Page 78 of The Chief's Wild Promise

Bran tried out a few more moves with his new sword, and she noted how well-matched they were. Her instinct for what weapon he needed had been on the mark. Satisfied, he sheathed the blade and buckled the scabbard around his narrow hips.

He then focused his attention wholly on Makenna. “No one has ever given me something so special,” he murmured.

“Ye like it then?” she asked, warmth flowing through her.

“Aye.” He moved close and caught her around the waist, drawing her in for a hot, passionate kiss.

Reaching out, Makenna grabbed his gambeson, fisting the quilted material as the kiss deepened. They were in full view of everyone here, up on the walls, but neither of them cared. Once, Makenna had been embarrassed about displaying affection in public, although those days were now far behind her. She loved Bran and didn’t care who witnessed it.

And over the past two months, the people of Dùn Ara had gotten used to seeing their laird and lady show each other affection.

When they finally drew apart, breathless now, heat pooled in the cradle of Makenna’s hips. Suddenly, she wished to forget about the looming noon meal and instead drag her husband up to their bedchamber.

The look that burned in his grey eyes told her he was thinking along the same lines.

“The sword is fine indeed,” he said roughly, reaching out and cupping her cheek, “but it is the love and thoughtfulness that prompted ye to commission the blade that touches me more.”

Her throat tightened. “Ye deserve it,” she whispered. “I wanted ye to finally have a weapon worthy of ye.”

He swallowed, his eyes glistening now. “My fierce, bonnie wife,” he whispered. “Have I told ye how much I love ye?”

Her lips tugged into a smile as she raised her hand to cover his upon her cheek. “Many times, dear husband … but go on … tell me again.”