Johanna imagined the babe—a strapping lad with Connor’s dark hair and green eyes, or a spirited lass who’d pursue life with her da’s abandon, who’d let nothing stand in her way, much less the fact she wore skirts rather than trousers. As a MacMasters, their babe would be born into a loving brood that would cherish and protect their dreams. A wave of joy washed over Johanna. The happiness of being a part of his warm, loving family only added to the bliss of the love she shared with Connor.
Of course, her American family would be every bit as doting. Given the voyages the family would likely make to visit kin on both sides of the Atlantic, Johanna suspected their child would be a seasoned sailor by the age of six. Such a glorious adventure, this life with the man she’d married, the man she loved.
With her kitten nipping at her heels, Laurel swept into the chamber and dashed straight for the bookshelves. Serena trailed after her, a look of shared mischief on her face.
“It has to be here. I’m quite certain,” Laurel muttered, scanning the shelves.
“What are you looking for?” Johanna twisted to make eye contact.
“A guide to Egypt—the one by Georg Ebers.” Laurel rattled off the scholar’s name with a ready confidence. She’d gained a mentor in Serena. Connor’s sister cultivated the girl’s passion for all things Egyptian with the guidance of a woman well-versed in ancient history and culture.
“Are you referring to the book you left in your room?” Johanna inquired.
Laurel nibbled her lip. “I thought…I thought I put it in its proper place.”
“I don’t think so,” Johanna said with a chuckle. “I do believe it’s there, on your bedside table.”
Mustering a look of contriteness Johanna suspected was somewhat less than sincere, Laurel scooped up her pet and brushed the scruff of the fur ball’s neck. “Piper doesn’t care much for Uncle Archie’s morning performances.” A wry smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I suppose she’s not well named.”
“Piper is a fine name,” Serena said with a quick swipe of her fingertips over the kitten’s fur. “Now Uncle Archie’s skill with the bagpipes, that’s another matter entirely.” She shot Connor and Johanna a knowing glance. “Come along, Laurel. Let’s go put our hands on that book and leave your parents a moment of peace.”
Laurel marched to the door. “I suppose I should try to be tidier. Perhaps it is a virtue.”
“Now, that would be quite remarkable, indeed.” Johanna smiled as Laurel hurried from the room in pursuit of the book.
Connor closed the door, then swept Johanna into his arms. “It appears we are alone. I intend to enjoy this moment with my bride.”
Delicious heat rippled through her limbs and settled in her core. His scent—notes of whisky and leather and clean, healthy male—filled her senses, and the warmth that spread through her body had nothing to do with the flames licking against the brass screen.
“Perhaps our chamber is a more suitable setting for this…conversation,” she murmured against his mouth.
“Aye, a brilliant suggestion, my sweet.” Connor framed her face in his gentle hands. “I’ll never get enough of ye.”
“How very peculiar. I was thinking that very thing.” she said with a smile.
The look in his eyes stripped her bare, but she felt no shyness, no hesitation. Only a bone-deep hunger to taste his passion, to touch his skin, to hold him to her heart as they both reached the pinnacle of their pleasure.
Whispering tempting promises against her lips, he claimed her kiss. Giving and taking and stirring her need to a frenzy. After all the nights of passion they’d shared, her knees still went to jelly. Quite amazing, that.
And then, he took her hand in his and led her to their chamber. As the door closed behind them, Connor regarded her with a look that bespoke of finding a rare treasure.
“I love ye, my sweet Johanna. Now and forever.”
“And I you, darling.” She coiled her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Now. And forever.”