Chapters (40)
- Cover
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Epilogue
- Dedication
- Excerpt from In Bed with a Highlander
- Other Books by This Author
She frowned but kept her eyes shut. So what if she wasn’t as other women? She wasn’t lacking. Nor was she less. She was simply … different. Aye, she was different and a good man would celebrate those differences. If Caelen McCabe couldn’t appreciate his wife the way she was, then he could sit on his sword and have a good spin.
The room was suspiciously warm. And the bed was softer and more luxurious than what she was accustomed to. She was aware that something was entirely different, but she couldn’t force herself awake long enough to take stock of the situation.
Determined not to ruin a perfectly good dream, she snuggled deeper into the warm haven and sighed.
A soft chuckle intruded on her euphoria just as a lingering brush along the swell of her breast sent a shiver racing through her belly.
Her breast? She’d gone to bed with them bound. Indeed, she hadn’t undressed. She’d fallen into bed fully clothed and had been asleep in a matter of minutes.
She cracked one eye open to see her husband undressing a mere foot from where she lay. She wasn’t in her chamber. Nor was she in her father’s. Best she could tell she was in one of the chambers reserved for honored guests. Not that there had ever been many of those at the McDonald keep.
Rather than bolt upward and demand how she’d gotten from her chamber to here, she silently observed Caelen as he removed his tunic.
His back was to her and his muscles rippled as he pulled the material over his head and tossed it aside. He spent a moment stretching before he began to divest himself of his trews.
Her cheeks burned when his buttocks came into view. Hard but with enough shape to appeal to her feminine senses. Paler than the rest of his body and supported by two tree trunks for legs. There wasn’t a spare inch of flesh anywhere that she could see. All tight muscles, hair roughened and dark.
She shivered again but it had naught to do with being cold.
He was a beautiful warrior. All that a woman like herself admired. Not perfect. But beautiful still.
Scars ran the length of his body, from his ankles to his nape. She found herself eager to explore each of them with her fingers and her … mouth.
Would he enjoy the same attentions as he’d given her on their wedding night? The idea of kissing and tasting him so intimately tightened areas of her body that didn’t bear mentioning.
She glanced down, once again cognizant of the fact that she was naked. Not a single stitch of clothing remained.
The furs felt sensual against her bare skin. Her entire body was in a state of heightened sensitivity. Her nipples were hard points, thrusting upward as if begging for her husband’s mouth.