Highlander of My Heart Read online Donna Fletcher (Macardle Sisters of Courage #1)

Categories Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Macardle Sisters of Courage Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
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Ruddock realized she was near another climax and hurried to satisfy her before he grew too soft to do so. It didn’t take her long and he enjoyed watching her burst with pleasure once again.

When she finally lay snug in the crook of his arm, her naked body pressed close to his, she sighed. “Lovemaking is far more satisfying than I expected.”

He had thought to tell her that she experienced only a small portion of it, but decided he’d show her over time instead.

She looked up at him, her expression serious. “I won’t wear you out will I. You’ll let me know if you’re not up to it.”

He couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him.

Sorrell sat up quickly. “It isn’t humorous. I don’t want to demand too much of you in bed and have you grow tired of me.”

Ruddock couldn’t keep from laughing.

Sorrell punched him in the arm, though she did enjoy his hardy, deep laugh, since she had never heard it before. “It isn’t funny. I’m serious.”

Ruddock snagged hold of her waist and swung her to land stretched out over him, her face close to his, and his laughter fading. “You will never wear me out, never demand too much of me in bed, I will always be up to making love to you, and never ever will I grow tired of you.”

She reached her hand up to trace his clean shaven jaw. “You look so different.”

“I grew tired of hiding behind the beard and I thought it only fair you saw all of me.”

He had cut his beard for her, so she could see who he truly was and that touched her heart. “You didn’t have to.”

“Aye, I did. There is enough you don’t know about me. I would least have you know the whole of my face.”

Her stomach took that moment to gurgle quite loudly.

“Have you eaten today?” he asked.

Sorrell had to think about it.

“If you must think on it, that tells me you don’t remember when you last ate.” He gave her bare backside a soft slap. “Up and off me, we eat.”

“But I like being on top of you.”

He tilted his head back, scrunching his eyes. “Your innocent remarks, wife, are going to do me in.” He slapped her backside not as softly as before. “Up with you, you need to eat and so do I.”

She rolled off him then and he quickly slipped out of bed, surprised that he felt an arousal stirring in him. He turned to offer his hand to her but she had already left the bed and was walking toward the food.

Everything had happened so quickly between them once the servants left the room, he hadn’t had a chance to enjoy the pleasure of seeing his wife naked. Now that he did, he took his time.

There was a graceful slimness to her petite body and gentle curves and a firmness to her backside, that he had enjoyed gripping as he had plunged in and out of her. Her breasts would fit his hand nicely and her nipples were a rosy color he couldn’t wait to taste. Her red hair was a mass of curls that looked to be as untamable as she was and he smiled at the thought.

She turned with a bowl in her hand, piled with meat, cheese, and bread. “We’ll share.” She walked over to him and tugged at his hand for him to follow her back to bed.

He was glad she was comfortable being naked in front of him after only having wed him this morning. But then there had been a shared comfort between them, an easiness he had not felt with anyone.

She handed him the bowl, then climbed into bed, slipping her legs beneath the blanket and tucked it up to her waist.

He almost groaned with regret. Her thatch of red hair between her legs tempted, since the pleasure that laid hidden there was for him and him alone.

She held her hand out to take the bowl from him and he caught her slight shiver and nearly cursed aloud. He’d been too enamored with her body to give thought that the room held a chill. The cold rarely bothered him, being so big, but she was petite and chilled much faster than he ever would.

After returning the bowl to her, he went to the hearth and added more logs, then to the pegs lining the one wall. He returned to her and held up a green, soft wool shawl.

“I assume this belonged to your mum. I don’t think she would mind you borrowing it if she knew a chill ran through you.”

“It did belong to my mum. It was a favorite of hers.” Sorrell reached up and took it from him and draped it around her shoulders. It was like her mum’s arms had wrapped around her, hugging her, and letting her know she was happy for her.


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