The pleasure lasted for what seemed like forever, and Robbie refused to move, instead holding himself rigid, deeply inside her as her lingering pulses continued to tighten around him.
Apparently, Catherine had more presence of mind than he did, for she reached up and trailed one finger down the side of his face, ending at his chin and gently pushing his mouth shut. She smiled—a warm, smug, I’ve-got-you-now smile.
“That really was the best part,” she whispered, lifting her hips slightly. “And definitely better than anything I could ever dream up.” She looked around the cabin flickering with candlelight, then brought her shimmering gaze back to his. “If I didn’t love you so much, I might be a little freaked out. Is this going to happen every time we make love?”
She cupped his chin in her palms. “Because it’s going to cost us a fortune in candles.”
Realizing he was about to collapse, Robbie rolled off her, bringing her with him and tucking her against his side as he stared up at the shadows dancing over the ceiling. “I truly hope not, little Cat, or I’ll be dead before my next birthday.”
She threw an arm and a leg across him, kissing his nipple before settling her head in the crook of his arm. He could feel her smile against his chest as she let out a satisfied sigh.
Then she suddenly lifted her head, looked at the table beside the bed, and started laughing. Robbie turned to see what was so funny and started them both shaking with his own laughter. There on the bedside table, leaning against a gently burning candle, were three packets of glow-in-the-dark condoms.
“I’m guessing it’s Cody,” Catherine said, settling back against him and drumming her fingers on his chest. “No, it’s Rick.” She tilted her head to look up at him and frowned. “I think there’s really a prankster lurking behind that quiet demeanor of his.”
Robbie captured her drumming fingers and kissed her upturned nose. “Do we need the condoms, Catherine? We really haven’t discussed adding to our family.”
She pulled herself up until she was straddling him again and slowly shook her head.
“No. We don’t need anything between us,” she whispered. “I could never have too big a family. You want a boy or a girl, Mr. MacBain?”
Robbie thought about that, looking up into his wife’s beautiful, glowing face as he tried to picture her pregnant. “Maybe six of each,” he finally said.
Which made her laugh.
Which made his toes start to curl again.
“I love you, wife.”
She gave him a smile that outshone the candles. “And I love you, husband.” One of her eyebrows rose inquisitively, and those maddening fingers of hers started walking up his stomach again. “Have you gotten your strength back yet?”
Every candle in the cabin suddenly flared again.
Chapter Twenty-five
Catherine would sayone thing about Scots: it didn’t seem to matter if it was eight hundred years ago or today, they certainly knew how to celebrate a wedding.
There was enough food laid out on several tables in the yard to feed a small nation. And the people! There were dozens and dozens of MacKeages and MacBains. Cousins had come from all over the country, towing husbands and wives and babies with them, to add their blessing to their marriage. Catherine was a bit overwhelmed to find herself in the middle of such a large family, considering she’d been an only child and orphaned at nineteen. Even Nathan and Nora were in a daze, inundated by hordes of children wanting to play and suddenly calling them cousin. Then there were the townspeople who kept coming up, welcoming Catherine to Pine Creek and wishing her well, almost to a person telling her that Robbie was the catch of three counties.
“That was a very big mistake you made, asking me to notarize a forged signature,”
Martha Bailey said over her cup of punch just before she took a sip.
“You knew it wasn’t Robbie’s signature?” Catherine asked.
Martha nodded.
“Then why did you notarize it?”
“Blackmail,” the judge said with a smile. “Marcus Saints told me there’s room for two more boys here.”
“We’re going to fill those beds with babies,” Robbie said as he walked up and wrapped an arm around Catherine’s shoulder.
“You can build more bedrooms,” Martha said, waving that away. “And besides, everyone knows kids are cheaper by the dozen.” She batted her eyelashes at Robbie. “I have two boys in juvenile right now who are due to be released in July. You should be able to have the addition finished by then.”
“I’ll be in your office Monday morning to sign a new license,” Robbie told her. “And when Gunter gets an apartment, we’ll continue this discussion,” he finished with a nod, leading Catherine away.
Marcus Saints stepped into their path, rolling down his shirt sleeves and buttoning his cuffs. He spotted his dirty hands and wiped them on his pants with a laugh. “I’ll be a millionaire,” he told them. “Cody and I are going into business manufacturing potato guns to sell on the Internet.”
Nathan came running over, his own shirt covered with potato pulp. “Did you see me, Mom? I splattered the rock three times.” He looked up at Marcus. “I heard what you said to Cody. Can I be in your business? I can test each gun before you sell it.”
Marcus ruffled Nathan’s hair, realized he had only smeared potato pulp through it, and tried to wipe it down with his sleeve. “Sure, Nathan. You can be our quality control manager.”
“In ten years,” Robbie clarified, again dragging Catherine away with a wave to Marcus.
Father Daar rushed over, a can of soda in one hand, a bowl of dip in the other, and several carrots and celery stalks sticking out of his chest pocket. “I’m wanting a word with you, Robbie,” he said, just before he lifted the bowl and licked dip off the edge.
“Tomorrow,” Robbie told him, turning Catherine away again.
She was starting to feel like a horse being dragged around by the cart. She planted her feet and pulled her husband to a stop. “What’s your problem, Father?” she asked.
Daar shook his head. “It ain’t exactly a problem I got,” he said. “It’s more like a mystery.”
Robbie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what would that be?” he whispered.
“It’s the root,” Daar whispered, looking around and taking a step closer. “It’s not what I was expecting.”
Robbie glared at the priest. “What do you mean, not what you expected? It’s from Cùram’s tree. I know it is.”
“Aye, aye,” Daar said, bobbing his head. “And it’s growing just fine, but it’s not an oak.
The tree is a white pine sapling.”
Robbie shook his head. “Nay. That root came from an oak.”
Daar took a sip of his soda and then canted his head. “Are ya sure? Could ya have taken a root from a nearby pine by mistake? Was there one growing near Cùram’s oak?”
“Nay. It stood alone in the cave. Are you saying the root is worthless? That you won’t be able to reverse your spell?”
“Nay,” Daar said. “It has the energy of a tree of wisdom. I can feel it. I just don’t know what it means, is all, that ya brought me an oak root and it grows into a pine tree.” The old priest suddenly gasped, spilling dip on his hand. “Cùram!” he whispered. “That blackheart is up to something.”
“He can be up to whatever he wants,” Robbie growled, “as long as you can still reverse the spell.”
Daar absently nodded. “Aye. That’s not a problem, MacBain. Yar papa and the others will be staying here.” He looked at Robbie for several seconds, then turned and walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.
“Do you believe your father and uncles are safe?” Catherine asked, looking up at her scowling husband.
“Aye. Daar knows better than to lie to me.” Robbie forcibly shook off his black mood and suddenly smiled. “Come to the hayloft, wife. My toes are wanting to be curled again.”