Page 17 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

The thought came unbidden, catching Colin off guard with its intensity. Where had that come from? He barely knew this woman, yet watching her move through the water with such natural grace, seeing her face relaxed and genuinely happy for perhaps the first time since he'd met her...

Colin watched her, mesmerized by the graceful way she glided through the water. When she laughed and splashed him playfully, he found himself grinning and retaliating, their earlier tension giving way to something lighter and more intimate.

The game escalated until Morag tried to duck away from one of his splashes and lost her footing on the smooth stones beneath. Colin caught her instinctively, his arms coming around her waist to steady her, and suddenly she was pressed against his chest.

"I've got ye," Colin murmured, his voice rougher than usual.

"I can see that," Morag whispered back, but she made no move to pull away.

Time seemed to stop. Morag's hands had come up to rest against his shoulders, and her lips were parted in surprise, so close he could feel her breath against his skin. All Colin could focus on was the way her pupils had dilated, the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat.

Christ, she's bonny.

"Ye have very... steady hands."

"Years of sword training," Colin said, though his grip on her waist was anything but steady now. "Though this is considerably more pleasant than combat practice."

"Is it?" Morag asked, tilting her head slightly. "I thought maybe this was just another form of strategy fer ye. The Highland laird conquerin’ new territory."

His hands tightened on her waist as she melted against him.

Through the crystal-clear water, he could see the way her wet chemise clung to every curve, outlining the swell of her full breasts and the gentle flare of her hips.

The thin fabric had become nearly transparent, revealing far more than propriety would allow, and the sight made his mouth go dry with want.

What are ye daein’ lad? Where are these emotions comin’ from? Ye are completely losing a grip of yerself.

"If it is," Colin said quietly, "then I'm afraid I'm losin’ badly."

"How so?"

"Maybe this time I'm the one being conquered," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Morag's eyes widened slightly. Her fingers curled against his shoulders, her nails pressing lightly into his skin as if she was anchoring herself to him.

Colin could see the conflict in her green eyes, the way she wanted this as much as he did but was fighting against it.

Her breathing had quickened, matching his own, and when her tongue darted out to wet her lips, he nearly lost what remained of his control.

"That daesnae sound very Iron Laird-like of ye."

"Nay, it daesnae," Colin agreed, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. "But ye are beginnin’ tae have that effect on me. Makin’ me forget who I'm supposed tae be."

"And who are ye supposed tae be?" Morag asked softly.

"Focused on duty above all else," Colin said, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Nae someone who brings his wife tae secret waterfalls and forgets everything else exists."

"Maybe," Morag said, her fingers tracing small patterns on his shoulders, "the person ye're supposed tae be isnae the same as the person ye actually are."

"And what person am I, lass?" Colin asked, genuinely curious about her answer.

"I'm still figuring that out," Morag admitted. "But I like what I seen here… now. When ye're nae trying so hard tae be made of iron."

He was acutely aware of every place their bodies touched beneath the water—her soft thighs brushing against his, the press of her curves against his chest. The innocent garment she'd kept on for modesty's sake had become anything but innocent, and Colin found himself fighting the urge to trace the lines it revealed with his hands.

Colin lowered his head slightly, bringing them even closer. "What if I told ye that around ye, I dinnae feel like iron at all?"

"What dae ye feel like?" Morag whispered.

"Like a man who's been holding his breath fer years and is finally rememberin’ how tae breathe," Colin said honestly.

The confession hung between them in the warm air, more intimate than their physical closeness. Morag's fingers stilled on his shoulders.

"Colin," she breathed, and something in the way she said his name made his heart race.

"Aye?"

"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "Of wanting this. Of wanting ye. Of forgetting that this marriage was supposed tae be just an arrangement."

"It terrifies me too," Colin confessed. "But maybe being terrified together is better than being safe and alone."

"Maybe," Morag agreed, tilting her face up toward his. "Maybe we could try being terrified together."

He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to, but instead she tilted her face up toward his.

