Chapter Eight

“Marry me, Kirstie Cameron.”

Kirstie was well aware her eyes must be the size of saucers. They had been strolling along on what had turned into a beautiful sunny morning in a small garden near the castle when Hamish dropped down on one knee.

She couldn’t speak, and the moment dragged on, an awkward silence between them, until he finally rose back to standing.

A flash of anger lit his eyes, but it just as quickly disappeared. She shivered but at the same time wondered if she had imagined it.

“I-I need time. This is so sudden, Hamish.”

“Do you think Friday night will give you time? I must leave after the meeting.” His words were clipped but calm. She’d never heard him angry and didn’t suspect he ever lost his temper.

His grip on her fingers was tight, and she wanted to protest and tell him to let go. But she bit back the pain, because she’d just broken his heart. Of course, he would react oddly. A broken heart could do strange things to a person.

“Aye, ’twill do. Why do ye want to marry me? I amnae Presbyterian.”

He released her hands. She shook them gently, hoping the numb feeling would disappear. “You have a kind heart, and you would be a good companion and mother.”

They strolled back down the path toward the castle.

Spending most of her time with horses, she’d never thought about children. She tried to imagine what a babe of their union might look like. Hamish was not an unattractive man, he had striking hazel eyes, but when the vision of a little boy popped into her head, she saw familiar smoky gray eyes staring back at her. Oh stop, she told herself and pushed the image away.

“Would I be able to visit Kentillie and my brothers?” The Menzies land was close by.

He was silent for a moment. “We can visit Kentillie as often as you would like.”

That made his offer worth considering. She did need a husband. Blair would be married soon, and she had already decided if the Macnabs wouldn’t let her stay to care for the stables, she needed to move on with her life, and this morning, her mother had insisted she needed to start considering a man for a husband.

Not wanting to dwell on the unpleasant task of planning her future, she changed the subject. “Are ye optimistic for the meeting tomorrow?”

“Not especially. I have spoken with several of the Royalist leaders, and none of them seem willing to accept the Covenant. It is worth a try. I honestly believe that it would be the best for Scotland and for the souls of all its men and women.”

She would have to press him further on the religion question before accepting his proposal. She wasn’t willing to change her views, and she wanted her children to share her own. Maybe he would be open-minded to accepting that they could be different and still have a good relationship, but would he also be willing to let her work in his clan’s stables?

“And if the meeting doesn’t go well, our wedding might bring some kind of peace between our clans.”

“I will think on it.” She bit her lip.

A Covenanter wouldn’t be her first choice for a husband. But if their union could somehow help bring peace to some of the fighting factions, it might be worth the sacrifice. Heaven knew Alan didn’t want her, and she did need to marry. Hamish was easy to get along with. She would consider it.

Blair caught them just as they entered the castle courtyard. “Hello, Hamish.” She beamed at him and turned her radiant smile to Kirstie. “I need to speak to ye. Sorry, Hamish, I need her now,” Blair called over her shoulder as she pulled Kirstie down a pathway and toward the great hall.

“He didnae look happy with me.” Blair laughed. “But I couldnae wait. Henry asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

“Oh, Blair, ’tis wonderful.” She wrapped her arms around her friend. She still had reservations about the bonny Henry, but Blair was so in love with him that she had to be happy for her.

“When?”

“I still have to talk to Father and John, but Henry said not to say anything to them until all this business here was over. He didn’t want it to overshadow our news. We will wed in the fall.” Blair squealed and jumped up and down.

Blair’s enthusiasm was contagious, so when a deep male voice came up from behind and said, “May I escort ye ladies to the meal?” they happily went with Niall to the great hall.

“Is yer cousin optimistic about the meeting?” she asked Niall once they were seated. She wasn’t sure how to break through the walls, but it was time to start fishing for information.

“Aye. The Earl of Argyll is a born leader and is confident everyone will come around to see what is best for Scotland.”

Eager to see Lachlan, she scanned the gathered guests to see if her brothers were present; her gaze was pulled to the door as Alan entered the hall, freezing when he found her. She dismissed him and turned to the man at her side to try to find answers.

