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Moira stared at him, open-mouthed with shock, for a moment. “It’s late, My Laird. Whatever it is, it can wait till morning.”

However, before she could shut the door in his face, he almost casually raised his right hand, palm first, and stopped the door’s closing arc. As she had found before, there was no point in trying to beat Niall in a contest of strength; he was simply too powerful.

“Are you afraid of me, Moira?” he asked gently, with an expression of deep concern on his face. “Because there is no need to be. I will never harm you. I promise you that.”

“I am not afraid of you,” she snapped. “I am sick and tired of you. You are torturing me. Why did you kiss me when you know you are marrying another woman in a matter of weeks? Why do you not just leave me alone? I will be gone as soon as I possibly can anyway. Get out and leave me be!”

Moira was just about to try to push him again, but quickly realised the futility of doing such a thing. Instead, she glared at him, but his eyes, which she had always found so mesmerising, were her undoing. She could not tear her gaze away from him.

Niall heard the rage in her voice and immediately knew it for what it was; jealousy. He realised that Moira could only be jealous if she had feelings for him—after all, what other reason could there be?

Niall backed her against the wall, and realised how ethereal and insubstantial she was compared to him. She resembled his idea of an elf, with her pale, translucent skin and eyes like hazy blue-white clouds.

As he thought of this, his gaze dropped to her lips, so full and ripe, and he felt his manhood surging into life.

Is there not an inch of you that is not absolutely gorgeous? he thought.

He was nearly unable to think straight, but then realised with astonishment that Moira had not tried to get away from him, and as he closed the space between them, he suddenly realised why.

Moira’s eyes fixed on his lips. She was fighting the urge to pull Niall’s head down to hers and kiss him with all her might.

Why should I resist this? It may never happen to me again. Do I not deserve all the pleasure I can get? I am leaving soon, so if I lie with him, the memory might last me for a lifetime. Should I not enjoy it just this once? What harm can it do?

Moira opened her eyes wide and tilted her face up to Niall’s. She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his forefinger against her lips to stop her. When he spoke, his voice was throbbing with need.

“Do you know what you do to me?” he asked. “I think about you every minute of every day, Moira. Ever since the first moment I saw you I’ve wanted you. You are driving me mad. I’m even thinking of calling off my betrothal. Do you know how that feels?”

“Yes, Niall,” she replied. “I do because I want you too.”

Niall’s eyes widened with surprise for a moment, then he smiled. “Good,” he whispered, before his lips descended on hers in a kiss of smouldering passion.

The last time they had kissed had been passionate but gentle, but this was something else altogether, and Moira moaned aloud at the sensual onslaught of Niall’s lips on hers.

She could only call it one thing; possession, and for the first time in her life, she was happy to give herself to a man, but only this one, special, beautiful man. Moira’s body was telling her so, too; she was moist and throbbing in the special place between her legs, and her nipples were hard and tingling.

At last, they drew apart, and after one last lingering glance, Niall drew Moira away, took her hand and led her towards the bed. He sat down on it and pulled her gently onto his lap then folded his arms around her, taking a deep breath to savour her heavenly scent. He had dreamed of this, just holding Moira, letting her lean her head on his shoulder while they heard nothing but each other’s breathing.

But he could not help himself from going further. He kissed her again and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb, then his fingertips travelled down the sensitive skin of her throat.

Moira’s mind had been completely jumbled and blurred by every new sensation Niall was arousing. She felt as though she had deserted the world and gone to another, one where all that existed were the two of them and the thick atmosphere of sheer pleasure Niall had created for her. At that moment, she was the only woman in existence, and if the world ended now, she would die happy.

“You are perfect.” Niall’s voice was a husky whisper as he moved his hand down to cup her breast, feeling the little pebble of her hard nipple under his palm. He cursed the fabric of the dress that separated them, but moved his mouth down to suck it into his mouth and tease it with his tongue before biting it in a gentle, teasing way.

