Page 45 of A Rogue in Twilight (The Whisky Rogues #2)

She shivered again and removed her bonnet, for its curvature obscured her vision in the dark little cave.

As she set it down her hair slid free of its pins.

When James picked up one of the plaid blankets and draped it around her shoulders, she smiled her thanks and sighed, leaning into his embrace as he pressed his cheek against her head.

Married and in love. She had declared it—but was it enough to ward off the Fey?

Holding the candle, James went to the shadows at the back of the sloping cave. “There is another space back here,” he said, and ducked, then disappeared into the darkness, taking the glowing candlelight with him.

Elspeth hurried to follow, stooping to look. Her shivers were not entirely from cold, for the feeling of dread remained. Where he went, she would go too.

The cleft in the rock was narrow, but she slid through easily, following the light of the candle James held aloft.

“What is this?” She looked around. The space was like a narrow tunnel that dissolved into blackness beyond. She could hear the faint drip of water.

“A natural channel in the rock.” James moved cautiously ahead, following the curving walls, and she followed slowly. As he ran his hands along the rock to explore its character, she noticed pools of shadow and deep recesses ahead.

He picked up a loose rock and tapped on the rock walls. The sound echoed, and something broke away. He extended his hand to show her a chunk of colored stone.

“What is that?”

He moved it into the candlelight and she saw a green glow.

“Agate. Not your blue sort, but good agate nonetheless. An excellent find. I must come back up here to make detailed notes and get more samples. Caves and passages like this are sometimes clustered together, so there could be much to explore. I doubt the smugglers have been back here, for the rock looks undisturbed.”

“It is a good place to hide something, though.”

“Aye, but so far I wonder if we would find any treasure in here.”

Elspeth sighed. “You may be right.”

He put an arm around her shoulders. “It was worth coming in here. We are handfasted, my love. There is that.”

“Worth more than agates and granite layers,” she said with a small laugh.

“I know you are disappointed that we are not finding what you hoped for.”

“A bit,” she confessed. Her dread over her upcoming birthday and the possible trouble it might bring was not alleviated. “Well. Should we go back now?”

“But we are so nicely alone here.” He pulled her closer, skimming his hands downward, raising delicious shivers in her. Resting her hands on his chest, she felt a wonderful, tender pulsing inside as her heartbeat quickened.

“Very alone here,” she said. “No treasure. No smugglers. No Lowland guests.”

“And no fairies but the beautiful one in my arms,” he whispered. She laughed quietly, pressing into his arms as he kissed her, deep and lingering.

He took her hand and led her back toward the small cave, and took one of the plaids stored there, spreading it on the floor, bringing her down to join him. He set the flaming candle on the rock ledge, its low light like a flow of gold.

As he knelt with her and took her full into his arms, she drew in a breath as he kissed her, his hands slipping over her jacket, the buttons there.

She undid them quickly as he kissed her again, the chill air making her shiver.

But his kiss warmed, and his touch teased the neckline of her gown where her lace-edged shift peeked.

James traced his fingers over her collarbones and brushed lower.

Spreading a hand over his chest, she felt his heartbeat beneath her fingers, fast as thunder. Deep in his embrace, lost in rich kisses and caresses, she sighed as he nuzzled his lips over her cheek, her ear. She felt sultry, warmed, filling with heat.

“Did you know,” she whispered, “that handfasting is legal in Scotland by the old laws, but no more binding than an engagement unless it is consummated?”

“I did not. We had best make this unquestionably legal,” he said.

“Aye,” she agreed as he took her lips again. She moaned, arched against him.

“Odd,” he said. “It is as if time has slowed inside here, do you feel it?”

“I do feel that.” She closed her eyes, breathed in the odd sense of magic, desire, a leisurely stretching of time, as if her dread had lifted and she had no need to leave the place now.

With him, she could trust that all was well.

Once she set foot outside again, it might return, but she would be changed.

She was changing, beginning to expand beyond the girl she had been, becoming a woman with a stronger sense of power, of purpose.

He kissed her again and her thoughts vanished like shadows before light. She bent her head back, accepting, sighing, feeling good and safe, loved and cherished. Time dissolved and passion warmed the atmosphere.

As he kissed her again, lips tracing downward, she felt a tenderness burgeon in her, limbs gone buttery as she moaned and sank with him to the nest of blankets.

As they stretched out together, as he pressed his muscled body against hers, hard to soft, yield to thrust, she knew he felt urgent with passion, as she did.

When he traced his fingers over her throat and upper chest, her heart leaped.

She arched to ask for more, savoring the supple touch of fingertips that grazed over her skin, making her breath catch, heart pound.

Where his hands moved, she breathed, moaned, encouraged him to more.

His hands were compelling, gentle, raising desire in her like lightning, like magic.

She pressed against him, her ache for him matching his hunger, and the surge of love that filled her started tears in her eyes.

She rounded hands over his shoulders, his back, sliding under his shirt, letting her hands, her lips, her body tell him what she felt and what she wanted.

He worked at small buttons and rucked up fabric and she helped, she invited, she deeply wanted the exquisite feeling of his touch.

Then he kissed her, rolling with her in the piled plaids.

“This is right,” she whispered. “This was meant to be.”

“Love,” he said, and kissed her again, flaring his big hands over her hips, bringing her to him as she shifted, opened for him, arched.

Circling her arms around his shoulders, she stretched back, then surged with him as he delved.

A kind of honey and fire ran all through her as she went into a cadence with him, sweet and hard, body and soul, time vanishing as the promise they made quickened.