Page 190 of Taming the Highland Misfits
“When can we do it again?” she asked mischievously.
Ramsay looked horrified. “My god, woman!” he cried. “You are insatiable.” Then he laughed. “We men take a while to recover, my love.” He stood up and walked over to pour them a glass of wine from the glass on one of the tables, and Ailsa drank in the sight of his long powerful legs, muscular backside, and broad shoulders.
Ramsay handed her a glass, smiling lovingly at her. She was so adorable with her tousled hair and her lips swollen from his kisses that he could barely wait for his body to be ready for her again.
Ailsa took the glass from him and began to sip her wine. “I never want to leave this bed,” she whispered.
Ramsay chuckled. “That is rather impractical,” he remarked.
“What a pity,” Ailsa said, sighing.
They lay in comfortable silence for another short while, then Ailsa raised herself on one elbow and looked down at her husband, smiling. “Are you ready yet?” she asked a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Ready for what?” he asked, pretending not to know. “This?” He rolled her over on the bed and pinned her down, holding both her hands over her head in one of his, then thrust into her again. This time it was not gentle, but Ailsa did not want gentleness; she wanted to be taken hard and furiously so that every nerve in her body felt the friction of his skin and the rough pressure of his hands roaming all over her.
When the moment came, her climax was titanic, and she guessed by Ramsay’s hoarse shout of triumph that his had been equally so. After they had both floated back to earth, they lay in a delicious languor for a while till they both began to drift off to sleep.
“I love you so much. Mistress Ailsa Ormond,” Ramsay said drowsily.
Ailsa smiled at his first use of her new name. “I love you too, husband,” she replied. “And when we wake up I will prove it to you—again.”
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Katrina was not having an easy time on the day of the council meeting. She had been given the onerous task of looking after Ailsa’s and Ramsay’s five-year-old twin sons, Malcolm and Broderick, while their long-suffering nanny was away visiting her sick mother.
Malcolm, the older by ten minutes, was the more placid of the two, which was not to say that he was a calm and biddable child; not by any means. However, he did not have Broderick’s supply of frenetic and seemingly never-ending energy, which made trying to get him to sit still an exercise in sheer frustration.
“Broderick!” Katrina growled as she tried to pull him off Malcolm, whom he had knocked over, and who was now lying on his back with Broderick’s wooden sword at his throat. “Get off! You are going to hurt him, and then you will be sorry! Who will you have to fight with then?”
She hauled Malcolm to his feet and dusted him down, but apparently, the battle was not over. As soon as Katrina had finished with him, Malcolm sprinted up to his brother with his sword held out in front of him, aimed at Broderick’s heart.
Broderick parried the thrust and the battle began anew. Katrina knew that the boys were not in any actual danger of killing each other since the swords were thick and blunt. However, they could give each other plenty of painful cuts and bruises, and these were such a regular occurrence that Lady Davina, in her capacity as a healer, was often called upon to minister to her grandsons.
Ailsa was now pregnant again, and everyone in the family was hoping and praying for a daughter since Ailsa had expressed the opinion that one more son would likely be the end of her!
As the swords clunked together and the warriors yelled insults at each other, Lady Davina came downstairs and stood beside Katrina, looping an arm around her waist. Her second daughter had turned out to be the image of her mother, and it looked as though Malcolm was going to resemble Ailsa too. Broderick was his father’s son, however, with his deep-set grey eyes and dark hair, which he insisted on keeping long, like Ramsay’s.
“One day those two are going to seriously damage themselves,” she said ruefully, shaking her head. “They obviously love each other, but I have never understood why men show their affection by half-killing each other!”
“It’s a mystery to me too,” Katrina confessed, giggling. At sixteen, she had just reached the age where she was beginning to attract the attention of many young and eligible men. This was a constant irritation to her since she was devoted to her liberty and was still a girl at heart. She supposed that one day soon she would have to start putting on fancy ball gowns and going to ceilidhs, but she was not yet ready, and Lady Davina had assured her that there was plenty of time.
Laird Ormond had died a year after Ailsa and Ramsay were married, but he had gone to his grave a happy man, having been reconciled to his one remaining son and able to see his new grandsons.
“I am going to see John,” he had said, smiling at Ramsay as he held his hand on his deathbed. “And I was able to tell my beloved son, Ramsay, whom I treated so badly, how sorry I am and just how much I love him.”
“As much as he loves you, Father,” Ramsay had replied with a sad smile. He had spent hours and hours talking to his father and learning about his mother, and he had gradually come to understand the bitter hurt that Laird Ormond had felt every time he looked at Ramsay. However, in the last year of his life, Ramsay had slowly managed to forgive him and they had developed a warm and loving relationship.
When Broderick Ormond was gone and he had put on the heavy mantle of the lairdship, he missed his father more than he could say.
* * *
Ramsay and Ailsa were both involved in the running of the combined McBain and Ormond clans and were often obliged to be present at Council meetings for discussions about the running of both Balmuir and Mulrigg estates. However, they had decided that this should be Ailsa’s last one. Now in the eighth month of her pregnancy, she was suffering extreme discomfort even in the padded confines of the cosy carriage, which was keeping out the cold autumn winds.
As they came back to Balmuir after a long hard day of talking and bargaining, Ailsa laid her head on Ramsay’s shoulder and sighed with weariness. He put his arm around her and kissed the top of her forehead. “It won’t be long now,” he said softly. “And this time I am sure we will have a daughter.”
“I know,” she agreed. “It just seems like a lifetime away. This baby is so heavy sometimes!”
They arrived back at Balmuir Castle as dusk was falling, and Ramsay helped Ailsa out of the carriage. Then, just as he had done on their wedding day, he lifted her and carried her upstairs to their bedroom, albeit a bit more slowly, since she was much heavier.
