Page 58 of To Defy a Highland Duke

Afterward, as Marjorie lay satiated and content, her head upon Keane’s shoulder and her eyes and limbs heavy with drowsiness, she kissed his chest. The broad, muscled expanse was, indeed, covered with fine, curly hair. Spreading her fingers wide, she combed through the soft mat.

“Yes,” she murmured, her lips against his fragrant, warm skin.

God, he smelled splendid.

“Hmm?” Keane made a groggy sound deep in his throat. “Aye, what?”

“Yes, I’m sure I want to marry you.”

A shudder rippled through him before he pulled her atop him, capturing her in a rather fierce embrace. “When?”

She chuckled and brushed that stubborn shock of hair off his forehead. “Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Nae for me, but I dinna want to rush ye, leannan.”

“And I don’t want another day to pass before I can call you my own.”

“People will gossip, ye ken.” His features sober, Keane trailed a finger across her collarbone. “They’ll say we are foolish for rushin’ into the union. Even yer family mightn’t approve.”

She rested her chin upon her hands, peering into his eyes. “I only care what you think, Keane.”

He flashed a grin that scorched her to her toes. “I think we’ve wasted too much time already. When ye defied me last August, ye ignited a spark within my soul, and I have nae doubt that it will blaze hot and fierce for ye until I breathe my last.”

“That’s enough for me, my love,” she murmured, settling upon him. “My very own Highland duke.”

Trentwick Castle

May 1722

Arms clasped behind his back, Keane paced the corridor outside the bedchamber. Behind him, Elana and Cora, looking very much like angels in their lacy, white nightgowns, mimicked his actions. Chins tucked to their chests, their little arms behind their backs, they solemnly followed him.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Presently a small hand slipped into his, and he glanced down.

Cora peered up at him, her eyes trusting. “Papa, how much longer?”

“I’m no’ sure, lass.” And he wasn’t. He’d never been through this before either.

Another small hand took possession of his other hand, and he winked at Elana.

“Come, let’s sit for a spell, shall we?” he suggested. “I fear we’ve worn a path in the carpet.”

They hadn’t been waiting that long, but to the lasses, it undoubtedly seemed so.

Once settled on the floor across from the door, a wee lass tucked into each side, he rested his head against the wall.

Females certainly chose the worst times to give birth. Though he supposed the onset of labor at a quarter of ten wasn’t as bad as it might’ve been, considering Marjorie had promised Elana and Cora they might stay up for the blessed event.

Anny exited the chamber, and they all perked up in expectation. Giving a rueful smile, she shook her head. “No’ yet, but soon. Her Grace has requested tea and bread and jam. She says she’s famished.”

Marjorie was hungry at a time like this?

He’d have thought she’d be too busy with the birthing to eat, but what did he know of such matters?

“Can we have bread and jam and tea too, Papa?” Elana asked. “We can have a tea party out here while we wait.”

Why not?