Eloping with the Laird by Jeanine Englert

Author:Jeanine Englert
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-10-28T18:51:07+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Hold fast.

Rory sucked in one deep breath and then another as his body thrummed in desire and want of his wife. There was no denying it. The feel of her strong, small frame against him and the slight tremble he felt pass through her undid him. The irony of desiring his wife so much when she feared intimacy was not lost on him. Fate had a grand sense of humour, it seemed. The dying man had finally found a wife, yet he could not begin the act of trying to beget an heir with her.

Another man might have just bedded her without cause and justified it with the fact that he was her husband and the future of a clan was at stake, but he was not that man. Perhaps it would be easier if he was. They began the slow descent to the back entrance of the castle and Rory accepted the truth with each footfall. He would have to be patient. Once more, time demanded more from him and Fate would give him what he desired on Her terms but not a moment sooner.

Moira shifted against him and slowed, turning her face to the west. ‘It’s beautiful. May I look inside?’

Rory glanced in the direction of her interest and his chest tightened. They should have gone the long way around to the front entrance and risked getting caught in the rain. The painted glass windows of Blackmore’s small chapel winked back at him as it caught the sun’s intermittent rays, as if daring his approach and mocking his past with it. If it wasn’t sacred ground, he would have spat upon it. He met her quizzical expression and realised he’d not answered her. ‘If you wish,’ he replied, his words sharper than he intended.

‘Did something horrid happen here? You’re scowling.’ She tilted her head and stepped out of his hold. An immediate sense of loss consumed him. Some from the past and some from the present.

He sighed and crossed his arms against his chest. ‘’Tis not my favourite part of Blackmore.’

‘Oh? It’s quite lovely. I am surprised you did not wish to have our wedding here.’

‘I tried that once before,’ he muttered, and started up the worn stone path to the chapel’s large, dark wooden doors. With every step, the walls he’d built to keep the loss he’d experienced there fell away until only the feelings of shame and grief remained.

A crack of thunder sounded and the skies opened up, releasing plump, heavy drops of rain. ‘Seems the weather has decided for us. Come inside. We can wait out the storm.’

He couldn’t prevent the dry, bitter laugh from escaping his lips as he continued on.

Moira walked beside him until they reached the doors where he stopped cold, staring blankly at the barrier standing between him and the past.

To her credit, she didn’t move but waited patiently for whatever truth he would give her.

Rory’s hand grasped the large metal handle. All he had to do was pull on the ring and the door would open, yet he couldn’t quite summon the courage to do so.

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