Page 48 of My Scarred Laird

He was lying in the bed, his head propped up on his hand.

“Ye are so beautiful my love.”

She felt her cheeks heat and his eyebrows rose, “Shy? Now? Ye who coaxed me inta making love ta her no’ once, but twice last night?”

She smiled, “In the light of day ‘tis different.”

He smirked at her, his lower half barely covered by the blankets, then he slowly rose up, swinging his legs over the bed, and he stood, in all his glory.

He quirked his eyebrow at her, letting her look her fill, seeing all the scars now that he normally tried to hide.

They were all over his legs, the worst right at his knees, and over one of his thighs.

Then it crossed up to his navel, his chest and snaked around his back and rose up to his neck and a little of his face.

One of his arms was covered in them, as well as the back of one of his hands.

He waited for her to look back up at him, and he gestured to his body, “Have I changed in the light of day?”

She shook her head, “Ye are more handsome than ever.”

He walked toward her, his cock growing in length and lifting toward her, “Ye are stunning. It makes me ache all over ta look at yer beauty.”

He reached down and stroked his hand along his cock, “Especially here. I thought this was broken. Tha’ I could never make it harden. No woman ever has. And none, aside from ye will ever do this ta me. Just ye. Ye are so perfect. So mine.”

He reached up to cup her face with his free hand, running his thumb along her cheek.

“Ye give me freedom Islay. Ye make me want ta live and be better than I was yesterday.”

She sucked in her breath, leaning into his touch, dropping her chemise and lifting to her toes to kiss him, “Ye make me want ta do the same.”

He kissed her back, “Go. Get dressed. This body is all mine tonight.”

She nodded, picking up her chemise and pulling it over her head, then she hurried to her rooms, grateful most people avoided this side of the keep.

She washed up, pulling on her last clean dress, knowing she needed to get them all clean and brushed out her hair, then braided it down her back.

When she was done, she slipped a pair of soft shoes on, then went back to meet Callum.

He was coming out of his room, pulling his hair back with a piece of leather, showing off his handsome face.

She sucked in a breath, noting the sword at his side, and he smiled down at her, “Good ‘morrow lass.”

“Good ‘morrow.”

He held out his arm, and she put hers in the crook he made, “Are ye ready ta break yer fast?”

She nodded, “Aye. I’m starving. Someone wore me out last night.”

He chuckled, and led her down to the great hall, and to the high table.

There were still whispers from some of the people, but they weren’t of anger.

Just speculation. She heard one woman say, “Why would someone tha’ beautiful wish ta be with the scarred laird?”

Her friend shook her head and Islay sighed, fighting not to yell at the girls.

Couldn’t they see how wonderful Callum was? Not to mention handsome.