The sensation of pleasure was so acute that it shot straight to Moira’s core, and she gave a little scream as she fell back on the bed, her whole body throbbing. Niall ran his hands over her breasts, her stomach, her thighs and said, “You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen, Moira. You do things to me that no other woman has ever done. You make me want to be a better man just for you.”

“You don’t have to be better,” Moira murmured, then smiled. “You’re perfect just as you are, Niall. There is only one thing wrong with you.”

Niall frowned in disappointment. “What is it, Moira?” he asked fearfully. “Tell me and I will make it right.”

“You have too many clothes on,” she replied, smiling wickedly.

Niall laughed and began to undress while Moira watched him. Yes, she too was throbbing with need, but she wanted to see the unveiling of her lover’s magnificent body as he peeled off his clothes.

She watched as he took off his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and chest, which was lightly dusted with hair. His arms were as muscular as Moira had imagined, and his abdomen was toned and firm. However, his skin was liberally sprinkled with scars, and Moira felt sad as she looked at them. There were two huge ones on his hip and his thigh, both made by the vicious blades of broadswords.

“I see that you are admiring my battle scars,” Niall observed ruefully.

“I have plenty of my own,” Moira remarked sadly. “So we have something in common.”

“It doesn’t make you any less beautiful in my eyes,” Niall said, his voice infinitely gentle. “My mother died giving birth to Glennie, and my father was a tyrant who beat me for the slightest offence. Between him and the battlefield, I lost a lot of blood, and gained many scars, and I never want to wield a sword in anger again. I have never experienced tenderness, but I want to feel it with you. We are birds of a feather, you and I.”

“We are,” Moira murmured softly. She gulped nervously as she watched him unbuckling his kilt, then gasped at what she saw when he removed it and tossed it away.

Niall’s hips were narrow, but his thighs were hugely muscular and looked bulky enough to contain the power of three men. However, it was what was between them that both frightened and fascinated her.

The shaft of Niall’s manhood was both long and thick, and although she had only seen one other naked man in her life, his had looked nothing like this magnificent specimen.

Niall watched Moira’s face as he let his kilt drop to the floor, and was happy to see her eyes widen in amazement. He knew what she was thinking because he had seen the same look on the faces of other women before.

“Come here,” Niall reached out and pulled her to her feet. Then kissed her softly before he began to unbutton the back of her dress, peppering tiny kisses down her spine as he did so.

Moira drew in a breath, hoping that the sensation of Niall’s lips would not be her undoing, since she was already almost melting with desire. She had no idea why she was not terrified after her previous experience on her wedding night, but somehow she knew that being with Niall would be quite different. She had no need to think about it—her whole body was telling her so.

When Niall let her dress drop to the floor and cupped his hands around her breasts, she let out a long moan of pleasure. He began to tease her nipples by twiddling them between his thumb and forefinger, at the same time kissing his way up the side of her neck.

“I cannot stand any more of this,” she said, as she turned to face him. “I need you, Niall, and I cannot wait any longer.”

He smiled at her, then scooped her up and laid her tenderly on the bed before climbing onto it himself. He knelt beside her for a few moments, feasting his eyes on her.

“You are a goddess, Moira. Every inch of you is lovely, ethereal, perfect, and I want to worship you. But I need to be sure that this is what you want?”

Moira looked into the deep green pools of his eyes and almost wept with joy before pulling Niall into her arms. “I want you more than anything else I have ever wanted. Take me, Niall. Make me yours, don’t make me wait any longer, please.”

When Moira felt Niall’s palm on her sex, she was so wet and sensitive that she gave a little squeal of shock. Niall laughed softly.

“You are so wet, you are as ready as I am,” he said huskily. “I have dreamed of this, for so long, Moira.”

He dipped his head to her breast and sucking her nipple into his mouth. As before, he played with her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned with delight.

Moira had never felt anything like the sensation of Niall’s ministrations. Nothing had prepared her for being caressed, teased, almost driven out of her mind with delight. Nothing in the world existed at that moment, only him and his skilful hands that were roaming all over her, making her dizzy with delight. Did all men know how to do this to a woman?