“And what will happen if they dinnae? Will he let them go about their lives?”

She tilted her head in toward Niall’s to see his gaze riveted on her. She’d worn a demure gown of lilac today, and although it didn’t reveal the top of her cleavage, it was still a flattering cut and shade for her coloring.

“Nae, something will have to happen. A divided Scotland cannae defend herself.” Niall’s stare dipped, and his eyes dilated.

“I am hoping for the best outcome.”

Kirstie kept her eyes on Niall and studiously avoided Alan. She found the exercise difficult; she so wanted to know what he was doing and if he was watching. When the meal was over, Niall took her hand and headed out to the courtyard as she cradled her hurt wrist to her belly, thankful the pain was not bad enough that she needed another dose of the medicine. The sun was high in the sky, but clouds were sailing by and the light faded in and out.

The Earl of Argyll stood on the opposite side of the space. The earl’s eyes caught Niall’s and motioned him over. His stern visage indicated he had something of importance to relay.

“Excuse me. I must speak with my cousin. Will ye wait right here for me?”

“Aye. But dinnae keep me waiting too long.”

As she watched him leave, she realized she’d been looking in the wrong Campbell’s room. Niall appeared to have garnered the trust of his cousin’s inner circle. With the added guests now roaming the halls, there was no way she was going to get caught sneaking into someone’s rooms again, so she resigned herself to spending the evening dining and dancing with Niall to see if she could get more information from him.

A hand clenched onto her upper arm, and she twirled to come face to face with Alan. His expression was dark and dangerous.

“What are ye doing with him?” He was angry.

“Niall? He’s a friend.” Straightening her shoulders, she met his gaze straight on and pushed his hand away.

“He is dangerous.” Through clenched teeth, moving in so only she could hear, he mouthed, “Ye are aware he is Argyll’s cousin?”

“Aye.” Although doing her best to look innocent, she knew it was no use with him, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being repentant. Especially knowing all she was to him was a mistake.

“Of course ye are. Ye are trying to get information. Do ye no’ ken how treacherous that man is?” Grabbing her by the arm again, he started to guide her back toward the castle.

“He is completely civil to me.” She dug in her heels, but he still managed to inch her forward.

Thankfully, the courtyard was nearly empty, and no one was close enough to see or hear what was truly going on between them.

“’Twould appear he wants to be more than civil with ye.”

“’Tis none of yer business.” She stuck her chin up in the air and did her best to look defiant and out of reach.

His eyes darkened. “Yer safety is my concern.”

“Get yer hands off my sister, Mackenzie.” A voice boomed from halfway across the courtyard.

Alan froze, panic flashing in his eyes at the voice of her older brother, their laird. She wanted to ease the worry, but Lachlan was upon them. Alan was spun around and lost his grip on her. She stumbled then turned to see her brother stood behind Alan with his fists clenched, looking as if he were about to rip Alan to shreds.

“Do ye ken what she’s doing?” Alan asked. Kirstie barely heard his muffled words.

“Nae, but I do ken ye are acting as if she belongs to ye, and ye have never once asked what I think of the match.” Despite Alan’s hushed tone, her older brother’s voice reverberated through the air, and every eye turned their way.

Her brows knit together. Lachlan loved Alan and would be thrilled if they were to marry. It had been she who urged Lachlan to not let Alan visit her, while he had tried to convince her to come home and talk things out, but she’d refused. Why would he have a change of heart?

Kirstie jumped between them. “What are ye doing, Lachlan?”

“Back up, Kirstie,” Lachlan clipped out, but before she could respond, arms were around her waist, dragging her back. She looked over her shoulder to see Malcolm. Shaking his head at her, he held on while she watched helplessly. Lachlan attacked.

He swung at Alan, hitting him square in the jaw.

Kirstie started to struggled. “Malcolm, stop him.”

“It has to be done,” Malcolm whispered in her ear.

“Nae.” Desperate to stop the carnage as Lachlan lunged again, she fought to free herself.

“It has to appear as if he isnnae one of us.”

“Does he ken what ye are doing?” Balling her fists and ignoring the pain in her wrist, she wanted to beat her brothers for what they were doing to Alan.

