Dwyn was dozing fitfully when the sound of the bedchamber door opening and closing stirred her. She opened her eyes to see that the sky was lightening with the rising sun. Dawn was coming and Geordie was just finally joining her, but it had been quite late when they’d got back to Buchanan. After looking her over here in Geordie’s room, Rory had given her a potion to soothe her aches and pains, and then Geordie had helped her undress and get into bed. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, about the only place on her face he could kiss her without causing her pain, he’d told her to rest and he’d be along as soon as he finished dealing with things.
Dwyn hadn’t made him explain what these things were. She knew. They included figuring out what Katie had done to “handle” Aulay, and deciding what to do with the maid as well as Brodie’s soldiers, at least the ones who had survived the battle.
Curious about those things, she lay on her side facing the window and listened as Geordie disrobed and then slid into bed behind her. When he started to curl around her, his arm reaching over her and then stopping uncertainly, she took his hand and pressed it to her breast with his palm over her nipple.
“’Tis the only spot that is no’ bruised,” she explained with amusement when he went still with what she suspected was surprise.
Geordie relaxed then and pressed a kiss to her neck. “I did no’ expect ye to be awake yet.”
“I drowsed fer a bit,” she admitted, scooting back until he was spooning her. “But I was curious to learn when we are leaving for Innes.”
“Everyone’s decided to delay fer a day so we can rest up after what happened. I thought ye may prefer fer us to travel with yer da and the others so ye can rest in the cart while ye heal.”
“Nay,” she said without hesitation. “I can ride.”
“Are ye sure?” he asked with concern.
“Aye,” she assured him. “Me bottom is no’ bruised. Besides, riding in a wagon would be more torture than rest.”
“Ah,” he murmured with understanding.
“What will become o’ Katie?” Dwyn asked after a moment.
Geordie pressed another kiss to her neck, but then sighed and admitted, “She is dead. We left her locked in the room with Rory guarding the door, and she chose to jump out the window rather than face whatever punishment might have been meted out.”
When Dwyn stiffened and turned her head in question, she was able to see him nod in the light cast by the rising sun.
“He did no’ mention it when we first got back because he did no’ want to upset ye,” Geordie explained.
Nodding, Dwyn turned to peer out the window again as she asked, “Did ye figure out what she had done to ‘take care’ o’ Aulay?”
“Aye,” he murmured, his hand moving lightly across her nipple, in what she suspected was an unconscious action. “There was poison in the whiskey in his study. Rory did no’ think anything else had been tampered with, but Aulay had everything in his study thrown out just to be safe.”
“Probably a good idea,” Dwyn said a little breathlessly, wiggling her bottom closer to the hardness she could feel growing and pressing against her. “What about Brodie’s men?”
“We’ve decided to release them,” Geordie admitted, rolling her nipple between thumb and finger now, which definitely wasn’t unconscious. Leaning up again, he began to nibble at her neck as he pointed out, “They were only following their laird’s orders, so they’re being escorted off Buchanan land as we speak and sent on their way . . . without their horses.”
“Without them?” she breathed as he nipped at her ear and then sucked on the tender flesh briefly, before shifting his mouth to her neck and nipping and sucking lightly there as well.
“Aye.” His voice had deepened in direct proportion to the hardness growing between them, and Geordie shifted, rubbing himself against her. “They had to be punished somehow and walking home to Brodie seemed— Damn, Dwyn,” he interrupted himself on a moan of despair. “Ye’ve been beaten and abused and I should be just holding ye and offering ye comfort, and instead I want to . . .”
“Come home?” she suggested gently when he broke off.
“Aye,” Geordie breathed apologetically, and then kissed her gently on the shoulder, and eased back from her, retrieving his hand from her breast to rest it on her hip instead. “But I love ye and wouldn’t want to hurt ye, so I can wait.”
Dwyn hesitated for a minute, and then reached down and back to clasp his hand. “While we canno’ kiss just now with me mouth sore as it is, and the only safe places to touch me are me breasts and right here.” She drew his hand between her legs and pressed his fingers against her. “I’d like ye to come home, husband. That would comfort me.”
“God, I love ye, Dwyn Innes Buchanan,” Geordie growled, kissing her neck again as his fingers began to slide between her folds to caress her. “Ye’re brave and ye’re smart, and ye’re funny . . . Ye’re just perfect. I think God surely must have made ye just fer me.”
Dwyn opened her mouth to assure him she felt the same way, but a gasp slid out instead as his fingers glided over her sensitive core.
“Ye’re wet fer me, love,” he breathed with awe by her ear.
“I’m always wet fer ye, husband,” Dwyn moaned. Her hips moving into his caresses, she reached back to clasp his hip. “Please love me, Geordie. I want to feel ye inside me while ye touch me. I need ye to make me ferget today, and—” Her words ended on a groan as he shifted and slid into her, filling her even as he caressed.
Within moments, Geordie’s steady thrusts and caresses had Dwyn forgetting about Brodie and what had happened that day, along with pretty much everything else as he kissed her neck and shoulder and patiently but slowly drove her toward her release. It was different this time though, Dwyn noticed. The passion was still there, but he was being extremely gentle and careful with her. Geordie was making love to her, rather than just loving her, and she quite suddenly understood what he meant. She too felt like she’d come home.
Epilogue
With the sound of the wind blowing and the waves crashing on shore, Dwyn didn’t hear the horse. It was Barra’s excited bark that told her someone was approaching and who. Smiling wryly at the dog, she turned, unsurprised to see Geordie riding up on his mount.
“I can never surprise ye with those beasts around,” Geordie said on a laugh as he reined in and dismounted.
“Nay, ye canno’,” she agreed with a grin, shaking her head when Barra immediately rushed excitedly to her husband the moment he was off his horse and standing in the sand. The dog licked his hand, and then dropped to the ground and rolled about excitedly on his back, showing submission even as he invited pets. Clucking with irritation, she said dryly, “That dog used to be mine.”
Geordie chuckled at her jealous comment, and bent to run his hand over the dog’s belly, before giving him a pat and straightening to approach Dwyn where she stood next to a much more dignified Angus. Much to her relief, he, at least, had not abandoned her, and had remained seated obediently at her side.
“We’re all yours, love,” he assured her, bending to pet Angus now as well.