Page 5 of Rescued by the Highland Warrior (The MacKinloch Clan #4)

“D ougal!” Lady Marguerite hurried forward to greet them. “What a wonderful surprise!” A genuine smile spread over the woman’s face. She had married his brother Callum years ago, and Dougal still viewed her as an angel. After Callum had been freed from prison, he’d lost his voice. Only Marguerite had been able to bring him back out of the years of torture.

Within moments, his brother appeared, holding the hand of his eldest son, Ailric. The lad gripped a bow in his hand, and at the sight of the boy, Dougal smiled. He’d carved that bow himself, out of an ash tree. The boy had spent three years at Glen Arrin but visited his parents often. Marguerite had insisted that she did not want her children forgetting who their mother and father were during their fostering.

Dougal helped Celeste dismount and led her forward. “This is Celeste de Laurent, Lady of Eiloch. Her escorts were killed on her way to Glen Arrin. I’ve promised her my protection until she can return to her sister.”

Celeste greeted Marguerite, and while the two women spoke, his older brother sent him a silent question. Dougal didn’t know how to answer for he hadn’t decided what would become of them. Celeste’s revelation had explained a great deal about why she’d refused to wed him, though he wished she’d given him the truth long ago.

She hadn’t trusted him to take care of her then. But would she trust him now? Did he want her to stay? His thoughts stood upon shifting ground, for he didn’t have the answers. For now, he would keep her safe. Beyond that, he didn’t know.

“Eiloch is a long way from here,” Marguerite was saying. “Come and refresh yourselves. I’ll see to it that you have food and drink.” She smiled warmly and gave orders to a servant while Callum led them inside.

The fortress had changed a great deal, having been rebuilt from the ground up. Although Cairnross was not large, the stone walls were thick, lending a good deal of protection. The main house was made of wood, and the comforting smell of a peat fire lingered in the air.

A three-year-old girl ran over to Callum and grabbed his knees. “Hello, my lass,” he greeted her. He swung Nicole into the air, and the girl squealed with delight, chattering to her father and laughing. Then she nestled against him, staring at Dougal.

“She adores her father,” Marguerite said, bemused by the pair. “He gives her anything she wants.”

An unexpected vision ripped through Dougal, of a daughter with Celeste’s blue eyes. From the wistful look on her face, he could see that she did long to be a mother. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but he was glad that Edmon de Laurent had never given her a child.

“Have some wine, and we’ll talk,” Callum offered, leading them inside to sit down. But his brother’s expression held wariness. While Marguerite poured them cups of wine, he added, “My men saw a dozen soldiers approaching from the west. Searching for her, I suspect.”

“Aye.” Dougal noticed the way his brother held his daughter tighter, in a silent reminder that he would protect his children and his wife. “But you have archers. They won’t get close.”

“But more men will come,” his brother predicted. "Why do they want her?"

"They want my widow's portion," Celeste answered. "If I am dead, then they inherit everything."

“How long until they arrive?” Dougal asked.

“A few hours,” Callum answered. “Maybe less.” He took a sip from his own goblet, setting his daughter down and sending her off to play. “You should keep Lady Eiloch hidden when they arrive. We’ll let them search here, to avoid suspicion. When they are satisfied that she’s gone, they’ll leave and continue searching. We’ll take them along a different path.”

Celeste paled at his words. “I didn’t realize they had caught up to us.” She pushed her own goblet away, looking up at Dougal with fear. “I don’t want to bring enemies among you. That was never my intent.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Perhaps we should go now, before they arrive.”

“No, my brother is right. If we run, we’ll be seen.” Dougal took her hand, wanting to reassure her. Callum would not have suggested hiding her if he did not have a place where she could not be found. “We’ll leave in the middle of the night when they cannot track us.”

Celeste squeezed his fingers, but he didn’t miss the fear.

“There’s a hidden chamber belowground, for storage,” Marguerite said. “Lord Cairnross used to keep prisoners there years ago. No one will find you . . . but I fear it’s very cold.”

Celeste looked at him, and though she tried to put on a brave face, he saw her fear of being alone.

“It will be all right,” he reassured her. “I’ll stay with you.”

She took a deep breath and ventured, “What about our tracks? They won’t believe we’re gone if the tracks end here.”

He let out a slow breath, understanding what she wanted him to do.