Their lips were barely a breath apart now, and Colin could taste the sweetness of her exhale, could feel the tremor that ran through her body as anticipation coiled between them like a living thing

"Morag," he whispered roughly, her name a prayer and a plea all at once.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into him, her body pressing more fully against his as his mouth hovered just above hers, close enough that the slightest movement would close the distance?—

A sharp crack echoed through the glen as a branch snapped somewhere in the forest beyond.

Both of them froze, the spell shattered as completely as if someone had doused them with ice water. Colin's warrior instincts kicked in immediately, and he moved to shield Morag with his body while scanning the treeline for signs of movement.

"Get dressed," he said quietly, his voice once again taking on the hard edge of command. "Quickly."

His eyes scanned the treeline as he pulled on his shirt. "Wait here," he barked tersely, "I want tae make sure we're alone."

Morag nodded, "Aye," she whispered, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll stay right here." Her hands shook slightly as she reached for her discarded clothes. The magic of their moment had been thoroughly shattered.

Colin grabbed his sword, moving silently through the trees surrounding the glen, his hand resting on his sword hilt as he checked for any signs of intruders. After several tense minutes, he returned to find Morag fully dressed and waiting beside the horses, her face pale but composed.

"Naething," he said briefly, dressing as well. "But we should go. Now."

Morag nodded, unable to meet his gaze after their encounter.

"What dae ye think it was?" She asked as she moved toward her horse. "The sound, I mean. Animal? Fraser scout? Or just the wind playing tricks on us?"

"I’m nae sure. I didnae see anythin’. But I dinnae want tae put ye in any danger."

They mounted quickly, the earlier intimacy replaced by tense awareness of potential danger. Colin helped Morag settle in her saddle, his touch brief and impersonal despite the heat that still simmering between them.

They'd ridden for several minutes in charged silence when Morag finally spoke, her voice cutting through the tension.

"Daes this happen often?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Colin glanced at her sharply. "What?"

"Being interrupted. Havin’ tae worry about enemies lurkin’ behind every tree." She adjusted her grip on the reins, her knuckles white. "Nae havin’ a moment of peace together. Is this what marriage tae ye will always be like?"

"I dinnae ken," Colin admitted honestly. "Fraser's made things... complicated."

"Complicated," Morag repeated, a bitter laugh escaping her. "That's one way tae put it. I suppose romantic waterfalls lose their appeal when ye're constantly lookin’ over yer shoulder."

"It wasnae always like this," Colin said quietly. "This glen... it used tae be a place of peace."

"And now?"

"Now nowhere is safe." His jaw tightened. "Not while Fraser still breathes."

Morag was quiet for a moment, processing this. "Is that why ye dinnae let yerself... why ye keep everyone at arm's length? Because of the danger?"

Colin's hands tightened on his reins. "It's easier that way."

"Easier fer who?"

"Fer everyone." Colin's voice carried the weight of years of lonely responsibility. "When ye care about people, when ye let them get close... it gives yer enemies something tae use against ye."

"So ye choose tae be alone instead," Morag said, understanding dawning in her voice. "Better tae be the Iron Laird than risk having someone ye love threatened."

"Something like that," Colin muttered.

"That's a terrible way tae live," Morag said softly.

"It's kept me people alive," Colin replied defensively.

"Has it? Or has it just made ye miserable?" Morag challenged. "Because from where I sit, it looks like Fraser's threatenin’ yer people anyway, and ye're facing it without anyone truly by yer side."

Colin was quiet for a long moment. "Are ye offering tae stand by me side?"

"I'm trying tae understand what that would mean," Morag said carefully. "Whether there's room fer a real wife in yer life, or just a political convenience ye occasionally show tenderness tae at waterfalls."

"What happened back there..." Colin started, then stopped, struggling with the words.

"Aye?"

"It wasn't about politics," he said finally. "Or convenience."

"Then what was it about?" Morag asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Colin looked at her then, and she saw something vulnerable flicker in his dark eyes before he looked away again.

"I'm still figurin’ that out," he admitted. "But whatever it was... Fraser can never ken about it or he’ll use it against us."

"So we pretend it didn't happen?" Morag asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

"We protect it," Colin corrected firmly. "There's a difference."

"Is there?" Morag challenged. "Because it feels an awful lot like ye're already retreatin’ behind yer walls again."