Page 68 of The Dove
He released her, and she slumped against the seat with a heavy, contented sigh. Taking his time, he pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and used it to clean her. Then, he buttoned his fall and set her dress to rights before taking her in his arms, pulling her into his lap as he settled back on the carriage seat. She moved as if to sit beside him, but he squeezed her, slapping her undoubtedly sore arse to keep her in place. He liked her weight on his thighs, the feel of her hair tickling his jaw as she curled up like a kitten settling in for a nap.
A sound escaped him, a sigh … it almost sounded contented. He supposed that was exactly how he felt, the restlessness that seemed to plague him now eased with her here, her fingers toying with the buttons of his waistcoat. If she was not careful, she’d find herself impaled again. She was barely touching him, but it had been six weeks … far too long for him to be forced to go without his little dove. How had he ever expected to go a lifetime?
A sudden thought occurred to him, and he rested a hand on her belly, absently rubbing her through the fabric of her gown.
“It has been over a month since we were last together,” he remarked. “Are you …”
She shook her head and sighed, nestling closer to him, fitting her head in the gap between his neck and shoulder. “No. I felt like such a fool for crying when my courses came. I wept for hours.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, not certain he liked this feeling in his gut at the mention of her crying. It made him want to hit something. “We shall have to truly try, then … in earnest.”
She chuckled. “Was that a marriage proposal, or do you simply intend to have me living with you in sin for the rest of my days?”
Pushing her so she sat up and looked at him, he inclined his head, meeting her gaze. “Is that what you want from me? Marriage? A ring and a wedding and … and guests.”
He shuddered at the thought of filling Dunnottar with people he hardly knew and certainly did not like—something that would be required due to his status as an earl.
She shook her head. “Not if it isn’t what you want. In truth, I do not care about any of it, Adam. I only want you.”
“You have me,” he declared quickly … so quickly, she grinned as if he’d just given her a palm full of diamonds.
“Then I am content,” she said with a nod.
That should have been enough for him, then. That she was coming back to Dunnottar with him, permanently, should be enough. They belonged to each other, and that was what mattered to him.
Still …
“You know,” he murmured with a smirk. “We have to pass through Gretna Green on our way to Kincardineshire.”
Her face lit up like a starry night sky, and he felt torn between feeling smug he’d been the one to do it and being annoyed because they were Robert’s words, not his own. Still, he’d be the one marrying her, not the Honourable Mr. Stanley.
“Truly?” she whispered, her voice becoming choked up.
He nodded. “Aye. It seems as good a way to get married as any … and this way, we do not have to wait or plan some frivolous party. Unless that is what you want?”
Shaking her head, she took his face in her hands and kissed him soundly. “No. Marriage over the blacksmith’s anvil sounds like the perfect way to me.”
He kissed her back, agreeing wholeheartedly. This way, their bond would be sealed in a place that would be very much like the battlefield of their entire relationship—smoke and fire, darkness and ash. He would not have it any other way.
“Then it will be done,” he declared. “When I take you back up my mountain, you will enter Dunnottar as Lady Daphne Callahan. What do you say to that?”
She pressed her forehead against his and smiled. “I think, it does not matter what my name is, as long as I can always be your little dove.”
He studied her and mulled that over for a moment. Despite the fact that he’d first compared her to a dove because of her purity and fragility, he had come to see her as so much more than he’d known she could be. It seemed better to compare her to a phoenix, or some other strong, resilient creature.
Yet, the endearment still came to him as easily as ever as he stroked her cheek and returned her smile.
“Aye, little dove,” he murmured. “That, you’ll always be.”
EPILOGUE
Dunnottar Castle
Kincardineshire, Scotland
One year later …
Daphne retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment and laid it upon the escritoire before her, dipping her quill into a fresh pot of ink. She glanced up before she began, smiling as the warmth of a haven that had been created just for her surrounded her. Light and airy and decorated in shades of lilac, this sitting room was her own, a space Adam had spared no expense to tailor to her specifications. He’d only had one requirement … that the decor be all shades of lilac. He insisted the color made her eyes appear violet, and because she could do no more than smile like an idiot at his assertion, she’d gone along with it. The way he looked at her whenever he entered the room and gazed into her eyes … well, it almost always led to her being bent over a piece of furniture and fucked in a mindless fit, so it had been worth surrendering to his will.