“Take Ivory and lead them deeper into the hills,” she continued. “I’ll . . . stay belowground in hiding as long as I must.” She squared her shoulders, her face appearing calm.

But he saw the truth in her eyes. She had reason to fear, for they had already fired arrows at her. If a single soldier found her, she might die.

“She’s right,” Callum agreed. “They've already tracked you this far.”

Dougal stared at Celeste, wondering if he dared to leave her behind. Though she nodded, he didn’t miss the slight tremble at her lips. There was nothing he could do to ease her fear.

Callum reached for his bow, leaning down to kiss his wife. “We won’t be gone long. Hide her until our return.” Marguerite nodded and touched his face, her hands lingering upon his cheek.

Color rose in Celeste’s face. She was trying to remain calm, but when she met Dougal's gaze, he saw the worry lurking.

“I’ll return for you. I promise.” He rested his hand upon her spine in reassurance.

Marguerite led them toward the back of the Hall, where she lifted an iron ring, revealing a ladder that led belowground. “It’s down here,” she said, picking up a torch from an iron sconce on one wall.

“You can go with your brother,” Celeste told him. “I’ll be fine.” But even as she said the words, her eyes looked down into the darkness with undisguised fear.

“I won’t be gone long,” he promised. “We’ll lead them to a false trail.” But although she braved a smile, he saw through it. She took another breath to steady herself and then suddenly threw herself into his arms, gripping him hard.

He understood her need for comfort and security. The warmth of human touch soothed in a way words could not.

“Don’t be hurt on my behalf. No matter what happens,” she urged.

He kept his arms locked around her, breathing in the scent of her skin and marking a memory. The softness of her, the wordless gratitude, were so unexpected he couldn’t speak a word. Instead, he let his touch speak for him, resting his face against her hair while both arms held her tight.

“I feel safe with you,” she confessed. “And . . . I need you to return.”

Her blue eyes revealed the uncertainty, and she reached up to touch his roughened cheek. Aye, he fully intended to return to this woman. Especially with the way she was looking at him now.

“Remain in hiding until I come for you,” he commanded. Without knowing why, he leaned down and kissed her hard. She nodded, and when he left, he shielded the wayward thoughts and the empty ache that had begun inside him.

The chamber was so frigid, Celeste could see her breath against the lonely torch Marguerite had given her. The cold night was an enemy impossible to defeat, despite the fur she wrapped around herself. It was a fear that sank into her veins, reminding her of how alone she was.

She leaned against the wall, thinking of Dougal. He possessed a strength that made her want to lean upon him and take comfort. With each day she’d spent at his side, her feelings for him had only intensified.

She’d wed Edmon de Laurent to give Melisandre the life neither of them had before. Though it had broken her apart to leave Dougal, she’d believed it was wiser to follow the urging of her head rather than her heart. She’d sacrificed herself, leaving the man she loved...the man she had never stopped loving. She couldn’t say what had rekindled the feelings, but time had not diminished them. She’d only pressed them deep inside, believing they would go away.

Beneath the fur coverlet Marguerite had given her, Celeste was trembling, though no longer from the cold. Dougal’s kiss had twined around her fragile heart, tempting her to see the man he was and not the guardian he represented.

Was there anything left between them now? Or was he protecting her only for the gain it would bring him? He might not want her anymore . . . only a stallion for his beloved mare. Guarding her was a means to an end. Hadn’t he pushed her aside time and again?

Let him go , her head insisted. Find another way to protect Melisandre. A way that didn’t involve risking her feelings.

Celeste sensed that she was treading within shallow water that could drown her. It would take very little to push Dougal over the edge, to bring him into her bed. And after it was done, he might claim his own vengeance, leaving her behind.

Her earlier plan now seemed like the impulsive plan of a girl, not one that would offer any protection. Even if she did conceive a child, Rowena would never leave her in peace. The woman was ruthless and cared for nothing, save her own children. It was not safe to return. And it was not safe for Melisandre.

Dougal would keep his word to defend them both. But each moment she spent with him weakened the walls around her heart. He deserved better than a woman like her. She should let him go, ignoring the desire he’d conjured.

For if she did set aside her inhibitions, it would bare her heart in a way that would only break when they parted ways.

Dougal rode for an hour north while the soldiers searched Cairnross. Although Marguerite had promised that it was impossible for anyone to find Celeste, he couldn’t let go of the sense that he should be there with her. Both of them knew what would happen if they caught her.

