Epilogue
One year later
Dunvegan Castle
Christmas Day
“Darling,” Cecelia murmured as Liam showered delicious kisses over her belly, now swollen with child, and all the way up to her neck. He nuzzled her there and then moved onward to her lips, which he claimed in a passionate kiss that made her toes curl and stole her good sense. They really must get out of bed, get dressed, and go to the great hall to celebrate Christmastide with their guests. Her mother would be terribly cross that they were holding up the festivities, and it really was quite rude to keep Aila, Elizabeth, Aldridge, and Blackmore waiting. They had, after all, graciously traveled from London to Skye to spend Christmastide with them.
Yet as Liam lavished her with slow, drugging kisses, her body came alive with the need to respond. Her husband, knowing her so very well, gave her all that she needed and more, so that it was not until much later that she could think past anything other than how he made her skin tingle, breath catch, and heart flutter, and how he gave her such happiness that she thought she would burst.
As he threaded his fingers through her hair, she knew there was something she was forgetting, but she could not remember what. When her stomach growled, she gasped and immediately sat up. “You devil!” she exclaimed playfully. “You knew you would make me forget the festivities, but you cannot make me forget the feast!” She giggled. “Everyone must be starving!”
“Nay,” he said, plating a kiss first on her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips. He grinned at her as he stood, strode to the table in the far corner of the room, and came back holding the book of poetry he had purchased for her the previous year. “I told them to start without us. I wanted to read to the wee babe before we went down as ye said he’s been kicking a lot of late. And I knew ye would not take the time for yerself if I was not verra persuasive.”
“You know I cannot argue with such a sweet gesture,” she replied, taking the kiss he gave her as he sat beside her.
He put his hand on her belly and read a bit of Byron aloud. As he did so, the baby kicked as if to say he heard Liam, and then settled down and was still.
She smiled at her husband. “How did you know it would calm him?”
“He’s yer son, aye? Poetry calms ye, so I assumed it would him, as well.”
“You know me so well, my love,” she replied, brimming with happiness. It was the simple truth, and it was all she needed.