Just then, Moira felt the tip of Niall’s finger touch the sensitive nub at the core of her body, and she cried out at the jolt of pleasure that shot through her. But something better was to come, and Niall raised his head and gave Moira a wicked smile before he dropped his head to kiss his way down to her navel. There he stopped to swirl the tip of his tongue around the little sensitive spot, making Moira giggle.

But he was not finished yet. He kissed his way from her navel down to the top of her thighs, then he gently parted her legs so that her most secret place was open to his view. Moira’s instinct was to close her legs at once, but she could not do so because Niall’s hands were holding her, and they were too strong for her to fight against.

Niall looked into her eyes and saw the doubt there. “Don’t be afraid of me, lovie,” he murmured. “I would never do anything to hurt you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Niall,” she whispered.

He kissed her lips tenderly, then did something that Moira could never have imagined. It was shocking, but utterly delightful.

Niall swept his tongue through Moira’s womanly folds once, twice, three times, then looked up at her to see her reaction. She had thrown her head back and was moaning in delight, and Niall smiled mischievously as he bent to his task once more.

This time he applied himself to her sensitive nub, treating it as he had treated her nipples, sucking and gently biting it, all the while pushing two fingers in and out of her entrance in imitation of what he would do presently with another part of himself.

Moira was writhing on the bed as waves of pleasure washed over her again and again. She fisted her hands in Niall’s thick brown hair, desperate for something, anything to cling onto.

“What are you doing to me?” she gasped, hardly able to speak.

Niall raised his head to look up at Moira, then he lifted himself on his elbows and eased upwards so that he could look into her eyes.

“Are you ready for me, my love?” he asked softly,

“Am I your love?” Moira asked, once more lost in his green eyes.

That was the moment when Niall knew that he loved Moira more than he had ever loved anyone in his life. “You have bewitched me. Be mine, Moira.”

He waited for her to speak.

Moira hesitated for an agonising second or two because a lot rested on her answer. If she told how she felt, and he still married Beitris she would be devastated, but she had to face the truth. The marriage was already set in stone, so she might as well tell Niall how she felt. Her heart would be broken whatever she did.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, and pulled his head down for another searing, smouldering kiss.

When they drew apart, Moira reached down to take him in her hand, and Niall gave a gasp of surprise as her fingers closed around him.

Moira had never felt anything so strange—soft, velvet skin on the surface with some much firmer flesh underneath, and suddenly, she felt a surge of need.

“Take me,” she whispered.

Niall needed no second bidding. He positioned himself at Moira’s entrance, then, looking into her blue eyes all the while, he surged into her, and Moira cried out his name as she felt him fill her.

It was glorious. She lifted her hips up as he thrust, and they began to move together in a rhythm that was as old as time itself. Feeling his flesh rubbing against and inside hers made Moira feel wild and wanton, and she dug her fingers into the hard muscle of Niall’s arms as he moved on her. In the morning, he would have little bruises, but they would not be marks of anger, but of love.

Strangely enough, the pain increased his desire and his thrusts became harder and faster. He had never felt so potently male before, but then he had never been with Moira before. It was heavenly.

Moira felt as though she was climbing, reaching for something that seemed inaccessible, and the harder she strained to reach it, the farther away it seemed to be. But every movement of her body, every thrust of Niall inside her, brought her closer and closer, and the pleasure increased, becoming more and more intense, till finally it exploded and washed over her in a tide of ecstasy.

“Niall!” she screamed, and threw her head back, writhing under him.

Nothing could have prepared her for this unbelievably glorious experience, and it had been given to her by the man she loved more than anyone else in the world.

Niall too had a climax unlike anything he had ever felt before, and he called out Moira’s name as he reached fulfilment, then swiftly withdrew from her and spent himself.

Niall wrapped his arms around Moira and drew her into a warm embrace. At that moment, the world was perfect, and no one existed except the two of them.

Moira lay in the cocoon of Niall’s body and thought that she could have stayed there forever, wrapped in love and held in safety.

“Thank you, Moira,” he whispered. “That was the most wonderful experience of my life.”

“No, thank you, Niall,” she replied with a contented sigh. “I will remember tonight forever.”