“Nae, but we’ll send word when he leaves. Argyll is watching, and ’twill keep Alan safe if they believe his story.”

She stopped struggling and wondered what the hell he was talking about. She’d known something wasn’t right, but she’d been too busy avoiding Alan to ask questions about their strange behavior.

Alan’s face and shoulders had dropped. She had never seen him look so dejected. His hands were clenched, but he didn’t strike back. Lachlan started in again but threw no more punches. “Stay away from Kirstie. She’ll never be yers. Ye arenae good enough for her.”

All color left Alan’s face. He glanced at her, and she thought she saw her heartbreak mirrored in his eyes. His gaze left hers, and he nodded to Lachlan.

“I never want to see ye again, Mackenzie. If ye ever step foot on Cameron lands, ye will have to pray for mercy.”

Kirstie noticed the silence for the first time. The courtyard had filled with curious onlookers, and every eye was focused on them. Niall and Argyll were on one side studying the scene as Hamish and some other men were farther away, intent on the altercation.

“Ye should have warned him, Malcolm,” her voice cracked. She was shaking, she was so angry at her brothers. How could they have done this without letting Alan know what they were up to? Why did they need the earl to believe Alan’s story? What was Alan trying to do?

Turning, he walked toward the stables.

“Let me go,” she pleaded with Malcolm as a tear ran down her cheek.

“I cannae let ye go after him.”

Lachlan strode up and growled at her, “Dinnae follow him, Kirstie. That is an order.”

As Malcolm eased his grip, she flew at Lachlan, beating at his chest, ignoring the sharp needles in her injured arm. “Did ye see how yer words hurt him?” Alan wasn’t acting. Something had broken inside of him.

Lachlan’s arms circled around her and hugged her tight, pinning her in a secure embrace as he twisted, shielding her from view of the others and walking her to a more secluded area. “It has to be this way.”

It felt as if she’d had the air knocked out of her; she could barely breathe, could barely talk, barely stand. “Ye just destroyed him. Ye are his whole world.”

Out of the view of the others in the courtyard, Eslpeth and Blair hurried up. “Come Kirstie, let’s get ye inside. The rain will be here soon.”

Lachlan eased his grip as Blair took her hand, and they walked toward the door.

“Mother, I canne let him think Lachlan hates him because of me.”

“I ken that, but first we have to talk.” Meeting her mother’s gaze, she realized Elspeth was holding back the tears of a woman who had just seen one of her children injured. She grieved for Alan as well.

The walk through the castle back to her chamber was a short distance, but each step felt like a long journey. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, her mother turned to Dougal and Blair, the only people who still followed them. Lachlan, Malcolm, and Finlay had disappeared without an explanation. “Can ye two go to the kitchens and find some wine and cheese to bring up, please?”

Her heart ached, and she shook uncontrollably. Once back in her room, she eased into a chair and waited.

Her mother said, “I ken Blair is yer friend, but ye cannae say a word of this to her, and I think they didnae tell ye because of yer ties to the Macnab family. Because of yer association with Blair’s family, ye have been accepted by the Covenanters.”

“What?” She straightened; she never kept secrets from Blair.

“Alan is trying to infiltrate a group of Covenanters who are set on killing the lairds who dinnae sign the League and Covenant.”

“Why would Lachlan let him do something so dangerous?”

“Alan came up with the plan. And it seems to be working. He’s been meeting with them at a tavern in the evenings.”

“If they found out, they would kill him.” A tremor rent through her body, causing the hair on her arms to rise.

“’Tis why Lachlan acted as he did. ’Twas to protect Alan.”

She could see why they had to truly appear estranged, but what she had seen in Alan’s stance and eyes was a man who truly thought himself unworthy. If Alan had just been putting on a show, he would have thrown a punch of his own.

She may very well be the only friend he had right now. There was no reason Alan had to think he was completely deserted—she could converse with him without it looking suspicious. Damn, she was so mad at her family, she could pretend there was a wedge between them.

A knock sounded, and her mother whispered, “Ye cannae tell her a thing.”