He gritted his teeth against the thought, turning back and retracing his path back toward the fortress. When he reached the river, he drew the mare into the water, hiding her tracks there. Again, he changed direction, leading Ivory into the hills, obscuring any tracks he’d made. He waited on higher ground until it was late afternoon. Only then did he see Callum’s men leading Lord Eiloch’s forces upon the trail he’d made. He breathed easier when they took the bait, for it meant they had not found Celeste.

Impatience pulled at him to go to her, to bring her out from underground and ensure that she was safe. A vision pulled at his mind, of her arms around him, her body pressed close.

The past few days had worn both of them down, and in the face of the threats surrounding them, there was the need to reaffirm life. To hold her skin against his, daring to reach for a woman he was never supposed to have.

Was it worth it, to kneel before her body to worship, knowing that she might once again walk away? Or could he convince her to look past his poverty to see the man he was?

Celeste didn’t know how many hours passed or how long she was waiting in the dim light before the trapdoor swung open.

“Are you all right?” came the voice of Dougal. He climbed down the ladder and helped her back to her feet.

No, she wasn’t. But Celeste forced herself to answer yes, despite her chattering teeth. She’d remained beneath the fur coverlet, trying to stay warm. Her hands were numb, her cheeks icy from remaining belowground for so long.

“Come above, and I’ll see to it that you get warm.” His voice held worry, and he guided her hands to rest upon the ladder rungs.

Her hands stilled upon the wood, and she paused a moment. “What happened to the soldiers?”

His hands encircled her waist, and he gave her a slight nudge, silently encouraging her to climb. “Callum let them search here, while I went riding with Ivory, making a trail to the north. It should keep them occupied for a while.”

Though she climbed up a single rung, Celeste turned to face him while his hands remained at her waist. “Will they be back?”

“Not this night,” he said. “You can get warm and sleep without fear.”

She wasn’t certain that was true, but she managed a nod. “Thank you for your help.”

“I keep my promises, Celeste. I’ll let nothing happen to you.”

She stared into his eyes, unable to stop herself from reaching toward his face. Gently, she smoothed a hand over his hair, resting her palm against the back of his head. Standing atop the single rung, it brought her face even to his. He was so close, she could lean in and touch his mouth with hers.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned, his voice in a low growl. Though she was shivering, she saw the flare of desire in his eyes. It was like last night, when he’d warned her of what he would do if he spent the night beside her. Her body softened at the thought of him claiming her, moving with their bodies joined together.

Quickly, she turned away, climbing up the ladder. Her breathing was shallow, her heart quaking within her chest. When she reached the top, Lady Marguerite and Callum were waiting. The light was fading, and Celeste stumbled toward the fire burning in the hearth.

“She’s freezing,” Dougal told Marguerite. “We need to get her warm.”

“I’ll arrange for a hot bath,” the young woman agreed. To Celeste, she added, “There is a smaller chamber near to mine. I’ll have the children sleep down here tonight, and you may have the space to yourself.”

Celeste thanked the woman, still rubbing her hands above the fire. Dougal was speaking to his brother, and she watched him from the corner of her eye. They were discussing the men tracking her, and although he’d tried to explain that there was no longer any danger this night, she didn’t believe it. They would not abandon the search so easily.

Servants were busy heating water and bringing it above stairs for her bath. The idea of sinking into hot water was near to heaven, and she was eager to get warm. Marguerite offered her a fresh gown to borrow, and Celeste followed the woman up the winding wooden stairs, grateful for it.

“I’ll send a maid to tend you in your bath,” Marguerite continued. She opened the door to the chamber and welcomed her inside. The servants had already added steaming water to the tub, and another had laid out a linen drying cloth.

“Before I go, I . . . wanted to ask if you and Dougal—” Her words broke away, as if she didn’t know how to phrase the question. Embarrassment flushed over the woman’s face, and she added, “I don’t mean to pry.”

Her words voiced a question Celeste didn’t know how to answer. In essence, Lady Marguerite was wanting to know if she and Dougal were lovers.

This night, Celeste craved his presence, even if it meant nothing more than sleeping with his arms around her. The comfort and safety Dougal represented were everything.

Keeping her voice in a low whisper, she admitted, “He means a great deal to me.”

There. Let her make of that what she wanted. Even if it meant Dougal slept outside her door, it would make her feel better.

