Page 36 of Hunted By the Cruel Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #1)

Hector guided Gabriella into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind them. The familiar sounds of the castle—servants preparing for the evening, guards changing shifts, and the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen—wrapped around them like a comforting blanket.

“She’s going to be fine,” Gabriella said, though Hector heard the lingering worry in her voice.

“Aye. She’s tougher than leather, me maither.” He paused, studying her face in the torchlight. “How are ye feelin’? Truly?”

“Tired. Grateful. Ready for tomorrow.” She met his gaze steadily. “Ready to be yer wife.”

The simple words hit him like a physical blow, awakening something primal and possessive in his chest. Tomorrow suddenly felt like an eternity away.

“Gabriella…” His voice came out rougher than intended.

“Aye?”

“Come.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “Let’s get ye some food and rest.”

But as they walked toward the Great Hall, Hector found his thoughts turning in a dangerous direction. She’d said she was ready to be his wife. And after today, after nearly losing her, the careful boundaries he’d maintained between them felt increasingly meaningless.

“Hector?” Gabriella’s voice was soft, concerned. “Ye’ve gone very quiet.”

He stopped walking and turned to face her in the shadowed alcove between two doorways. In the torchlight, her face was all sharp angles and soft curves, beautiful and alive and his.

“Gabriella… today changed somethin’ for me.”

“What do ye mean?”

“I mean,” he said slowly, “that the weddin’ cannae come soon enough.”

Understanding flickered in her eyes, followed by something that might have been relief. “For me neither.”

“The careful courtship, the proper boundaries…” He stepped closer, backing her gently against the stone wall. “None of that matters anymore, does it?”

“Did it ever?” Her hands came up to rest on his chest, her touch burning through his shirt. “We’ve been dancin’ around this for weeks, both of us pretendin’ we dinnae want…”

“What?” His voice was barely audible. “What do we want?”

“Each other.” The words came out breathless but certain. “Completely. Tonight.”

The admission hit him like a blow to the gut. She was offering herself to him—not tomorrow after proper vows, but now, tonight, when they both needed the connection more than they needed propriety.

“Gabriella,” he growled low, his eyes dark with want, “if we do this now, there’s nay going back. I’ll claim every inch of ye tonight, and tomorrow the whole kirk will see exactly what kind of beast yer husband truly is when he looks at his bride.”

“Good.” Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. “I dinnae want to pretend anymore. I want to be yers, Hector. Completely yers. And I want ye to be mine.”

The possessive certainty in her voice shattered the last shreds of his control. Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his.

“What are ye doing?” she gasped, though her arms immediately went around his neck.

“Takin’ ye to me chambers. Claimin’ what’s mine.”

His voice was rough with need and determination.

“Gabriella.” Her name was a prayer on his lips

“Aye?”

“I hope ye’re ready for this. Because after today, after nearly losin’ ye…” He paused at the door to his chambers, looking down into her flushed face. “I dinnae think I can hold back anymore.”

Her smile was soft and knowing and full of promises that made his blood simmer.

“Then dinnae,” she whispered. “Dinnae hold back. I’m ready for everythin’ ye want to give me.”

Everythin’.

The heavy oak door closed behind them with a soft thud as Hector kicked it shut, the sound somehow final and momentous. He set Gabriella down gently, his hands lingering on her waist as they faced each other in the flickering candlelight.

The room had been transformed for their wedding night—rich tapestries hung from the walls, fresh rushes covered the floor, and dozens of candles cast everything in warm, golden light. Rose petals were scattered across the massive room, and the scent of lavender and honeysuckle filled the air.

“It’s beautiful,” Gabriella whispered, her eyes taking in the romantic preparations.

“Nae as beautiful as ye,” Hector said softly, his hands cupping her face. “Are ye sure about this, lass? Once we cross this line…”

“Nay holdin’ back.” She echoed his earlier words, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart. “I want all of ye, Hector. Everythin’ ye’ve been holdin’ back.”

Something fierce and hungry took over his expression. He looked at her like a predator who’d finally been unleashed to hunt. His voice was rougher when he spoke her name. “Gabriella…”

“I love ye,” she said fiercely, her hands fisting in his shirt. “I love ye, and I trust ye, and I want to be yers completely. Nae tomorrow, nae after we say our vows in front of half the Highlands, but now. Tonight.”

“Then ye’ll have all of me,” he said roughly. “Body and soul, lass. Everythin’ I am.”

