Page 28 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)
"We shouldnae," Morag whispered against his lips, even as her body betrayed her words by arching toward him.
"Nay," Colin agreed roughly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his mouth moved to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the sensitive skin there. "Nae while ye are still recoverin'."
"Aye," she gasped breathlessly, her fingers tangling in his hair as he found that spot just below her ear that made her gasp.
Colin lifted his head to look at her, his eyes dark in the candlelight. "Tell me tae stop, Morag."
But she couldn't. Instead, she pulled him back down to her, losing herself in the taste of him, in the feel of his hands in her hair, in the way he whispered her name like a prayer against her skin.
They kissed until they were both breathless, until the need between them was almost unbearable. When Colin finally pulled back, they were both trembling.
As fervent as the kiss was, Morag needed more.
He dragged his lips down her throat, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from her.
His teeth grazed gently against her skin, his tongue tracing a heated trail down her neck and across her collarbone.
Colin's mouth found the softness of her breasts, his lips pressing reverent kisses against her creamy skin, tasting and teasing her sensitive flesh.
“God above, Morag,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “Ye drive me tae madness.” His hands moved slowly, deliberately, exploring the curves and softness beneath her night gown, his fingers finding every hidden contour and eliciting quiet gasps of delight.
Morag’s breathing quickened, her hands tightening in his hair, urging him closer. She whimpered softly, trembling as Colin's warm breath fanned over her skin, igniting sparks of sensation everywhere he touched.
His hands gently lifted her gown. Her eyes widened, reflecting the candlelight, as he leaned over her, dark eyes burning with need.
“Lie back, me love,” he whispered roughly.
Morag complied, heart pounding fiercely, her gaze locked on his every move. Colin’s fingertips trailed slowly from her ankles upward, exploring the silken smoothness of her thighs. He parted her legs gently, eyes darkening further as he took in her delicate beauty, flushed and waiting for him.
“I must taste ye,” he growled softly, settling between her thighs, his lips pressing tender kisses along her sensitive skin.
Morag gasped sharply as his tongue found her most sensitive spot, teasing gently, slowly, igniting a fire deep within her core. Her hands gripped the bedcovers, her hips instinctively rising to meet him, desperate for more.
“Oh, Colin,” she whimpered, lost in sensation as he expertly caressed her, his fingers joining his mouth in an exquisite rhythm that had her gasping, her body trembling beneath him.
He moved slowly at first, savoring her sweetness, his pace gradually quickening as her breathy cries filled the air. Morag’s back arched sharply, tension coiling tighter and tighter within her, driven closer to that precipice of pleasure by every skilled touch of Colin’s tongue and fingers.
“Please,” she begged breathlessly, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes squeezed shut in bliss.
“Let go, Morag,” Colin murmured against her skin, his deep voice vibrating through her, sending her spiraling.
She shattered beautifully, a wave of overwhelming pleasure washing over her as she cried out, her body trembling uncontrollably. Colin held her gently, guiding her through her climax with tender, lingering caresses.
When her breathing finally steadied, Colin moved up to capture her lips again, kissing her softly, deeply, allowing her to taste herself on him. He gathered her into his arms, holding her close, their bodies fitting perfectly together as they lay tangled in each other's warmth.
Morag looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushed from passion, a soft, contented smile spreading across her lips. Colin brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead, whispering tenderly, “I will savor every moment I have with ye.”
The next morning, Colin was roused from the deepest sleep he'd had in years by urgent knocking at the chamber door. Morag stirred in his arms, and for a moment he allowed himself to savor the warmth of her body pressed against his before duty called him back to reality.
Colin gently disentangled himself from Morag, and reached for his shirt, before padding to the door.
"What?" he pulled the door open, careful to keep his voice low so as not to wake her.
Niven stood at the other side, his expression grim. "Me laird, urgent word from the messengers."
"What news?"
Niven glanced toward the chamber where Morag slept and lowered his voice. "The carriage carrying the rest of Lady Morag's dowry is waiting at the rendezvous point."
