Page 62 of To Winter at Wildsyde

Ruth gave a bark of laughter. “Oh, I pity your poor husband when you take one, Sheenagh, and I thought I was difficult.”

“Gie away with ye,” Sheenagh retorted with a saucy toss of her head. “There’s always compensations.” She winked and bustled away to the door with the tray. “I’ll tell the laird he may come to ye now, then.”

Ruth was still chuckling as the door opened a moment later and Gordy came in. He looked awkward, standing at the end of her bed, one large hand clamped on the back of his neck.

“Are ye well, Ruth?”

“Very well, thanks to you.” She smiled at him and he shifted, dropping his hand and then lifting it once more to rub the back of his neck again. The poor dear was nervous, she realised.

“Come,” she said, holding out her hand to him.

He moved to the side of the bed and then frowned. “I dinnae want to jostle ye, if—”

“Oh, stop fretting. I’m not made of glass, you know, and if you don’t come and give me a cuddle, I shall be forced to get up and then Sheenagh will be cross with you.”

He snorted at that. “Sheenagh is already cross with me. In fact, I reckon the entire staff wants my blood, though I cannae say I blame them.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she said, catching hold of his hand and tugging.

He climbed onto the bed and the mattress pitched though he tried his best to be careful. Ruth turned into him, burying her face in his chest and sighing as his arms went around her.

“I love you,” she said.

He inhaled sharply and then let it out again on a breath of laughter. “I havenae the slightest idea why ye should.”

Ruth reached up and tugged at his hair and he shifted down the bed until their faces were level, turning on his side towards her. “Because you are thoroughly worth falling in love with,” she said, staring at him. “You are a good man, you care deeply about the people here, about their lives, and because you have no idea of just how lovable you are.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Lovable? Lass, ye are all about in yer heid. Lovable,” he muttered, grumbling with disgust.

Ruth kissed him, pressing her mouth softly to his and watching as he closed his eyes. She drew back, and he sighed but it was a long moment before his eyelashes lifted again. She said nothing further, just stared back at him. Gordy watched her, and then raised his hand, stroking her cheek.

“Ye are so lovely. It makes my heart hurt to look upon ye, did ye know that?”

Ruth’s breath caught, stunned by his words, by the truth of them shining in his eyes. He meant it. It wasn’t just an idle compliment spoken by route. Gordy was not adept at such pretty nothings, and never would be. If he said such a thing to her, he meant it.

“I didn’t know that,” she said, struggling to keep her voice from quavering.

They just lay there, staring at each other, holding each other, and Ruth kept quiet, sensing that there was more he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“Do ye regret it?”

“Regret what?” she asked, frowning.

“Marrying me.”

Ruth let out a huff of laughter and tried to wriggle closer to him, sliding her hand up over his chest. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

“Nae!” he retorted, looking alarmed at the idea. “Of course not.”

“I think you are,” she teased. “You must be, for any of the staff will tell you your wife is head over heels in love with you. I think I fell for you the moment you burst in through the door, shouting at the top of your lungs for Bonnie. There was no way on earth I was going to let anyone else have you.”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest and made her smile with delight. “That wisnae love. It was lust. Admit it. It’s the kilt, aye? Ye caught a glimpse of my knees and fell hot into lust with me.”

That was so close to the truth that Ruth’s cheeks flamed.

“Ach! I knew it,” he crowed, grinning at her.

Ruth buried her face in his chest until he reached for her, lifting her face to his for a kiss. She sighed as his mouth played gently over hers, soft and tender, dozens of small kisses merging together in one long, luxurious exchange.