Page 9 of Highland Heroine (Brides of the Highlands #3)

He leaned in even closer, his lips just a hair’s breadth from hers. “Then I’ll spend all night convincing ye otherwise,” he murmured, before finally closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

The newlywed’s passionate embrace deepened as Moira ran her fingers through Brodie’s dark hair. His strong hands roamed her body, tracing curves he had only dared dream of touching before tonight.

Moira pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed. “Careful, me brave warrior,” she whispered with a playful smile. “You’re still healing.”

“For you, me bonnie lass, I can endure anything,” Brodie murmured, gently kissing the soft skin of her neck. Moira sighed with pleasure, tilting her head to give him better access.

Their wedding clothes fell away piece by piece until there was nothing left between them but heat and desire. Brodie gazed at his new wife in awe, marveling at her wild beauty.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed reverently.

Moira smiled, a blush coloring her cheeks. “As are you, me husband,” she whispered, her hands exploring the hard planes of Brodie’s chest, mindful of his bandaged wound.

Brodie gathered her in his arms, the warmth of their bare skin igniting sparks of passion. He kissed her deeply, pouring all his love and longing into the caress of his lips. Moira responded with equal fervor, her body molding to his.

Gently, Brodie laid her down on the bed, hovering over her. His dark eyes glittered with desire in the firelight. “I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he confessed huskily.

“As have I,” Moira breathed, pulling him down for another searing kiss. Her fingers danced over his back, tracing the scars that told stories of battles past.

Brodie pressed his body against hers, the heat between them rising with each fervent caress. His lips traced a path from her mouth down the graceful column of her neck. Moira gasped as he found a sensitive spot, arching into his touch.

His hands skimmed over her breasts, thumbs brushing her peaked nipples as she shivered with pleasure. Brodie took his time worshipping her body, paying reverence to every freckle and curve.

Moira’s own hands were not idle. She explored the hard planes of his warrior’s physique, fingertips gliding over ridged abdominal muscles that quivered at her touch. Lower still, she grasped him, stroking his hard length. Brodie groaned, momentarily overtaken by the sensation.

“Moira, lass, ye undo me,” he rasped.

Brodie captured Moira’s lips in a searing kiss, his ardor raging like wildfire. She returned it fervently, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.

His calloused hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow. Moira gasped as his fingers found her most sensitive places, stoking the flames of her desire to new heights. She arched into his touch, silently begging for more.

Brodie needed no further encouragement. With a soft growl, he positioned himself at her entrance. Their eyes locked, speaking volumes without uttering a word—love, trust, commitment, passion. Then with a powerful thrust of his hips, he joined them as one.

Moira cried out, overwhelmed by the exquisite fullness of him inside her. Brodie stilled, allowing her a moment to adjust to his size. He peppered her face with gentle kisses, whispering sweet Gaelic words of love and devotion against her flushed skin.

When Moira’s hips began to undulate beneath him, Brodie took it as a sign to move. He withdrew almost completely before surging forward again, starting a rhythm as old as time itself. Moira met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him impossibly deeper.

Their coupling was as wild and untamed as the Highland moors—a clash of lips, limbs, and heated flesh. Brodie drove into her with powerful strokes, spurred on by her breathy moans and the rake of her nails down his back.

The world fell away until there was nothing but this moment—the slide of sweat-slicked skin, the mingling of gasping breaths, the intensity of their connection. Brodie moved within Moira, pushing them both toward the precipice of ecstasy.

Moira felt the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in her core with each powerful thrust. Her fingers dug into the firm muscles of Brodie’s back as she held on, lost in the sensations overtaking her body.

“Brodie, I…something is happening…” she managed to gasp out, her voice hitching.

Brodie’s dark eyes locked onto hers, pupils blown wide with passion. “Let go for me, mo gràidh,” he urged huskily, his brogue thickened with desire. “I’ve got you.”

His words were her undoing. With a keening cry, Moira shattered, waves of pure bliss crashing over her. Her body clenched around Brodie’s as the intense pleasure radiated out to her very fingertips.

Brodie groaned, the feel of her pulsing around him almost too much to bear. With a few more erratic thrusts, he followed her over the edge. A hoarse shout tore from his throat as he emptied himself deep inside her welcoming heat.

They clung to each other as they came down from their high, chests heaving and hearts pounding in sync. Brodie pressed his forehead to Moira’s, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

“Mo chridhe, mo bhean,” he murmured reverently. “My heart, me wife.”

As the moon illuminated the Highlands, Brodie and Moira lay entwined, their hearts synchronized with Scotland’s ancient rhythms. The world of clans and conflicts faded, leaving only the united warrior and strategist within the chamber’s walls.

Flickering candlelight succumbed to darkness as Brodie and Moira embraced the night. Their rhythmic breathing intertwined with whispers of wind that danced around the heavy tapestries in their chamber.

Moira nestled closer, her head resting on Brodie’s chest, a gentle weight above his heartbeat. Her red hair spilled over him like autumn leaves, carrying the earthy scent of peat smoke. His arm encircled her slender form, wincing when she grazed his bandaged shoulder.

“Forgive me,” she whispered.

“Think nothing of it,” he reassured, adjusting to ease her concern. The warmth of her skin challenged the chill Highland air seeping through the cracks in their stronghold.

In the silence, Brodie considered seeking out the services of the healer from his own clan but decided that some things were worth waiting for.

“Ye should’ve let Ailis tend to ye more,” Moira said, fingers tracing his uninjured arm.

“Rest,” he replied, kissing her head. “Tonight, we have each other—and that is enough.”

As they surrendered to sleep, Brodie’s last thought was of gratitude for Moira’s indomitable spirit.