“Aye. I’ll keep quiet.” She would do anything to keep Alan safe, but he had to know he wasn’t alone.

A short while later, she’d convinced the group to leave her in the room to sulk as they made their way to the great hall for the mid-day meal. After they left, she quickly donned an inconspicuous traveling gown then draped a plaid over her face and shoulders to hide her identity.

Sneaking through the bustling kitchens, she made her way outside into the storm, which was pummeling the grounds, then through the gate to walk down into the city. Taking Poseidon was too risky. She couldn’t be recognized, so she made her way in the deluge to a bakery across the street from Alan’s inn and waited inside to make sure she wasn’t followed and no one was watching the inn. Very few people moved about in the storm, and those who did were only watching where they were going and not the world around them.

When she felt it was safe, she snuck across the street and found the innkeeper cleaning tables in the empty dining area. The man raised an eyebrow, so despite knowing the way to Alan’s room she had to say something or risk looking suspicious. “I’m looking for a Mackenzie,” she said as she kept her face hidden beneath the plaid. Pressure invaded her chest as she used the name of his birth clan, but the last thing she would do was risk calling him a Cameron.

“Second door on the right.” The man pointed up the stairs, and she nodded.

Knocking, she buried her face deeper in the plaid, scanning the empty hall, and then held her breath as she waited for a reply that didn’t come. She wondered if he was out.

She knocked once more.

The door swung in, and Alan peeked out into the hall, his sword by his side. “What do ye want?”

She showed him her face.

“What are ye doing here?” Clasping onto her arm, he pulled her into the room as he stuck his head out farther, likely checking to either see if the inn’s usual inhabitants were outside or if she’d been followed by Lachlan.

Satisfied the hall was empty and no immediate threat loomed around the corner, he retreated back into the room and bolted the door.

Before he could say anything, she blurted out, “He didnae mean it.”

Alan’s gaze was sad. She reached out to touch him. He backed as if he’d been burned. Shaking his head, he moved farther away from her. “Ye shouldnae be here.”

“’Twas a show. Lachlan didnae mean it.”

He shook his head at her. “Go back to the castle.”

“Nae, I willnae.”

He scanned the room as if he were looking for a way out or looking for something to strangle her with.

“He did it because Argyll was there. He did it to convince them ye were enemies.”

“Even so, he was right.”

“Right about what?” She prayed he wouldn’t call her a mistake again.

“I amnae good for ye.”

Blinking, she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

“’Tis no’ true.” She moved toward him and reached out to touch his arm.

He groaned. “What are ye trying to do to me?”

“Make ye see the truth.”

“Kirstie”—he caught her hand—“we shouldnae be alone.” His tone was pleading. It didn’t sound like anger; it reverberated of restraint and conflicted emotions. She wanted him to know he wasn’t alone, that no matter what she would always be here for him. He had put his very being in jeopardy for her family, his honor and loyalty beckoned her to open one more time. To lay herself bare before him. Deep down, she knew her heart had always belonged to him.

Luckily, she’d worn one of her simpler dresses; it was more like a jacket that fastened in the front over skirts. Before he’d had time to object, she was peeling it off. “I’m so cold. Can ye start a fire?”

She shivered, and Alan’s gaze softened, his regard angling toward the window as the rain pelted it with steady thumps and the whoosh of a strong wind breezed by, rocking the tree branches outside the panes.

“Ye will leave when it eases.” Apparently mollified, he gave her his back and went to work at the hearth.

While he was occupied, she slipped the shift over her head and pulled off her stockings to hang with the rest of her clothes, drying on a small chair. Alan had an extra plaid folded neatly on a table. She wrapped it around herself then went to sit next to him on the floor as the flames roared to life.

As he saw her undergarments spread out over the chair, shock registered. Looking to her huddled on the floor, next to him in only a woolen blanket, he finally spoke. “Are ye trying to get me killed?”

…

Alan couldn’t believe Kirstie would be so bold. “Lachlan willnae be pleased to find ye naked in my room.”

Staring at the dancing flames, he kept his eyes averted, thankful the storm outside had intensified, drowning out the sound of his beating heart and darkening the chamber.

