"You're that attached to it?" Margaret teased.
"You'll know why by morning."
She blushed.
"Pink cheeks still?" he laughed. "And you, an old married woman."
"I've been married for two hours! I think I still have the right to blush."
He dumped her on the bed and looked down at her as if she were a treat in the bakery window. "Yes," he murmured, "you do."
"My family isn't going to believe this," she said.
Angus slid onto the bed and covered her body with his. "You can worry about them later."
"I still can't believe it."
His mouth found her ear, and his breath was hot as he said, "You will. I'll make sure you will." His hands stole around her backside, cupping her and pressing her firmly against his arousal.
Margaret let out a surprised, "Oh!"
"Do you believe it now?"
Where she got her daring, she never knew, but she smiled seductively and murmured, "Not quite."
"Really?" His lips spread into a slow smile. "This isn't enough proof?"
She shook her head.
"Hmmm. It must be all of these clothes."
"Do you think?"
He nodded and went to work on the buttons of his coat, which she was still wearing. "There are far, far too many layers of fabric in this room."
The coat melted away, as did her skirt, and then, before Margaret even had time to feel shy, Angus had doffed his own garments, and all that was left was skin against skin.
It was the strangest sensation. He was touching her everywhere. He was above her and around her, and soon, she realized with breathless wonder, he would be within her.
His mouth moved to the delicate skin of her earlobe, nib-Wing and nipping as he whispered naughty suggestions that caused her to blush right down to her toes. And then, before she could form any sort of response, he moved away and moved down, and then before she knew it, his tongue was circling her navel, and she knew-absolutely knew-that he was going to perform every one of those naughty acts that very night.
His fingers tickled their way to her womanhood, and Margaret gasped as he slid inside. It should have felt like an invasion, but instead it was more like a completion, and yet it still wasn't enough.
"Do you like that?" he murmured, looking up.
She nodded, her breath coming in shallow, needy gasps.
"Good," he said, looking very male and very pleased with himself. "You'll like this even more."
His mouth slid down to meet his fingers, and Margaret nearly bucked off the bed. "You can't do that!" she exclaimed.
He didn't look up, but she could feel him smiling against the tender skin of her inner thighs. "Yes, I can."
"No, you really-"
"Yes." He raised his head, and his slow, lazy smile melted her bones. "I can."
He made love to her with his mouth, teased her with his fingers, and all the while a low, rumbling pressure built up within her. The need grew until it almost hurt, and yet it felt wickedly delicious.
And then something within her exploded. Some deep, secret place she hadn't even known existed burst into light and pleasure, and her world was reduced to this one bed, with this one man.
It was absolute perfection.
Angus slid his body up the length of hers, wrapping his arms around her as she slowly drifted back to earth. He was still hard, his body tightly coiled with need, and yet somehow he felt strangely fulfilled. It was her, he realized. Margaret. There was nothing in life that couldn't be made better with one of her smiles, and bringing her her first woman's pleasure had touched his very soul.
"Happy?" he murmured.
She nodded, looking drowsy and sated and very, very well-loved.
He leaned in and nuzzled her neck. "There's more."
"Anything more would surely kill me."
"Oh, I think we'll manage." Angus chuckled as he rolled over her, using his powerful arms to hold his body a few inches away from hers.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him. She lifted one of her hands to touch his cheek. "You're such a strong man," she whispered. "Such a good man."
He turned his face until his lips found the curve of her palm. "I love you, you know."
Margaret's heart skipped a beat-or maybe it pounded double-time. "You do?"
"It's the strangest damned thing," he said, his smile a touch bewildered and a touch proud. "But it's true."
She stared up at him for several seconds, memorizing his face. She wanted to remember everything about this moment, from the glint in his dark eyes to the way his thick, black hair was falling over his forehead. And then there was the way the light hit his face, and the strong slope of his shoulders, and…
Her heart grew warm. She was going to have a lifetime to memorize these things. "I love you, too," she whispered.
Angus leaned down and kissed her. And then he made her his.
Several hours later, they were sitting in bed, enthusiastically partaking of the meal the innkeeper had left outside their door.
"I think," Angus said quite suddenly, "that we made a baby tonight."
Margaret dropped her chicken leg. "Why on earth would you think that?"
He shrugged. "I certainly worked hard enough."
"Oh, and you think that one time-"
"Three." He grinned. 'Three times."
Margaret blushed and mumbled, "Four."
"You're right! I forgot all about-"
She swatted him on the shoulder. "That's enough, if you please."
"It will never be enough." He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her nose. "I've been thinking."
"God help me."
"Seeing as how we are Greenes, and this is Gretna Green, and we ought never to forget how we met…"
Margaret groaned. "Stop there, Angus."
"Gretel!" he said with a flourish. "We could name her Gretel. Gretel Greene."
"Jesus, whiskey, and Robert the Bruce, please tell me he's joking."
"Gertrude? Gertrude Greene? It doesn't have quite the same flair, but my aunt will be honored."
Margaret sank into the bed. Resistance was useless.
"Grover? Gregory. You cannot complain about Gregory. Galahad? Giselle…"
Julia Quinn
