To Marry a Scottish Laird
“A smile immediately pulled at her lips. This was a sight she’d woken up to more than once during their journey to MacKay and she’d enjoyed it each time. Cam looked young and untroubled in sleep, not at all the ferocious warrior, or the laughing friend, or the seductive lover, all of which he could be by turn when awake. Campbell Sinclair had many facets, and Joan liked every one of them. There was not a side to her husband that she did not love.
And he had told her he loved her, she recalled and briefly closed her eyes at the memory. Cam loved her. The thought was a thrilling one, and made her want to squeal with glee, but she didn’t want to wake him up that way.
“Cam loves me,” she whispered with wonder. “And I love him.”
Her aunt had said as much the day they’d married, but Joan had merely shrugged off the suggestion. She supposed she hadn’t been ready to accept it, or maybe she’d been afraid to accept it because if she loved him and he didn’t love her . . .
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