He rested his elbows on his knees and planted his head in his hands. He’d never felt so defeated.

Her gentle voice broke into his misery. “Ye are wrong. He would be happy for us. Do ye really no’ feel anything for me?”

“Doesnae matter what I feel.” He risked a glance in her direction. The ongoing war between his head and his heart was splitting him apart inside. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel that soft skin and slide the plaid down her shoulder.

“It does to me.” When his gaze did meet hers, the sadness in her eyes called to him. His heart ached at the pleading in her voice. She shivered.

“We cannae be together.” He had to tear his gaze away from her or he would move closer. He rose and gathered another piece of peat to put on the fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her pull the plaid tighter around her chest as she made herself smaller.

“Why?” she persisted.

He stared at the flames a moment before turning toward her. “Because I cannae marry ye.” A familiar crushing ache in his chest rose up as he finally voiced what he’d held back for years.

She stood and inched toward him. “I deserve an explanation.”

He couldn’t hide it any longer. She was right; he owed her the truth.

They were just a breath away from each other. She reached up and took his cheek to gently turn his face to hers. “What’s wrong with me?” Her voice quavered as her hand fell from his face.

Gulping, he met her gaze directly. “Oh, kitten, ’tis no’ ye. I didnae tell ye why my father became a drunk.”

She shook her head.

“He betrayed his brother and was forced to leave the clan.”

“What did he do?” Her blue gaze remained on him, listening intently as they stood, face-to-face in front of the fire.

“He stole my mother from his brother.” Closing his eyes, his mind conjured up an image not of his father, but his friend, Lachlan. The man and the symbol of the family that meant more to him than anything else in all of Scotland.

“What yer father did nae longer matters. Ye are a Cameron now. What Lachlan said today was a lie to make others believe ye were at odds.”

“It doesnae matter. He will hate me if I take ye to my bed and then dinnae marry ye.”

“Why can ye no’ marry me?”

“Because I cannae risk hurting ye.”

“I still dinnae understand.” She tilted her head as confusion danced in the blue depths of her eyes before understanding took hold, and then what looked like anger rose up.

Disgust churned in his gut, but he continued. “I told ye what my father did. I have the same rage in me. What if I hit ye? I could never live with myself.”

Her mouth fell open, disbelief etched on her features before they turned fierce and determined. “’Tis no’ ye.”

“My uncle had beat her. That’s why she left with my father. My grandfather beat his wife, too. So ye see, I cannae marry ye. I wouldnae be able to live with myself if I ever hurt ye.”

“As many times as we have fought, have ye ever wanted to raise a hand to me?”

“Nae, but that doesnae—”

Placing her hand over his lips, she cut him off. Piercing his eyes with blinding trust as she removed her hand, she spoke as if she had complete faith in him. “I ken who ye are. Ye are a good man.”

Could she be right? He had never had the urge to strike a lass, but doubts lingered. He couldn’t risk it, so he closed his eyes and turned away.

“Look at me, Alan Cameron,” she ordered. His gaze returned to hers. “’Twas a cycle with yer family. Ye arenae longer one of them. Ye were raised in a loving home by the Camerons.”

In her eyes shone a conviction and innocent trust he longed to believe. She held more faith in his nature than he had ever dared to accept as truth.

He thought back to growing up with the Camerons and the loving relationship Elspeth and Robert had. He’d never seen the man raise a hand to her. And when Lachlan’s betrothed had betrayed his brother, although he’d claimed to want to kill her, he had not harmed the wench.

“It may be, but I cannae risk hurting ye.”

Slipping her arm once again from beneath the plaid she held around her, she took his hand. “I ken ye better than ye ken yerself. ’Tis no’ who ye are.”

“I want to believe it, but what of my family?”

“The Camerons are yer family.” She stepped so close he could feel the warmth of her through the blanket and his clothes. The scent of fresh rain clung to her dark curls, and she smelled of new beginnings and hope. Maybe she was right. He had been able to stop before he’d killed that man last night, and as angry as he’d been with her over her attempt to pry in the Earl of Argyll’s room, he’d never once thought of raising a hand to her.

