Page 22 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

The kiss was filled with heat and hunger, and she found herself craving more with each passing second. His hands roamed over her body, and her skin heated under his touch.

Her body quivered, and a part of her burned at how much more of him she wanted, despite how weak she felt beneath him.

He paused and let his lips brush her ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Tell me, wife. May I take this dress off ye?”

Her answer was a nod that felt foolish and reckless.

He moved slowly, asking again before he pulled the garment up. His mouth grazed her neck, trailing kisses down to her collarbone. Each one sent sparks across her skin and made her breath hitch.

She felt him press against her thigh, hard and urgent, and a gasp escaped her lips. The heat of his length burned even through his trousers, and she had no thought left, only the burning ache of wanting him.

She reached down without thinking, slipping her hand beneath the fabric that separated them, and found him warm and throbbing. His breath caught, and he groaned against her throat.

“Lily,” he rasped. His hand caught hers, gripping it hard. “If ye keep that up, I will lose it right here.”

Her lips parted. She wanted to laugh, but could not.

He kissed her again, deeper, his tongue pushing past her lips as though he could drink her whole. Then, he leaned down. His mouth lingered on her chest. He stayed there, worshipping her with lips and tongue until she could no longer breathe.

A voice in her head screamed that this was the worst idea she had ever had. She tried to say it. She opened her mouth, but the words would not come out. When at last she found her voice, she whispered, “We should stop.”

Alasdair leaned close, his breath warm against the space between her thighs. Her core throbbed, and her hands curled into fists. She resisted the urge to push his head closer.

He looked up, a smug grin playing on his lips. “Do ye truly want me to stop?”

She stared down at him. His eyes shone bright, his expression maddening. Her heart pounded in her chest, then a groan tore from her throat.

“Nay.”

She pushed his face back where she wanted him most.

He did not waste any more time. His mouth closed over her, then he slid his fingers into her, one at a time. He was slow at first, then he used two fingers at once, his pace matching the rhythm of his tongue.

She bucked against him, and his hand pressed firmly on her hip, holding her steady as he drove her higher. Her hand slid into his hair, and she gripped it tight, pulling him closer until she lost herself. She climaxed against his mouth with a cry, her body shaking.

He rose to his feet before her tremors had faded. His lips found hers again, wet and eager. She tasted herself on him, and the shock of it only heightened her frenzy.

Her hands, still shaking, slid down between them. She found his length again, hard and straining, and wrapped her fingers around it, stroking slowly at first.

He groaned into her mouth, and his hand closed over hers, trying to steady her pace, but she ignored him. She stroked faster, driven by the madness still clinging to her skin.

He broke the kiss with a gasp as his head fell against her shoulder. His body shook as she drove him to the edge. Then, with a shudder, he climaxed, his seed hot in her hand.

For a long moment, nothing moved. The storm outside raged on, yet inside the cave was quiet. Their breathing was ragged, the only sound between them and the rain fell, steady and wild.

Lily leaned back against the wall, her chest heaving.

Alasdair gently kissed her forehead. “I always kent it would be like this.” He smiled.

She smiled too, though it was forced. She had also guessed it would be wonderful. And it was. That was the problem.

This should not have happened. She should have protected herself.

She swallowed.

Oh, what did she do? This was the worst thing imaginable.

“Christ!” she groaned.

No other words came, only the pounding of her heart and his groan against her skin.

By the time they reached the castle gates, the rain had ebbed to a soft drizzle. Lily wrapped her arms around herself, more to ward off inappropriate thoughts than the cold. Alasdair walked beside her, his hands folded behind his back.

It was hard to imagine that this was the same man who had made her cry out mere hours ago. She hated the satisfied smile on his face. As if he knew he could control her, no matter how hard she protested.

God, she could still feel him. His touch clung to her skin like the damp air, and she refused to think of it. At least she tried to, because every step made her remember.

“We need to speak about what happened,” she said at last, her voice sharper than she meant.

Alasdair glanced down at her. “Do we now?”