"Keep yer voice down," Colin said sharply, glancing over his shoulder at Morag’s sleeping form before stepping further into the corridor and pulling the door closed behind him.
The last thing he needed was for Morag to overhear talk of Fraser's threats or, worse, the details about the dowry delivery.
"They're ready tae deliver once they receive our signal that all has gone according tae plan. " Niven hesitated. "The only thing is that Fraser's men have been spotted in the forest. They've caused skirmishes closer tae the castle walls. It's only a matter of time before they make a full assault."
Colin's jaw tightened as he absorbed this information. The castle, normally a fortress, had become a liability with all the displaced villagers sheltering within its walls. Too many innocents, too many people who couldn't fight.
"How many villagers are still here?" Colin asked in a low whisper, already calculating the logistics of evacuation while remaining acutely aware that Morag was just beyond the door.
"Near forty, me laird. Mostly women, children, and the elderly. The younger men have been helping with defenses, but..."
"But they're nae soldiers," Colin finished grimly. "We need tae get everyone back tae their lands today. The castle willnae be safe much longer."
"And the dowry?" Niven asked.
Colin's mind was already working through the logistics.
"We'll need tae coordinate both. Send word tae the messenger that we need the carriage tae approach from the north road - it's the furthest from where Fraser's men have been spotted.
We'll escort the villagers out in groups, using the dowry delivery as cover. "
Colin frowned, considering whether the strategy would be successful. "How many men can we spare fer escort duty without leaving the castle defenseless?"
"Maybe twenty, if we choose carefully."
"Make it fifteen," Colin corrected grimly. "We need enough men here tae defend the castle if Fraser strikes while we're evacuatin’. Half of our best fighters will escort the villagers, while the other half will remain at the castle."
He paused, his mind working through the dangerous mathematics of protection. "If we dae this right, we can keep the villagers and the castle safe without losin’ too many people."
Colin was already opening the door to the chamber, his mind racing with logistics. "And Niven? Send word tae our allies. If Fraser wants a fight, we'll give him one - but nae with civilians in the crossfire."
Colin slipped back into the chamber and moved quietly to pull on his shirt and trews with practiced efficiency, before reaching for his sword belt, buckling it with hands that moved automatically through the familiar routine.
It was only as he was reaching for his boots that he found himself pausing, his gaze drawn to the bed where Morag still slept, her face peaceful in the candlelight. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the sight before him.
She lay on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, her golden hair spilled across the pillow like silk catching firelight.
Her lips were slightly parted, soft and inviting, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin linen of her nightgown made his pulse quicken despite the urgency of the situation.
Even in sleep, there was something captivating about her—the delicate curve of her jaw, the long sweep of her lashes against her cheeks, the way the candlelight played across her skin and made her look almost ethereal.
How did I become so lucky? How did this beautiful, fierce woman become mine?
His chest tightened with an emotion he was only beginning to recognize.
For a very brief moment, time seemed suspended. The weight of Fraser's threats, the logistics of evacuation, the complex web of politics surrounding their marriage—all of it faded away as he simply watched his wife sleep. She looked so young, so peaceful, and he was reluctant to wake her.
He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb the mattress too much, and reached out to gently brush a silky strand of hair from her face.
It slipped through his fingers like water, and he found himself tracing the line of her cheek with his thumb, marveling at the softness of her skin.
"Morag," he murmured softly, continuing to stroke her hair back from her face. "Wake up, me love."
Her eyes fluttered open, immediately focusing on his face with the clarity of someone accustomed to being alert quickly. Even freshly awakened, with her hair tousled and her eyes still soft with sleep, she was breathtaking.
"Colin?" She took in his fully dressed state, the weapons at his side, the tension in his shoulders. "What's wrong? Why are ye dressed so early?"
"Fraser's men have been spotted closer tae the castle," he said, his hand stroking her hair as she sat up. "We need tae evacuate the remainin’ villagers before they're caught in whatever he's planning."
Morag immediately sat up, her face turning pale. But her voice remained steady when she spoke. "What can I dae tae help?"