Marguerite’s expression remained serious. “Dougal has never shown interest in a woman before you.” Her gaze fixated upon Celeste. “He is like a brother to me, even if we do not share the same blood.”

She did not have to say anything else. There was no doubting the warning in her words. Celeste nodded but met the woman’s gaze squarely. “I understand. But I would want him near to me this night.”

The servants continued to come and go, filling up the small wooden tub. Steam billowed up into the cool air, and the light was dim, despite the flare of several beeswax candles.

Marguerite helped her to unlace her gown, and within moments Celeste was in the water, up to her chin. She closed her eyes, so grateful for the healing warmth. “I will send someone to you shortly,” the lady said before she closed the door behind her.

Dougal held the cake of soap Marguerite had given him. “Knock on the chamber door and give this to the maidservant, if you would.” His brother’s wife did not wait for him to argue but fled as soon as his hand closed over the soap.

It was a strange bidding, but he supposed she’d forgotten to give it to the maid.

He went up the winding stairs and paused before the doorway. Though he supposed Marguerite would want him to sleep in the Hall with the other men, he fully intended to sleep outside Celeste’s door.

If Lord Eiloch’s soldiers somehow returned in the night, he wanted to be there to defend her. He and Callum had posted extra guards, with the reminder to the men to alert them at the sign of anyone suspicious.

Dougal knocked upon the door, waiting for the maid to open it. A voice called out for him to enter and his hand stilled upon the latch.

Enter? When they did not know who stood beyond the door? Were they expecting another maid?

Slowly, he lifted the latch, averting his gaze as he waited for the maid to approach. Instead, there was only silence.

He closed the door behind him and when he dared to look, every thought left his brain. Celeste was resting in a tub of water, her hair pinned up, while her bare breasts bobbed atop the water.

“Forgive me,” he muttered, turning to go. “I thought a maid was with you to—”

“Wait.” Her voice was calm, not at all afraid of him. Dougal froze with his back to her, and in that single word, his imagination filled in the spaces, reminding him of the bare skin he’d glimpsed. She wanted him to wait?

“I wasn’t trying to intrude,” he said. The steam from her bath made the air heavy, and the aroma of dried herbs filled up the tiny space.

“You weren’t intruding.” He heard the faint splash of water and though there was hesitation in her voice, she said, “Will you bring me the soap?”

His feet wouldn’t move. A rigid desire swelled through him, and he gripped the bar of soap as if it would somehow dispel the dark needs.

“No,” he answered after a time. “I’ll send someone else.”

“And what if I want you?”

The words severed any remaining denial within him, and he dared to turn back. Though her arms now covered her bare breasts, he could see the blush on her cheeks. She was no maiden, for she had known a husband’s touch. She knew exactly what she was offering, and God help him, he lacked the willpower to say no. But he would try once more.

“This wasn’t part of our arrangement.”

She regarded him, her blue eyes capturing his. “Do you want to leave me?”

He’d dreamed of touching that sweet skin, of tasting every inch of her. Of joining their bodies together, sheathing himself inside until she arched with trembling pleasure.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” He drew nearer, setting the soap down upon the wooden floor. There was a stool beside the tub and he went to sit upon it. From this vantage point, he could see her wet skin glistening against the candlelight.

“Yes, I do. And I don’t want to be alone this night. Not when I might die on the morrow.”

He understood, then. She wanted a few hours to forget the men pursuing them, to seize a moment of pleasure when it could be her last. He could no more refuse her than he could sever his right arm.

Slowly, Celeste lowered her arms back into the water, revealing her breasts again. Pink-tipped and wet, they were large and tempting. Her nipples were erect, and his body responded with a desire so strong, his groin ached.

He dipped his hands into the hot water and then lathered up his hands. “Sit up,” he commanded. She obeyed, and he began by washing her back, sliding his hands over skin so soft, his hands grew slick. Scooping handfuls of water over her back, he rinsed her, and then soaped his hands once more. He caressed her shoulders with the soap, moving his palms down to touch her breasts.

They were a gentle weight, and he drew his thumbs over the pointed nipples, tormenting her as he washed them with the soap. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub, her eyes closed as she allowed him to touch her.

“Please—” she managed to say, gasping as he rinsed away the soap, easing her to sit up. Her nipples had darkened in color, and he gave in to temptation, kissing her deeply as he explored her breasts with both hands. He didn’t want her remembering her first husband or anyone else at this moment. Only him.