His hands moved to the laces at the back of her dress, pausing for one last moment of confirmation. At her nod, he began to untie them, his fingers reverent and gentle.

“That night at the tavern, the way ye made me feel… I’ve dreamed of this,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “Of being with ye, of knowin’ what it feels like to belong to someone completely.”

“Ye already belong to me,” he murmured against her ear as her dress pooled at her feet. “And I belong to ye. This just makes it… official.”

Her soft laugh turned into a gasp as his lips found the sensitive spot below her ear. “Hector…”

“Tell me what ye want,” he said, his voice rough with need yet tender.

“Just… dinnae hold back,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“Never again,” he promised, gathering her close. “Never again, mo chridhe.”

Her bare skin flushed under the firelight, every curve exposed to his hungry eyes.

“Ye’re bonny,” he breathed, “and burnin’ for me. I can see it plain as day.”

He pressed his mouth to hers again, slow and deep, claiming her with a hunger that stole her breath. His hands slid down to cup her breasts, his thumbs tracing lazy circles over the taut peaks until a sharp ache bloomed beneath his touch.

She trembled, her lips parting as his mouth left hers to trail hot kisses down her neck.

When he pulled back, his breath hot on her skin, Gabriella gasped with desire. But Hector said softly, “Now, lass, it’s time ye learn to pleasure me properly.”

Her hands trembled, unsure. “How do I… pleasure ye?” she asked, voice small but eager.

He smiled—a slow, teasing curl of his lips. “Come here, Gabriella. I’ll show ye.”

Guiding her gently, he taught her the right touch, the right pace.

“Ye’re new to this, but ye’re a quick learner. Just watch me, follow me lead.”

She took his manhood into her hands and lips, nervous but determined. His encouraging words—“Aye, just like that… gentle now… perfect, lass”—spurred her on. The way his manhood pulsed in her mouth sent heat straight to her core.

He pulled away, guiding her to sit on the very edge of the bed. His strong hands parted her thighs gently but firmly, lifting her legs so that her feet rested on the mattress, exposing her slick, waiting flesh. Kneeling before her, his breath ghosted over her heated folds, heavy with promise.

“Tell me, Gabriella.” His voice was low, rough with desire. “Would ye rather I take ye slow, or do ye want me to take ye hard? Would ye like me to tease ye like I did the other night?”

A shiver ran through her as her hips bucked slightly, craving his touch. Her voice came out as a whisper, heavy with need. “Hard… slow… just more, Hector.”

He chuckled deep and warm, his tongue darting over her tender nub with teasing precision, coaxing soft moans from her lips. His fingers slipped inside, curling expertly, coaxing her closer to the edge. Her back arched, her breath catching as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her.

“Hector…” she gasped, lost in the exquisite torment of his touch.

He pulled back, his voice low and husky. “Ye’re mine, Gabriella. Me Highland flower.” His hand traced her side, firm and possessive. “Say ye want me deep inside ye. Say it loud, and I’ll give ye everything ye desire.”

Her eyes met his, but she could not focus. “I want ye. Deep,” she breathed.

He lifted her gently, his hands firmly cupping her buttocks, holding her steady. With a low growl of satisfaction, he eased his manhood inside her, slow and deliberate, each inch filling her completely.

The stretch was deep and thrilling, a delicious ache that tightened around him as he paused, letting her adjust to his size.

Then, he settled into long, steady thrusts—measured and sure—sending heat spiraling through her with every movement.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, guiding her as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, the world narrowing down to the press and pull of skin and muscle, breath and desire entwined.

“Ye feel so tight, so warm,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Ye make me want to bury meself in ye forever.”

He lifted her legs over his shoulders. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him as his pace quickened. Their breaths mingled, ragged and desperate.

“Would ye like me to go faster, Gabriella? Would ye like me to show ye what passion truly means?” he asked between thrusts.

She nodded, her voice trembling. “Yes… faster… please, Hector.”

He unleashed himself then, wild and fierce, driving deep with each movement. Her cries filled the room, echoing off the stone walls and mingling with his low growls.

His fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her closer as his breathing quickened. “God, Gabriella, ye’ll be the death of me.”

Her cheeks flushed, proud and shy all at once. “Am I doin’ it right?” she asked quietly.

His laughter rumbled like distant thunder. “Aye, I’ve never been so hot for it.”