Her Scottish Hero (Scottish Wolves Book 3) by Theodora Taylor

Author:Theodora Taylor [Taylor, Theodora]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rom Tell That
Published: 2023-02-08T18:30:00+00:00

Leora

I fell asleep helplessly milking Alban’s … um …

“Ooohhh, here’s a word. Cock … it’s vulgar slang for penis.” A memory from my otherwise-innocent teen years dropped into my head: Tara’s eyes popped as she read the definition of a word she’d found in the store dictionary’s “C”-section. “I don’t know what a penis is, but if it’s ‘vulgar,’ it has to be bad. Let’s look it up!”

The image of my sister eagerly leafing toward the P section unfurled in my head as a completely black sleep dragged me under.

Then I awoke in a familiar place: the firm bed in Alban’s town house—the same one I’d been sharing with Dorie for three weeks after she refused to move to the castle.

Had it all been a dream, then? Had my heat sex with Alban just been an incredibly inappropriate subconscious fantasy?

No, that really happened. Everything below my waist ached and groaned as I gingerly sat up on my forearms. And the lingering soreness between my legs let me know I’d definitely done every single one of the things my subconscious wouldn’t have even known to dream about.

I sat all the way up in bed and was embarrassed but not necessarily surprised to find myself naked. Also, Dorie was nowhere to be seen, and I smelled different. Like … like …

Actually, I wasn’t sure what to call him. Everything had happened so fast. But I smelled completely of Alban now—like I’d bathed in his scent.

No, definitely not a dream.

Unbutton your shirt for me … kiss me … ride me until your wolf finds exactly what she wants …

Heat flushed through me as I remembered all the unspeakable things Alban had commanded me to do yesterday and how good it had felt to obey him.

But it wasn’t heat-heat warming my skin, I realized. The space between my legs was sore—but no longer aching. And the noisy heat smell no longer clamored in the area, making it impossible to think about anything except procreating. Which meant … I’d completed the cycle.

The realization hit me with the force of a wagon drawn by two horses.

I was pregnant. Pregnant with Alban’s baby.

After showering and getting dressed in the second outfit Hamish had pulled for me from his former wife’s closet, I gingerly came down the house’s back stairs to find …

Alban opening and closing all the kitchen’s above-the-counter cabinets, just as I’d been doing three weeks ago when Dorie came down for breakfast—but a lot more angrily.

“Oh, there you are,” he said without breaking off his search. “You’ve slept nearly the whole day. I was wondering if I’d have to trumpet in your ear to get you awake.”

Everything inside me cringed, and the memory of Joshua preaching against helpmates who dared to sleep in for any reason echoed in my head. At least once a month, he’d made sure to deliver a blistering sermon on sloth.

Oh, goodness, just one day into my new relationship, and I was already messing up.

“I’m sorry,” I told Alban.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he answered, closing the last of the cabinets.

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