our spousal day. Let them look. Shall I tell you?”
“Pardon my interruption.”
“I do.” He grinned when she looked chagrined. “Let me see. When you should’ve been preening from the adulation shown you in
all your wedding finery, youstopped and assured two children they would always have a home with us, and then claimed them as ours. You have passion and
caring, love. I like that.”
“How do you know for sure?” she blurted.
Her blush told him she was referring to the night ahead and he laughed again.
He had to be careful of her magnetism. She could make him let down his guard. As keeper of the vast estates belonging to MacKay
he had to be wary of any and all. Lusting after her didn’t mean she had his full trust. There were few, whether they be Welsh,
Anglos, or even Scots outside his clan, who did.
He couldn’t deny the wanting. It had grown into a seething sea that he could’ve drowned in if it weren’t for the damnable
guests. He pictured her under his tartan, with nothing but her bare skin touching his. His blood cascaded to his lower body,
hardening it. He hadn’t been so aroused so quickly, so fully, in memory. Aye! It would be a monumental task to keep his spouse
in proper perspective. She had the visage of an angel. He shouldn’t allow himself to think she was one. She netted him with
her look. Though caution told him to glance away, he was loath to break the moment. Rather he would stay buried in her eyes.
Hugh lowered her to the ground. “Shall we wander about and greet our guests?”
“ ’Twould be proper.”
The hand she placed on his arm trembled. When he covered it with his own, fire burst through him.
There was a flurry upon the knoll leading to the castle.
Both Hugh and Morrigan looked. She noted how he angled her to the back of him, just a hair.
“Maman!” Rhys roared from his place up the glen between two burly MacKays. He ran toward her, legs and arms pumping, falling
and getting up again to race faster than the two MacKays at his heels.
MacKay cursed, allowing her to move to the side of him again.
Still dazed she turned to the boy, opening her arms wide. He threw himself into them. “They’s said I’m to be them. I aren’t,
are I? I’m Welsh like you.”
Hugh felt a stab of feeling unknown to him. Damn! To watch her cuddle the child, rain kisses on his face, raised his ire,
and more. He wanted her touch over him instead of on the boy. “You are MacKay, and Welsh,” he told Rhys, lifting him away
from his mother, more than irked when she showed reluctance to release the boy.
Lifting him high, Hugh commanded that Rhys look about him. “All that you see belongs to MacKay. A portion is yours one day.”
White-faced, Morrigan watched.
Hugh felt her glance. Was it through a veil of deceit? As her husband he’d just offered land to the boy and made him an heir
to a portion of MacKay holdings. Did she resent the offer? He knew that her Welsh hectares would go to the boy. Did she think
he should have more than he’d bestowed on the lad?
“I do not think you need to worry about estates, Rhys.” Morrigan lifted her arms, but his circled Hugh’s neck.
“No, maman, I’ll stay here.” He shoved his thumb in his mouth and grinned around it at Hugh. “I can see everything.”
Taken aback, Morrigan could only stare.
Father Monteith came up to her side. “The boy surprised you, milady?”
“Yes. Rhys connects with few people. He’s very possessive of me, and short-tempered with most, including his peers, Father.”
She bit her lip. “Sometimes I’ve worried that he might be too attached to me after our arrival in Scotland.” She shook her
head. “He takes me aback, Father. To see him look around him, cuddled up to Hugh’s shoulder, feeling at home, seeming content,
is a relief.”
“Children find their way,” the priest whispered.
Morrigan nodded, listening to what Hugh was saying to the boy.
“And why do you
“Pardon my interruption.”
“I do.” He grinned when she looked chagrined. “Let me see. When you should’ve been preening from the adulation shown you in
all your wedding finery, youstopped and assured two children they would always have a home with us, and then claimed them as ours. You have passion and
caring, love. I like that.”
“How do you know for sure?” she blurted.
Her blush told him she was referring to the night ahead and he laughed again.
He had to be careful of her magnetism. She could make him let down his guard. As keeper of the vast estates belonging to MacKay
he had to be wary of any and all. Lusting after her didn’t mean she had his full trust. There were few, whether they be Welsh,
Anglos, or even Scots outside his clan, who did.
He couldn’t deny the wanting. It had grown into a seething sea that he could’ve drowned in if it weren’t for the damnable
guests. He pictured her under his tartan, with nothing but her bare skin touching his. His blood cascaded to his lower body,
hardening it. He hadn’t been so aroused so quickly, so fully, in memory. Aye! It would be a monumental task to keep his spouse
in proper perspective. She had the visage of an angel. He shouldn’t allow himself to think she was one. She netted him with
her look. Though caution told him to glance away, he was loath to break the moment. Rather he would stay buried in her eyes.
Hugh lowered her to the ground. “Shall we wander about and greet our guests?”
“ ’Twould be proper.”
The hand she placed on his arm trembled. When he covered it with his own, fire burst through him.
There was a flurry upon the knoll leading to the castle.
Both Hugh and Morrigan looked. She noted how he angled her to the back of him, just a hair.
“Maman!” Rhys roared from his place up the glen between two burly MacKays. He ran toward her, legs and arms pumping, falling
and getting up again to race faster than the two MacKays at his heels.
MacKay cursed, allowing her to move to the side of him again.
Still dazed she turned to the boy, opening her arms wide. He threw himself into them. “They’s said I’m to be them. I aren’t,
are I? I’m Welsh like you.”
Hugh felt a stab of feeling unknown to him. Damn! To watch her cuddle the child, rain kisses on his face, raised his ire,
and more. He wanted her touch over him instead of on the boy. “You are MacKay, and Welsh,” he told Rhys, lifting him away
from his mother, more than irked when she showed reluctance to release the boy.
Lifting him high, Hugh commanded that Rhys look about him. “All that you see belongs to MacKay. A portion is yours one day.”
White-faced, Morrigan watched.
Hugh felt her glance. Was it through a veil of deceit? As her husband he’d just offered land to the boy and made him an heir
to a portion of MacKay holdings. Did she resent the offer? He knew that her Welsh hectares would go to the boy. Did she think
he should have more than he’d bestowed on the lad?
“I do not think you need to worry about estates, Rhys.” Morrigan lifted her arms, but his circled Hugh’s neck.
“No, maman, I’ll stay here.” He shoved his thumb in his mouth and grinned around it at Hugh. “I can see everything.”
Taken aback, Morrigan could only stare.
Father Monteith came up to her side. “The boy surprised you, milady?”
“Yes. Rhys connects with few people. He’s very possessive of me, and short-tempered with most, including his peers, Father.”
She bit her lip. “Sometimes I’ve worried that he might be too attached to me after our arrival in Scotland.” She shook her
head. “He takes me aback, Father. To see him look around him, cuddled up to Hugh’s shoulder, feeling at home, seeming content,
is a relief.”
“Children find their way,” the priest whispered.
Morrigan nodded, listening to what Hugh was saying to the boy.
“And why do you
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