His heart pounded. Her eyes dilated, and his breath caught at the need he saw in them, calling for him to take what he’d always wanted.

“’Tis my risk as much as yers.”

She released his hand, stepped back, and dropped the plaid to the ground. Kirstie stood before him naked, and every part of his body froze, well, except the part that started growing painfully hard.

Her lilting voice and tempting body reminded him of the story she’d read him of Sirens and the destruction they left in their path, luring him into troubled waters with promises of what could be. It was too late to turn back; he was already ensnared. Truthfully, he had been since the moment she kissed him that long ago evening in the stable. He wanted to believe.

“Alan.” She stood bare before him with the firelight glowing on her skin. The nipples of her full breasts were erect and called to him. “I want ye. Please.”

Those words were his downfall. He took a step toward her and felt his breath become shallow as his body tightened all over. She reached out and took his belt. He couldn’t move as she unfastened it and dropped it to the ground. Her hands rose up to his chest and seared him even through his shirt as she pushed the plaid from his shoulders, and it fell with a soft whoosh to the floor.

“Kiss me.” She pleaded in a throaty purr that sent shivers of need racing through him. His body thrummed as his blood heated and desire pumped through his veins.

His shaking hands found her curves and pulled her into him. Head tilting down toward hers, he took her lips. She quivered, and her arms wrapped around his waist, cocooning him to her fevered flesh. His body sank into hers as his tongue plunged into her mouth to tangle and dance with hers.

She made a little mewling noise that made him want to push faster and harder, but he’d wanted this for so long, he tamped it down. He wanted to savor every second that he touched and tasted her.

One hand skimmed down her soft skin to her hip and drew her tighter to him. Moaning into his mouth, she shuddered, and her limbs became pliant. Her response to his touch set his blood on fire. The pressure building in his cock was heavy and urgent.

His other hand slid up her back, and when his fingers reached her head, they spread into her hair, clasping the base of her neck to hold her to him and prolong the kiss. Each second with her in his arms was a miracle.

His lips left hers, and his mouth went to her ear. The words were throaty and thick with need. “If we do this, kitten, cannae be undone. If we dinnae stop now, I willnae be able to.”

He wanted this, but there was still some coherent part of him that knew if he tasted her, everything would change. He wouldn’t be able to let another have her. Once she was his, he would never be able to give her up.

His gaze met hers. The heat he saw in her blue eyes took his breath away and called to the deepest part of his primitive male being. She was his woman, and it was time he stopped fighting and acknowledged it.

“Aye, dinnae stop. I want ye so much, I can barely breathe.”

He dipped his mouth to the curve of her neck. He’d wanted to put his mouth there for so long and savor the tender flesh. She tilted to give him better access, and his lips closed on the sensitive skin while her fingers dug into his side and beckoned his body to move closer into hers. She tasted of the rain and cool nights under a warm blanket, the Highlands, and everything comforting and real.

Nipping at her soft skin, he was rewarded when she shivered and arched into him. The hand still on her hip slid down and cupped her firm, sweet ass, angling the juncture of her legs toward his hard erection. He ground against her and thrilled at the friction between their bodies. She was slick with her desire for him. Kissing her neck again, he bit down and sucked.

“Alan.” The husky words were ripped from her mouth as she threw her head back. His pulse raced as the need he’d kept leashed for years intensified at her raspy plea.

He yanked himself away from her. She was dazed and beautiful, her lips swollen from his kiss, her curves waiting to be held again. And her hair, slightly wet, cascaded to her breasts and shoulders as if it, too, could not get enough of the feel of her skin.

“Here,” he instructed as he moved her to the side and spread her discarded blanket on the ground. He was still wearing his boots, so he quickly kicked them to the door. After pulling the shirt over his head, he threw it to the side, heedless of where it landed.

Her eyes were wide as she took in the sight of his erect cock. She trembled, and he remembered she’d never done this before; he would have to be gentle and go slow. The thought brought a smile to his face because that was just right. He didn’t want this to ever end.

Taking her, he drew her into his arms again, kissing her until the fear he’d seen in her eyes vanished. He hoped she was as hot and needy as he was. His hands urged her toward the floor and onto the blankets.

