Page 10

M abel could scarcely believe that her parents had not protested the marriage and that they had been able to elicit a reaction from the boys as well.

Ollie had taken to her mother, and Connor to her father. It seemed Ollie had a soft spot for bonny women. He would no doubt grow into a heartbreaker.

Mabel turned onto her side, remembering the scene with her parents and the children, and wondered if she would ever have bairns with the Laird.

Would they have her hair and his eyes?

She really liked his eyes. They were expressive and so deep that she often felt like she was drowning when she looked into them.

Soon, the Laird would be her husband, and the knowledge had her flushing. She wasn’t totally unaware of what happened between men and women, and the thought that he might know her so intimately made her worry.

What if he wasn’t pleased with her?

A knock sounded at her door, drawing her out of her thoughts. Thankfully, she hadn’t been so lost in thought that she didn’t hear this time.

She bid entry without asking who it was, not bothering to don her gown, since it was likely a maid or her mother visiting so late. But when she saw the hulking frame of a man, she sat up, worried that she was being attacked.

The Laird warned her that she could be in danger as well if she married him, but she hadn’t expected it would happen so quickly.

“Who are ye?” she asked, drawing the bedcovers tightly around her.

“Were ye expecting someone else?” his voice asked.

The Laird had come to her chamber?

She scampered quickly to her feet as her heart rate quickened. They were alone in her chamber, and she was scarcely dressed. It was impropriety at its height, and that could have been the reason for the deep frown he sported.

“Nay, Me Laird,” she answered, remembering his question. “I thought ye were an intruder come to harm me.”

His frown softened a bit, but his expression darkened as he looked down at her garb. He cleared his throat and lifted his eyes to her face.

“Do ye still want to marry me?” he asked, surprising her.

How many times did he expect her to say it?

Her anger flared. Why was he asking her again after she had expressed her desire so strongly in front of her parents? Was he already regretting his decision?

She didn’t think she would be able to live past the embarrassment if he chose to end their engagement.

“I have said so several times, Me Laird,” she huffed, unable to hide her displeasure.

“I told ye I will do anything for the boys, and marrying ye allows me to care for them as I promised I would. If ye dinnae want to marry me, I will understand, but ye must allow me to take the boys with me. I willnae stand for it if yer new bride mistreats them.”

His nostrils flared. “Nay one can hurt them while they’re here.”

“Ye willnae always be with them, Me Laird,” she pointed out. “Isnae that why ye want a governess?”

He glared hard at her. “I didnae come here for ye to question me, lass,” he spat.

“Then ye shouldnae question me, Me Laird,” she shot back with a glare of her own.

“Ye were trembling when I mentioned the marriage to yer parents,” he stated. “It only stood to reason ye may nae want the marriage anymore.”

She was surprised that he had noticed. She had been so overwhelmed with the weight of her parents’ displeasure and had struggled to explain herself when they started one of their lectures.

She used to think she hid her inability to express her thoughts well, but, of course, his intelligent eyes caught everything.

“It wasnae for the reasons ye think,” she explained, mortified. “I have made up me mind—I will marry ye.”

He nodded. “I only wanted to be sure,” he told her, his eyes softening. “Ye seem to have difficulty speaking yer mind, and I am nae in the habit of making martyrs.”

Mabel scoffed, folding her arms. “I dinnae intend to be a martyr, Me Laird.” She frowned. “I willnae let meself be tortured. If I didnae want the match, I wouldnae have agreed to it.”

The Laird gave a wolfish grin in the dark that sent a thrill down her back.

“Ye speak boldly now, lass,” he said, stepping closer. “Becoming me wife becomes ye.”

He liked it when she spoke her mind?

She had been taught never to speak back to her husband and to always put his desires above hers. But the Laird didn’t seem offended by her.

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

He stepped closer then, fingering a lock of her hair. Her skin heated at the intimacy of the action, her breath hitching in anticipation.

“Ye might want to marry me for the boys, but ye must ken ye will be me wife,” he said softly, nuzzling her hair. “In every sense of the word. Ye will be mine, to do with as I please.”

He leaned so close that his masculine scent overpowered her, but it was nothing compared to the feel of his lips on the junction between her neck and shoulder.

It felt as though lightning had shot through her, and she felt its impact all the way to her toes. Even her scalp tingled with awareness of him.

She knew he was only trying to push her, to see if she truly understood what she was resigning herself to, and the thought that he would think her weak had her squaring her shoulders.

“Ye will be mine in body and mind,” he whispered against her sensitive skin, nipping it lightly. “Ye willnae be allowed to deny me me desires. Do ye still want to be married to me? I am a man of many desires.”

She wondered at the strange man touching her, even though his caresses didn’t leave much room for logical thought. He was confirming her thoughts that he became a different creature at night.