Her cheeks burned. “Aye. It can never happen again. What took place in the cave was a mistake. A one-time thing, nothing more.”

His lips curved. “I didnae think it was a mistake. Is that what ye think it was?” His tone was teasing.

She lifted her chin. “Aye. I wasnae… I wasnae succumbing to ye. Daenae think of it.”

“Then what were ye doing, lass?” His eyes twinkled as if he knew she would struggle with the answer. “Just what?”

Lily’s throat tightened. She forced out the words. “I needed heat.”

He laughed, the sound rich and maddening. “Aye. Ye needed one all right.”

Her jaw clenched. “Aye, the storm. It made me wet.”

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Let us nae give the storm all the credit.”

She shoved his shoulder. He winced and hissed through his teeth. Her eyes widened.

“Yer arm,” she muttered. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

He waved her off. “Daenae think of it. ‘Tis merely a scratch.”

“It isnae a scratch. It is an open wound, and ye will change the bandages before ye sleep tonight. Can ye manage that, Laird MacRay?”

He smirked. “I can. Though I wouldnae mind a softer hand doing it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So use yer other hand.”

His eyes widened in surprise, and she rolled her eyes and hurried away from him. The quicker she reached the wounded hall, the easier it would be to silence her mind. Yet the silence never came.

How could she have let it go so far?

Every image burned her. The look on his annoying face.

On his annoyingly smug, and…and handsome, and chiseled face.

She could almost feel his hand roaming over her skin. Her hand on his body. The heat that had risen while the world outside was cold. And why was she hoping to see his annoying smirk even when they fought? She had yielded. She, who had sworn she would never yield to him again.

She drew a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back. She was a healer, and she had wounded men waiting. That was all that mattered.

Inside the hall, the air smelled of herbs and damp cloth. Sorcha rushed forward to meet her.

Lily handed her the basket of roots. “Boil some water and let some of these steep. I will give them to the man who nearly died earlier.”

Sorcha nodded eagerly. “Aye. At once.” She paused, her eyes bright. “Ye ken, me Lady, ye are more than a healer now. In me eyes, ye are a miracle worker.”

Lily shook her head with a laugh. “Far from it.”

“’Tis the truth. Ye brought him back from the dead.”

“Nay, I didnae. He wasnae dead yet. That is the only reason he returned. I pressed on his chest, and luck was on his side.”

Sorcha lifted her chin. “If ye willnae give yerself the credit, then I will give it for ye.”

Lily laughed again and touched her arm. “Then give it quietly, or else the whole clan will think me a witch.”

Sorcha chuckled and hurried to the fire to tend the roots.

Lily moved down the row of cots, her eyes scanning the wounded. Some dozed fitfully. Others muttered in fever. She bent beside one soldier and checked the bandage on his leg. Infection had not set in yet. She thanked God for that.

“The storm was unexpected, and we didnae prepare well for it,” Sorcha spoke.

Lily exhaled, her eyes still on the wound. “Many things were unexpected today. Daenae think too hard about it.”

The words left her lips before she could stop them. She tied the bandage tighter around the soldier’s leg and prayed Sorcha would not notice.

At that moment, Daisy entered, her arms laden with clean bandages. “Fresh rolls, me Lady.” She bobbed her head with a smile.

“Thank ye,” Lily said, taking them. “Have any letters arrived from me sisters?”

“Nae today. I will check the post again on the morrow.”

“Good. Let me ken the moment they arrive.”

Daisy promised she would and hurried to the other side of the hall.

Lily turned back to her work. Her hands moved steadily, yet her mind refused to slow down. The memory of Alasdair’s touch lingered, no matter how hard she tried to push it aside. The warmth of his lips. The feel of his hand on her waist. The way her body betrayed her with every shiver.

She bent her head and shoved the thought away. The soldiers needed her. She would not falter. She would not let him unravel her again.

Still, as she tied the final knot on the soldier’s bandage, her heart beat too fast, and her cheeks were too warm.

“Fool. Ye foolish, foolish woman,” she muttered under her breath.