The bed was just a few feet away, but here, in front of the firelight, he would be able to see her face clearly. He would see the pleasure wash over her as he thrust in and out. He wanted to always remember this moment.

Kirstie inhaled with surprise as he scooped her up in his arms. He’d held her like this once before. That time, she’d screamed and kicked as he threw her into the loch on a playful dare. This time, she gazed up with eyes that looked into his soul and pierced the part of his heart he’d kept locked away. She melted into him, and he took a moment to savor the feel of her.

This is real.

He sank down on one knee to lay her gently on the blanket, inhaling as he took in the beauty of her before him with the radiant warmth from the fire illuminating her skin. His side still hurt from the blow to his ribs, but he ignored it and nestled beside her.

Braced on one elbow, he trailed a hand across her taut belly. She lay on her back, watching him with a spark of hesitance.

“’Tis yer last chance to come to yer senses, lass,” he said as the hand on her midsection rose and grasped her breast, stroking his thumb over her pert nipple. The reluctance in her eyes was replaced with a heated stare that beckoned for him to touch more, taste more.

His fingers pinched, and she answered by arching into his touch. Her head flew back and her mouth dropped open on a gasp. Turned to look at him once more with hooded, sultry eyes. Words seemed to be stuck on her tongue as she moved into him again.

“If ye stop, I will go mad,” she purred. His kitten wanted him as much as he needed her. He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that curved his lips.

His mouth dropped to the breast in his hand, and he kissed the mound tenderly then licked at the peak. His tongue tangled back and forth over the sensitive tip as she writhed beside him. He sucked the whole tip into his mouth, hard and long. She was panting when he released it.

Hand drifting down her flat belly to her curly woman’s hair, he ran his fingers through the thick patch in circles, massaging the skin beneath and enjoying the feel as the silky strands slid around him.

He plunged deeper and was met with a welcoming wetness. She was slick and soft. As he ran a finger up and down her folds, his mouth continued to work at her breast. When his finger slid across her tender clit, he felt her hands clench the blankets as she cried out.

His cock throbbed as the need to claim her became overwhelming. Shifting, he was on top of her, pushing her legs apart with his knee. There was no resistance as she willingly opened to him.

He sank down, and the engorged tip of his shaft touched her scalding hot center. Leaning over her with one arm, he took his cock in his other hand and rubbed it up and down her wet passage entrance. With each flick, he soaked up more of her juices. She spasmed beneath him as he rubbed against the sensitive nub at the top of her waiting passage.

His gaze returned to hers, and he watched her, taking in the desire she so easily wore on her face. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as sapphire orbs silently pleaded for him to sate the ache that matched his own.

He slowly slid into her and only paused for a moment when her barrier stopped the invasion. Pushing harder, he broke through to her warm, tight center. Her arms left the blankets and grasped his ribs.

The desire in her eyes lessened, but only slightly.

“’Twill be all right. The rest will feel good,” he rasped out as he fought to keep his hips from moving on their own.

She nodded, and he shifted forward to dip his lips to hers. She opened to him, and his tongue swirled inside and took with it any trepidation the breaking of her maidenhead had awoken. Kirstie shimmied, urging him to keep going, and he rose to see her eyes had once again dilated.

Pulling back, he plunged into her again. He was rewarded with a soft feminine sigh. He did it again, and her hips rose up to meet his advance. Her head turned from side to side as he thrust again and again.

She cried out below him with fevered gasps as he drove harder, her body arching and bowing beneath him. She glowed in the firelight as her eyes rolled up and the waves of pleasure took her under. He continued to plunge as she spiraled out of control.

Kirstie was starting to catch her breath when he came undone. The spasms in her tight sheath clenched around his swollen cock until he was convulsing above her. His body quaked with each tremor until his seed spilled out and filled her womb.

Leaning down on an elbow, he stayed inside her, not yet willing to let go of the connection between them. Kirstie’s hand traced the muscles on his chest and weaved in and out of his hair. She licked her lips and looked up at him.

“Why have ye waited so long to do that to me?”