Her body burned where his hands and lips touched, and she felt a strange liquid heat pooling in her center. Was this what it was like between married couples?

“Answer me, lassie,” he purred, nipping her playfully. “Do ye still want to be mine? To have and to hold?”

She nodded, unable to form words as his hands traveled to skim the underside of her heavy breasts. The light fabric of her shift brushed her sensitive nipples, sending a rush of pleasure through her that had her pushing out her breasts, as though offering them to him.

He cupped them lightly and then firmly, groaning against her skin as he did. Each caress and stroke over her breasts sent sparks of heat down to her core, where a pulse beat wildly.

His teeth had not left her neck, and she knew that come morning, there would be a mark she wouldn’t be able to explain without blushing.

She knew he was being entirely improper, since they weren’t yet wed, but she could not stop him. If he stopped now, she felt she would die.

“Use yer words, lass.” He nipped her again. “I want to hear ye say it.”

“I am yers,” she gasped. “To have and to hold.”

She could tell her words surprised him, for he pulled back and nodded, dropping his hands.

Is he leaving?

“I shall bid ye?—”

She pressed her lips to his, swallowing his words. There was no way she would let him leave, not when he had set off feelings inside her that she could not understand or handle.

He wanted to know if she would marry him, didn’t he?

This was her answer.

She would not be scared if he chose to touch her.

She had sworn to protect the boys, and if becoming his was the only way to do so, then she would gladly give herself.

Her body felt taut, like a bow that had been pulled, and she suspected it was only he who could bring her relief.

He stiffened at first, and she feared she had been too forward. But just as she made to pull back, he wrapped his arms around her, deepening their kiss.

He groaned against her lips, kissing her like a man starved. She had never been kissed before, and she struggled to keep up with his fervor. He stole her breath and quite possibly her senses as his lips claimed hers.

She had never thought kissing would be like this. Her heart raced, and she feared it would burst out of her chest with how hard it pounded. Pressed so tightly against him, she could tell his heart was beating as fast as hers.

She slid her hand up his shoulder and buried it in the hair at the nape of his neck, moaning at the softness beneath her fingers. He pulled her harder into him, such that she felt her feet lift off the floor. If she weren’t holding onto him, she might have fallen.

“Wrap yer legs around me, lass,” he ordered.

She obeyed, and he resumed kissing her till she felt her back hit a wall. Her hand hadn’t left his hair, and she thought that if she died because of his kisses, it would be a good way to go.

He pressed her against the wall, and she was suddenly aware of a very hard member poking her most intimate place.

She whimpered when his hips shifted and created friction where she hadn’t realized she needed it.

He thrust his hips again, and her head fell back on a wordless scream as pleasure crashed over her.

Soon, she felt him begin to pull away, and he lowered her onto her feet. She extricated herself from him and pulled her lip between her teeth.

Was that all?

Surely there was something more? Her body still craved it, even though she didn’t know what to name the feeling. She squirmed as more liquid heat pooled between her legs.

“Dinnae worry, lass. In due time, ye will ken all there is,” he murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Sleep well.”

As if she would be able to.

Her body felt alive with sensations she had never felt before, and there was a strange pulse between her legs she couldn’t understand.

How was a woman to sleep when a man had wreaked such pleasure on her senses?

The second he left her chambers, Campbell dashed to the loch, where he knew the frigid waters would calm the rage simmering in his blood.

He was a damn fool, playing the game he had, but he hadn’t been expecting the lass to kiss him. He was powerless to resist, for he had imagined tasting her lips so many times since she had uttered her first word in his presence.

He knew he had been playing a dangerous game by going to her chambers so late at night, but he had believed his self-control would prevail over the temptation that was his future wife.

He had told her they would have naught but a marriage in words, but seeing her in her translucent shift, the light behind silhouetting her shapely form, he had been in trouble.

His cock had thickened to near bursting in his trews, and when she had kissed him, he had wanted to claim her right there and then, so she would know better than to stoke fires she couldn’t control.

He had not been prepared for the beautiful sight of her ire or the curve of her lips as she spoke.

He had meant it when he told her he liked it when she spoke her mind. He might not always appreciate it, but he was aroused by the sight.

He undressed quickly and dove under the frigid waters, groaning. He had visited the loch more often since her arrival than he had in months, and it was only self-control that had stopped him from pumping his shaft until he found relief from the lust in his blood.

He couldn’t deny that he was sorely tempted to have a marriage that would ensure his bed was warmed every night, but he couldn’t afford to grow complacent. She could end up falling in love with him and start demanding more than he could give.

He recalled her moans and sighed, diving under the water again. It might kill him to stay so long under the cold water, but his desire for her would kill him quicker.

He really needed a way to resist his soon-to-be wife before she had him soundly in her thrall.

But the fact remained, he had been right about her breasts.

They were, indeed, handfuls.