Though he didn’t know what had made her decide to invite him in, his honor had crumbled into dust. There was only Celeste kissing him hard, her tongue touching his while he gripped her above the water. Her hands were pulling at his tunic and he broke free long enough to remove it.

Celeste rose up to her knees in the tub, embracing him skin to skin. He didn’t care at all that her body was wet against his own. The sensation of her breasts pressed to him was more arousing than anything he’d ever felt before.

“Slow down,” he commanded, pressing her back. “I haven’t finished tending you in the bath yet.”

She stilled, but her eyes held a passion that mirrored his. “Then do what you will.”

She was dying against his touch. Dougal had washed every part of her, paying particular attention to her sensitive breasts. “Before the night is over, I’m going to taste you,” he warned.

Heaven help her, she prayed he would. Her body felt alive, as if he was possessing it with every touch, every kiss. Now that his tunic was off, she could see the firm muscles and his hard chest that tapered down to a ridged abdomen.

He used the soap again to wash her feet, his hands moving up one calf. He massaged her skin as he explored her, his hand drifting to her inner thigh. Her breathing was shaky, and the water lapped against her in another caress. Dougal repeated the motions with the other foot, washing her gently until his hand moved between her legs. His fingers rested against her intimate opening, and he palmed her there, his dark eyes locked with hers.

She gasped as his thumb edged her mons, his hand cupping her curls.

“Shall I wash you there?” he demanded.

She couldn’t speak, her body was rising so hard. She was utterly pliant against his hand, her breathing hitched as he stroked her. His thumb grazed the hard nodule above her opening, before he slid a finger inside her.

“Is this what you were wanting?” he asked, bending to kiss her mouth. His lips captured her, while below the water he penetrated her with his finger.

Slowly, he added another when she managed to answer a breathless, “Yes.”

The steady rhythm was starting to pull at her, and she was afraid of surrendering, unsure of what he was doing. But the more he touched her, the more she leaned in to him, feeling the ache between her legs. His warm mouth enclosed one nipple, and she gripped his head, shaking hard as the sensations intensified.

“Let go,” he ordered against her skin, taking the other nipple. “Celeste, stop fighting me.”

She didn’t know what he wanted, but when he began to suck hard, her fingers dug into his hair. He rubbed against her, his hands demanding a response she couldn’t bear.

Then he added another finger, and his thumb pressed her hard. A scorching release soared through her and she cried out, bucking against him as he filled her with his fingers. Her body was like melted tallow, pliant to him.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself,” she murmured, feeling embarrassed at what had happened.

A dark laugh broke through him, and Dougal helped her to stand, wrapping her in the linen drying cloth. “I wanted to pleasure you, Celeste. And we’re not finished yet.”

She stepped out of the tub, her skin freezing at the cool air. Dougal kept her covered in the linen cloth while he led her toward a small pallet in the corner. It was covered with fur, and he took a moment to dry her off before laying her back against the soft coverlet. He stood before her, his eyes searing as he unfastened his trews and finished undressing.

His body was lean and powerful, his legs muscled from riding. And his manhood was heavy and erect when he knelt down beside her.

“I’m cold,” she whispered, beckoning for him to lie atop her. His skin was warmer than she’d expected, and Dougal pulled another coverlet atop both of them. He rested his body weight on his forearms as he stared down at her.

“I don’t think this was what you intended when you asked for my protection.”

Celeste shook her head but moved her legs apart, bringing his aroused manhood directly in contact with her slick heat. Although it had never been painful with Edmon, never had she craved his body inside hers.

She wanted to feel Dougal moving within her, and she pressed her hips against his. Yes, this was exactly what she’d hoped for several days ago. But she’d never dreamed it would feel like this. “I trust you,” she whispered.

Lifting her knees, she guided him inside her, her body stretching against his fullness. “Yes,” she breathed, marveling that it could be this good.

Dougal’s face was strained taut, but his mouth trailed down the column of her throat in a wet path to her breasts. As he suckled one, he plunged in deep, intensifying her arousal. She felt the answering pull, her body needing his.

Slowly, he moved within her, a fluid rhythm that felt so good, she pushed back, welcoming the thrust. He raised one of her legs over one hip, and in his eyes, she saw the man she’d loved for so long.

She’d been wrong to leave him. Dougal never would have let anything happen to her, nor would he have let her starve. The two years she’d spent with Edmon paled in comparison to one night with this man.

