin' tae prove yer superior skills? What if we offend the bride and groom?"

Neala giggled and stretched up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss against the tip of her husband's nose. "Please. Darren and Nessa willnae even notice we're gone. And besides, as I pointed out tae the lassies earlier, we didnae really get a proper weddin' celebration."

Frowning, Ansel asked, "Is that somethin' that upsets ye?"

She touched his cheek. "Well, as Maeve rightly reminded me, I would have hated all the fuss. But this? Me and ye on the battlefield, a year after we found each other at last? That feels like the kind of marriage celebration that fits."

"Ah," Ansel said, letting go of her to tap his chin in pretend thought. "So ye brought me out here tae mock me failures as an expression of love ."

"Exactly!" Neala replied brightly.

She reached for another knife, but Ansel caught her wrist, pulling her close again. He could feel her pulse racing as she looked up at him, and his own body stirred in response.

"Ye wouldnae be so smug if it was a competition of swordsmanship. I have it on good authority that ye've been skippin' those lessons yer whole life," Ansel told her. He tucked her hair behind her ear with his free hand and leaned down to whisper. "It seems I beat ye after all."

She shivered and tilted her head back a little. "Well," she replied, "it seems like we each have a skill where we excel. This competition will have to be settled in some other way."

"Oh?" Ansel asked, applying a little more pressure to the grip on her arm. "What did ye have in mind? I have many talents, ye ken."

Neala suddenly moved, surprising him as she slipped out of his grasp. Before he could protest, she had pounced, throwing herself at him. He fell backward against the surprise attack, and soon they were play-wrestling in the grass, laughing wildly.

At last, Nessa had him pinned, and Ansel declared his surrender. She beamed and leaned down to give him a deep, lingering kiss.

"Some talents," she reminded him, "can always use a little more practice."

Ansel stared up at her, enraptured by her beauty framed against the night sky—this impossible woman, this spy, this princess, who had agreed to be his wife and saved him forever. "Aye?" he asked. "Well, then. Let ye be me teacher."

She grinned. "Gladly," she replied as she leaned down to kiss him again.

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