He couldn’t help the smile that he felt all the way to his toes. He’d never dared to dream he would one day have Kirstie naked by his side.

As he studied her, he knew, he would never raise a hand to her. She meant too much to him. He was nothing like his birth family. Her needs and wants would always come before his so that he could keep that heart rendering happiness on her face. Caressing her cheek, he kissed her one more time before he reluctantly slid from her body.

Leaning on an elbow beside her, he ran his other fingers up and down her body, from her thigh to shoulder, paying special attention to each curve. Her skin was a golden color that had deepened in the dull light of the room.

The rain continued, but they were warm and sated as the outside world disappeared, oblivious to the tranquil scene locked away in this room. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket with everything he needed. Her cheeks still had a pink blush, and her lips were swollen. She glowed more beautiful in the firelight than he imagined any of the goddesses from the stories she’d read to him ever could.

A sweet, demure smile turned up the corners of her lips.

“I’ve never seen ye shy before.”

“Dinnae get used to it. ’Twill no’ last.” Her smile turned into a playful smirk.

“I like this side of ye. I may have to find more ways to make ye blush.” She turned a darker pink.

“Did I please ye?”

“Aye. Ye did more than please me.”

She’d demolished the walls of his self-control and forever changed their lives. He wasn’t ready to tell her that she had made him feel complete, that she was his perfect match and he never wanted to go through another day without her. After ensuring her family was safe, then garnering Lachlan’s permission to wed her, he would confess all, but he couldn’t utter those words until he had proven himself.

Spilling his seed inside her, he had shared himself in a way with her that he never had before. She could even now be carrying his babe. The thought made him want to take her again to ensure the chances, but he didn’t want to push her too far too fast.

Their time in Edinburgh couldn’t end soon enough. He wanted to get her out of here and back to Kentillie where they both belonged together. He would have to let Lachlan, Malcolm, and Elspeth know of his intentions, and he would deal with the consequences as they came.

“Ye are certain your brother isnae angry and would welcome a union between us?”

It was a little late now to second-guess. Lingering doubts assailed him as her hand brushed across the sensitive spot on his cheek that would purple from Lachlan’s blow before the day was out.

“Aye, they will be happy. They love ye and will be thankful for ye bringing me home.”

Her gaze ventured from his face to glance appreciatively at his chest and then farther down. She turned onto her elbow and lowered her hand to graze her fingers along his ribs and down to the hair near his cock. An involuntary shudder ran through him, and he felt himself start to grow again.

Her explorations took her back to his side and ribs. He flinched and stifled a laugh. A devilish smile crossed her lips. “I had forgotten how ticklish ye are.”

Kirstie swiped across his sensitive skin again, and he tried to pull back out of her reach as laughter exploded from him. She followed and rolled on top of his chest. His laughter stopped as she sat up and straddled to pin him while she attempted to tickle him again. All feeling from his side had moved to his newly erect cock. It was propped up and ready just behind her ass.

“I always loved chasing ye around.”

“Aye, and I can tolerate it if ye are going to sit astride me with no’ a stitch on.”

He was certain his eyes darkened as her wet passage rubbed against his pubic area. He reached up and took her hands to still her, careful with the wrist that had been injured the evening before. “Ye are trying to drive me mad, kitten.”

He pulled one hand behind her back and touched his cock with it. “Feel what ye do to me, lass.”

His eyes fluttered back as her long fingers glided up his length. It was not a smart move on his part, because it pushed her breasts out for him to see and the caress of her hand nearly made him lose control.

“Can we? Is it too soon?” The eager gleam in her eyes tempted him, and he grew harder.

“I assure ye we can. But ’twill make ye sore.”

“I dinnae mind. ’Twill only give me proof that this day wasnae a dream.”

Oh to hell with waiting. He’d waited long enough.

If she had more experience, he’d impale her and thrust into her from below. As much as he wanted her to ride astride him, it would be too much, so he gently rolled her over and took her again, but this time more slowly. Savoring the moment and disregarding the niggling worry that once they left this room, his newfound hope for the future would be ripped away like an unmoored boat in stormy water.