Callum released a brief laugh, although razor-sharp emotion sliced at his heart. He remained painfully conscious that while he'd told Mhairi over and over that he loved her, she hadn't yet said the words to him.
That was another change, and one that shone an unflattering light on his treatment of his former amours. Lassies galore had declared their love – with, he was cynically aware, varying degrees of sincerity – but he hadn’t felt the slightest urge to respond in kind.
"Och, mo chridhe, your resentment has never been unspoken."
She didn't smile. "I want us to be happy. A grudge will poison our life together."
He reminded himself that while Mhairi mightn't have declared her love, she had come a good many hard miles in his direction from the spitting wildcat he'd snatched in the meadow above Bruard. God’s teeth, she'd agreed to wed him, hadn't she? At the very moment when he at last gave her leave to return to her father. That spoke volumes about how she'd changed. And since declaring herself ready to become his bride, she'd kissed him over and over, as if she couldn't get enough of the taste of him.
She mightn't love him, but she wanted him and she liked him. He knew her well enough to understand that she gave him her loyalty for life, even before they spoke their wedding vows. What she gave him would have to be enough, although he was so desperate for her to love him back, he was ready to go on his knees and beg.
But if he'd learned anything about Bonny Mhairi Drummond, now Mackinnon, it was that she came to things in her own time. Against all the odds, he’d won the bride of his heart. For now, he must be satisfied with that.
Speaking of satisfaction, his wedding night stretched ahead. What did words matter, when his beloved promised herself to him body and soul?
"I swear I'll do my best to make ye happy," he said solemnly, hoping the Good Lord allowed him time and room to fulfill his vow. Sheena's death had lent a grim touch to these past three days, but so had the prospect of the Drummond sending an army to besiege Achnasheen.
But neither of those things could mar the joy he took in the woman he'd married. Neither of those things impinged on the bond they forged together. A bond that the years ahead, if granted to him, would only strengthen. Mhairi mightn't yet love him, but from today, they were eternally united.
At last another smile curved those soft pink lips. "It would make me happy if ye werenae a whole room away from me."
Startled, he straightened from where he slouched against the door. "I dinnae want to make ye nervous, mo chridhe."
The smile widened, and she pushed aside the covers to reveal her hips and legs and sweet, slender bare feet. He swallowed to moisten a parched throat and wondered at the state this lassie put him in, that the sight of her feet was enough to stir up a lather of excitement.
"I'm no’ nervous."
He dragged his gaze away from how those slender feet joined up with those neat ankles. The silk shift was sheer enough to hint at the shape of shins and knees and thighs. And the shadowy mysteries at the junction of her thighs. If he looked too long there, he didn't trust himself not to jump on her like a wild beast.
"No?"
Her smile broadened. "No." Then she paused. "Or only a little. I havenae done this before. But I trust ye to do it right."
When she said things like that, it reminded him that while she mightn't love him, she gave him plenty else. A sensible man would consider it was enough. The problem was it turned out he wasn't quite as sensible as he’d always imagined.
He ventured a step closer. "I pray I prove worthy of that trust."
"Ye will." She paused. "Ye do."
When her smile turned incandescent, his heart crashed against his ribs. Dear God, he loved her. She’d never been so beautiful as now, when she stretched her hand out in his direction.
"Come here, Callum. Ye went to a devil of a lot of trouble to get me into this bed. Is it no’ time ye enjoyed the fruits of your victory?"
His wayward heart performed another giddy flip, and he took a further step toward her. “Mhairi…”
Casting him a wide-eyed look, she gave a soft laugh. "For the love of heaven, I swear you're more nervous than I am."
Ridiculously he felt a flush rise in his cheeks. He ran his hand over his hair, brushing its slippery weight back from his face. "Och, lassie, of course I'm nervous."
She sent him a mocking glance. "And ye the laddie all the lassies in this glen want to catch."
To his displeasure, his blush heated. "You've been listening to too much gossip."
"I ken that when I wed ye, it was to the sound of dozens of hearts breaking."
"Your heart is the only one I'm interested in," he said curtly.
The smile broadened, became smug. "I know."