“More,” she urged, holding his hips. He guided her legs around his waist, elevating her hips until he penetrated harder. Over and over he plunged, forcing her to meet each thrust.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see your eyes when I’m inside you.”

She did, and the feral look pulled her apart. He was marking her, forcing her to see the man who was pleasuring her. And God above, the intensity was mind-stealing. He was raw and untamed, quickening the pace until she could do nothing but hold fast and surrender.

Liquid heat pulsed inside, and she shuddered, climaxing around him as he continued to drive inside her.

“Let go,” she pleaded, grasping his face with her hands. She couldn’t bear much more of this. But he only kissed her hard, continuing the relentless rhythm. As if he was trying to drive out the memories of any man but him.

She couldn’t catch her breath, for it was coming in swift gasps, until at last he came in a fierce thrust. His breath shuddered as he pumped inside her, his arms gripping her hard.

Their bodies were joined in a way that made a mockery of what her marriage had been. This was what it meant to share a man’s bed. She’d never known, and though Dougal was still buried deep within her, there was a joy that he’d awakened.

“I liked that,” she murmured with a lazy smile, pulling him into a kiss. But neither of them spoke of what the morrow would bring. And she could not say what would happen anymore.

There could be a child, a memory of this night. A child who would save both her and her sister. A wild hope filled her, that perhaps she could have everything. She could reclaim Eiloch and later bring Dougal back to stay with her.

But when he rolled over, curling his body around hers, a sense of darkness surrounded her. No. He would never give his child another man’s name. If he knew that she had wanted him in her bed for that purpose, he would never forgive her.

Once again, she would have to choose, for she could not have both.

Dougal awoke in the middle of the night to find Celeste naked in his arms. Her body was warm, her hair tangled down her back. He stroked the length of it, and her mouth pressed a sleepy kiss against his chest.

Though he’d grown hard and his shaft was demanding more, he held back. She was not a virgin, and he could claim her again if she would have him. And yet . . . even though he’d sated his lust, he’d sensed that there was more at play here. She’d had a reason for inviting him into her bed, and he could not guess what it was.

He moved her atop him, enjoying the sensation of her naked body against his. He caressed her skin, down her spine to her round bottom. Almost immediately, his shaft surged against her.

“Is it morning?” she murmured, raising her head.

“Not yet.” He reached up to explore her skin, and she startled him when she raised up, easing his erection against her. She wasn’t entirely ready for him, but he stroked her, kindling the response he wanted. She was tentative, almost hesitant in the way she held herself. But as her body relaxed, he felt the wetness between her legs. This time, when she pressed herself upon him, she welcomed him inside.

“We can’t stay here,” she whispered. “Your brother said we have to leave before dawn.”

“Soon.” He lifted her up, reveling when she sank down against him. As she moved in rhythm, he was torn between wanting to hear her cry out in release . . . and questioning why she had chosen to lie with him.

Aye, it was an intense pleasure, one he welcomed. But he suspected that this time together would come to an end.

Dougal disengaged from her, never minding that he was brutally aroused, his body slick with her wetness. She misunderstood what he wanted and instead rolled to her side, her hand curling around his shaft. Carefully, she guided him back inside her, but the new position didn’t bring him deep enough. He guided her onto her hands and knees, reaching to cup her breasts while he entered her from behind.

For a moment he teased the hard nipples, feeling the way she clenched at him within her depths. But when she backed against him, he forgot what he was doing and lost himself as he grasped her hips firmly and claimed her.

Mine , he thought savagely as he invaded and withdrew. He wanted to brand himself within her, to shatter apart her senses until she remembered no man except him. She was meeting him with every thrust, until he grew so hard, he was afraid of harming her.

She lowered her torso to the ground, raising her backside in a way that increased the sweet friction and took him deeper.

Did she think he was simply going to let her go after this?

No. He wanted more than that. He didn’t want her to leave him again. Though he would keep his promise to help rescue her sister, the girl’s freedom would come at another price.

He wanted Celeste.

He wanted to spend his nights in gloried lovemaking and his days making her happy. He wanted her to admit her mistake, agreeing to come back to Glen Arrin with him. She’d been the woman he’d loved for so long, the woman who knew how to get beneath his skin.

And when she was crying out in wicked release, begging him to end the torment, he filled her with his seed, collapsing atop her.

Nothing would force him to let her go. Not after this.