To Marry a Scottish Laird

I do no’ care if ye can sing or dance or shoot a bow. Either ye’ll learn those things over time, or ye will no’. It does no’ matter to me. I do no’ even care if ye learn to ride. Ye can ride with me if necessary. Those are no’ the things I came to value about ye on our journey north. I value yer honesty, yer courage, and yer spirit. I like that yer smart, and that we could talk about anything under the sun and laugh together. That’s what I want from ye. That’s why I wanted ye e’en with yer face a mess and in braies. Ye’ve an inner beauty and spirit that shines through everything, and I love ye fer it.”

“I like ye, Jo,” he interrupted quietly. “I like talkin’ to ye, and travelin’ with ye. I like the way yer mind thinks, I like yer laugh, and I like ye as a person.” He shrugged helplessly. “It makes me want to hear ye laugh more, and find out what yer thinkin’, and it makes me want to strip yer clothes away one by one and sink me cock into yer warm wet body over and over and over again.”

He must have wanted one more afternoon and evening with her, she realized, because they had to be very close to MacKay for the small fire they’d built the night before to be seen.