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husband’s grasp, she was torn between squirming away from it, or delving deeper into the warmth and letting the presents be unwrapped without them.

A layer of lacy frost impeded her view from the window, but a steady whistle of wind told her the morning was deliciously stormy, just as predicted.

Oh, sod it. She had to get up. Breakfast would be decadent, and someone had to see the tree lit.

Besides, Gabriel and Raphael said they never really celebrated Christmas, and she’d spent hundreds of hours and a small fortune to make certain this was the most festive holiday in the history of Christendom.

Slipping her fingers around his wrists, she lifted his heavy arm with no small amount of effort and with the agility of an acrobat, slid from beneath it.

Just when she was about free, he made a juvenile sound of protest, and somehow she found herself right back where she’d started.

“Unhand me, you,” she giggled. “There’s Christmas to be had.”

“But Christmas is cold, and it’s warm in here. How am I going to tear myself away from you?” He burrowed in deeper, both sharing and taking her warmth.

“I promise it’ll be worth it.” She squirmed against his unrelenting grip as he rooted in her hair to nuzzle at her cheek. “Just wait until you’ve seen what I ordered for breakfast. Aren’t you hungry?”

“I know what I’d like to feast upon.” He nibbled at the sensitive hollow of her ear.

However, his stomach made a rude sound, and hers answered in kind.

“There, you see?” Her finger crumpled against muscle as she poked him in the abdomen. “Your body needs sustenance if you are to keep up your vigor.”

“I’ve had no complaints from you about my vigor.” He pressed the evidence of said vigor against her thighs.

Indeed, they’d spent months making up for lost time. In his case, in ways that could only be described as vigorous.

Or perhaps voracious.

Regardless of the word, there were days she found walking difficult.

“Come on, darling,” she tugged at him. “I think we should at least face our siblings, yes, since we’re all gathered together.”

With a plaintive groan, he flopped his glorious body over, quite like a toddler, landing splayed on his back. “It’s only that you have so many.” He yawned.

Felicity giggled and climbed on top of him, stretching her naked body against his hard frame, knowing she was helping her cause not at all as he purred up at her.

Had a husband ever been so dear? Had two people ever fit into each other’s lives so exceedingly, effortlessly well?

Because of their natures, both so solicitous, so in need of ease and comfort and soft, quiet moments, life so far had been something of a respite punctuated by bouts of lovemaking and travel.

They’d joined Raphael and Mercy on the Duchesse de la Cour’s yacht, and had lounged in luxury with nothing to look at but endless blue ocean. They’d splayed on Mediterranean beaches, and strolled through Japanese gardens.

Someday soon, they’d find a place to settle. They’d be still somewhere long enough to plant a garden. But for now, they were both content to discover the world, and each other, in languorous time.

Felicity traced her favorite of his tattoos, a potion bottle with her name inside it, right over his heart. “What say you, we join the family for breakfast and presents, and then when everyone adjourns to the stables for a brisk mid-morning ride, we’ll do the same.”

He filled his hands with the globes of her ass, blowing his lips out with a distinctly equine noise. “But you are afraid of riding horses.”

“I wasn’t anticipating riding a horse…” She rolled her hips against his length.

His lids went down, and his grip tightened. “Woman, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Am I? Perhaps you’re the one in danger.” She lifted herself over him, stretching and arching in a way she knew drove him wild.

“Here I was, thinking I’d married an angel, when really you’re nothing better than a wicked, insatiable tease.” He gave her rear a gentle slap.

Retaliating, she tweaked his nipple and he laughed, playfully covering his chest like a woman whose breasts were exposed.

“You poor, tormented soul,” she pouted, wriggling away from him and dancing out of his grip as he levered up and made a grab for her. “How will you ever survive me?”

“I don’t mean to survive you, wife,” he growled, throwing the covers away from his delectable body. “I mean to devour you.”

“Excellent.” She winked at him from the washroom doorway. “You can start after breakfast.”

Also by Kerrigan Byrne

A Goode Girls Romance

Seducing a Stranger

Courting Trouble

Dancing With Danger

Tempting Fate

The Earl of Christmas Past

The Business of Blood Series

The Business of Blood

A Treacherous Trade

A Vocation of Violence

Victorian Rebels

The Highwayman

The Hunter

The Highlander

The Duke

The Scot Beds His Wife

The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo

The MacLauchlan Berserkers

Highland Secret

Highland Shadow

Highland Stranger

To Seduce a Highlander

The MacKay Banshees

Highland Darkness

Highland Devil

Highland Destiny

To Desire a Highlander

The de Moray Druids

Highland Warlord

Highland Witch

Highland Warrior

To Wed a Highlander

Contemporary Suspense

A Righteous Kill

Also by Kerrigan

The Highwayman

The Hunter

The Highlander

The Duke

The Scot Beds His Wife

The Duke With the Dragon Tattoo

How to Love a Duke in Ten Days

All Scot And Bothered

About the Author

Kerrigan Byrne is the USA Today Bestselling and award winning author of THE DUKE WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO. She has authored a dozen novels in both the romance and mystery genre. Her newest mystery release THE BUSINESS OF BLOOD is available October 24th, 2019

She lives on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington with her dream boat husband. When she's not writing and researching, you'll find her on the water sailing and kayaking, or on land eating, drinking, shopping, and taking the dogs to play on the beach.

Kerrigan loves to hear from her readers! To contact her or learn more about her books, please visit her site: www.kerriganbyrne.com

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