Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“No matter, what, yes, I would. Well, and if he wasn’t already married to my mother.”
I smile.
“You do need to talk to her, though,” she says quietly.
I nod. “I know.”
“The people who love you will understand, Iona. Even my parents finally came around to Tor, you know.”
I smirk. “Came around to, or are still slightly terrified of him?”
She grins. “Both? Maybe my mother’s come around more than my father.”
I giggle. “Rhona, you know we’re all pretty sure your mother has a bit of a crush on Tor, right?”
She winkles her nose. “Thank you so much for that mental image,” she says with a snorted laugh. “You’re probably right though.” She shrugs as she grins salaciously. “I mean, he’s is a handsome man.”
I laugh. “In that tattooed, scary savage kind of way?”
Rhona wags her brows. “Lucky me.”
I laugh and she pulls me in for another hug.
“Talk to Cat, Iona. Believe me, she’ll understand. And probably better than you’re giving her credit for. And stop worrying about anyone else. If being with Lachlan makes you both happy…”
She looks at me and I nod, blushing.
“It does.”
My friend smiles. “Then it is what it is. I mean he’s a lord, Iona. Who cares what people say?”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“My pleasure. Now, go try that wedding dress on. I’m going to go catch up with Una and Cat.”
Ten minutes later, behind the dressing screen in the corner of the room, I look into the big mirror as I smooth down the wedding gown. A small smile creeps over my face, both at the way I look in it, and at the words of encouragement Rhona’s just given me. Somehow, the guilt I’ve been holding inside seems to have let out a little. Because deep down, I know she’s right about Cat.
I mean we’re the best of friends—practically sisters. Will it be a little weird to tell her that I’ve been smitten with Lachlan for basically forever? Absolutely. But it’s a weirdness I know we’ll move past. Because as Rhona pointed out, we’re not children anymore. We’ve grown up and grown into our lives. And I know this is the path I’m supposed to follow.
I’m still starring into the mirror when I hear the door to the room open and then close.
“It fits wonderfully!” I say eagerly through the dressing screen to the dressmaker. I twirl in the mirror once more before I turn away and start to untie the gown.
“I’d have to agree.”
I scream at the deep baritone voice I wasn’t expecting, whirling and gasping as I look up into Lachlan’s eyes.
“My lord!” I gasp, swallowing the heat that blooms into my face like it always seems to do around him.
“You aren’t supposed to see me in this before the wedding!”
“No?”
“No,” I say quietly, biting my lip as I look up into his gorgeous dark eyes. “It’s bad luck.”
“Ahh, I see. Then perhaps…” he growls, coming closer to me, his voice deep and resonating. “Perhaps we should take it off, then.”
I whimper softly as he moves against me, his hands taking mine and gently pulling them away from the ties I was undoing at my breasts. Deftly, he tugs on the strings, loosening the gown as my pulse thunders. His big hands pull the gown open, baring most of my breasts to him as the heat in the room begins to grow. His eyes lock on mine as his hands slide to my shoulders, pushing the gown off of them and letting the entire top tumble to my waist.
Lachlan groans, his eyes dropping to my breasts. And without another word, my hands drop to the small of my back, plucking at the ties holding the rest of the gown in place. And with a single tug, the whole thing slips to the floor around my feet.
“Good little lass,” he growls, his eyes as hungry as the fire burning inside of me. And suddenly, we’re crashing together.
I moan as his lips find mine, his big hands sliding over my bare skin, teasing down to my ass. He grips it tightly, making me whimper as his tongue slides with mine. And when I he tugs me tight to his body, and I feel that thick, big cock of his pulsing against my belly through his kilt, I moan even more eagerly into his lips.
My hands slide over him, pushing his tunic up so that my fingers can trail over his abs. I move them lower, boldly sliding right down to cup the huge bulge in his tartan.
Lachlan groans, pulling way to chuckle deeply.
“Eager little lass, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I purr, moaning as I kiss him deeply. Because he’s lit something in me. There’s always been something burning inside of me, but with recent events, that fire has turned into fierce passion—a wildness for him I can’t control. And nor do I want to.