Then he was on her, covering her with his big, hard body, pushing into her.

“Gentle later,” she panted. “Hard and fast now.”

As ever, her sexy Highlander was only too willing to oblige.

Much later, heads close together, hands entwined, they borrowed Maggie’s Jeep, and drove back to Drustan and Gwen’s castle. There they crept into the back entrance, quiet as mice so as not to wake anyone, where they fell into bed and began the loving all over again.

It was nearly noon by the time Dageus and Chloe ventured belowstairs, and when they did—much to Drustan’s irritation—they went straight to the kitchens, evidently famished. He could hear a passel of McFarleys banging about in there, putting together a late brunch.

Drustan shook his head and resumed pacing in the library, scarcely able to contain his impatience. The elderly McFarley butled in, trying to find something he might bring “his lordship,” but the only thing his lordship wanted was his damned brother’s attention.

He’d been up since dawn, and already a dozen times this morn he’d stalked toward the stairs, yet each time Gwen had met him at the bottom and firmly turned him back toward the library.

He’d heard them slip in last eve (as if he’d be able to fall asleep on the night Dageus was to return!) and had begun to rise from bed to go to them then, but Gwen had placed her hand on his arm. Let them have tonight, love, she’d said. He’d growled, frustrated, eager to share his news and discover what they’d learned, but then she’d begun kissing him and his mind had stuttered the way it always did when she used that luscious mouth of hers on any part of him. Och, and the parts she’d used it on last eve!

He glanced at her. She was curled on the window seat beneath one of the library’s bay windows. Rain pattered lightly against the glass. She’d been reading for the past hour, but now she was staring dreamily out the window. Her skin had the unique translucent radiance of a pregnant woman, her breasts were full and tight, her belly heavily rounded with his—their—children. Fierce elation and protectiveness flooded him, accompanied by that never-ending need to be holding her, touching her. As if sensing his gaze on her, she turned from the window and smiled at him. He dropped into an armchair near the fireplace and patted his thigh. “Bring your bonny self over here, wee English.”

Her smiled deepened and her eyes sparkled. As she slipped from the window seat, she warned him, “I might squish you.”