Page 32 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
C olin woke to the soft patter of rain still falling against the tent canvas, though much gentler now than the storm of the night before. Morag was curled against his side, her hair spilled across his chest, her breathing deep and even.
The sight of her filled him with a complex tangle of emotions—fierce protectiveness, genuine affection, and a guilt that gnawed at him like a physical ache.
Last night had been everything he'd dreamed of and more.
The way she'd responded to his touch, the trust she'd shown him, the passion that had ignited between them as the rain pitter-pattered around them—it had been perfect. Beautiful. Real.
And now the dowry would come, and his clan's survival would be secured.
The thought made his stomach clench with shame.
Had he made love to his wife because he desired her, or because he needed the gold that would follow?
The truth was messier than he wanted to admit—he wanted her desperately, had from almost the first moment he'd seen her.
But he also couldn't ignore that their consummation would trigger the delivery of resources his people desperately needed.
She can never ken. She can never think that what happened between us was about anything other than... this. Us.
His arms tightened protectively around her sleeping form.
He allowed himself the luxury of simply watching her sleep for a few moments, memorizing every detail of her.
The way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, the soft curve of her lips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. His fingers moved almost of their own accord to thread through her hair, and he marveled at how beautiful she was.
I care about her, Heavens almighty, and I care very much about what she thinks about me and the clan.
The revelation should have terrified him—falling in love had never been in his plans. It made a man vulnerable, and gave his enemies weapons to use against him. But looking down at Morag's peaceful face, Colin found he didn't care. Let the world see his weakness. Some things were worth the risk.
Morag stirred at his touch, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face as memory returned, and Colin felt his heart skip at the sight.
"Good morning, husband," she said softly, the word carrying new weight between them.
"Good morning, wife," Colin replied, his voice rough. Unable to resist, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips, savoring the soft warmth of her mouth against his.
"Sleep well?" he asked when they parted, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone.
"Better than I have in weeks," Morag admitted, stretching slightly against him in a way that made his pulse quicken. "Though I suspect the village might have heard the storm quite clearly last night."
Colin chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Let them talk. We're properly married, after all." The words came out colder than he'd intended, weighted with the knowledge of what their union now meant for his clan's future.
"Aye, we are," Morag said, lifting her head to look at him directly. Her eyes were bright with contentment and something that might have been love, and the sight made guilt twist in his chest like a blade. "Nay more arrangements or agreements. Just... us. And the life we want tae build together."
If only it were that simple, if only I could forget about dowries and politics and just be a man in love with his wife.
"Just us," he agreed, leaning down to press another kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips again. He couldn't seem to be able to stop touching her, as if each caress might somehow absolve him of his mixed motives.
"Ye'll be stuck with me fer the rest of yer life,"
"Oh, the horror," Morag said with mock drama when he mentioned her being stuck with him, then dissolved into laughter when Colin tickled her side in retaliation.
Her laughter was like music, bright and joyful and completely free. Colin found himself kissing her again, deeper this time, pouring all his conflicted emotions into the connection between them. When she responded with equal fervor, her arms winding around his neck, he felt some of the guilt ease.
This is real . However else this marriage might have started, what's between us now is real.
They lay there for a while longer, talking quietly and sharing gentle touches.
Colin found himself being more affectionate than usual, his hands constantly stroking her hair, his lips pressing soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, anywhere he could reach.
Part of it was genuine desire—he couldn't get enough of touching her now that the barriers between them had fallen.
But part of it was guilt-driven tenderness, as if he could somehow make up for his divided loyalties through sheer devotion.
"Ye're being very... attentive this morning," Morag observed with a pleased smile, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest.
"Can't help meself," Colin replied honestly, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to her palm. "Last night changed everything fer me, Morag. I want tae touch ye, hold ye, make sure ye ken how much ye mean tae me."
More than gold . More than clan politics or dowries or anything else. When ye find out what I did tae get ye tae be me wife, please believe that.
"I ken," she said softly, her eyes warm with affection. "I can see it in yer face, feel it in the way ye touch me. Last night was... perfect."
The simple trust in her voice made Colin's chest tighten with emotion. Eventually, the sounds of the camp stirring outside reminded them of their responsibilities, though Colin was reluctant to let the moment end.
"We should head back tae the castle," he said reluctantly, brushing another strand of hair from her face and following the gesture with a tender kiss to her forehead.
"Thankfully, there was no news of Fraser invaders during the night, but I wouldnae want tae nae be at the castle if anything happens.
Besides, there's still much tae coordinate, and I'll feel better once everyone's safely settled. "
"Aye," Morag agreed, though she made no immediate move to rise. Instead, she stretched up to kiss him again, slow and sweet.
What began as a gentle morning kiss quickly deepened into something more urgent.
Colin's hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer.
The taste of her, the soft warmth of her mouth against his, made everything else fade away—the responsibilities waiting, the men stirring outside, the complex web of politics that surrounded their marriage.
Morag's arms wound around his neck, her body pressing against his as she responded with equal fervor. She made a soft sound of pleasure against his lips, and Colin felt his control begin to slip. His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew heated and desperate.
The canvas walls of the tent seemed to disappear around them. There was nothing but the taste of her, the feel of her curves beneath his hands, the way she melted against him as if she belonged there.
"Colin," she breathed, his name barely audible but filled with want.
The sound of voices outside—his men calling to each other as they broke camp—finally penetrated the haze of desire. Colin forced himself to pull back, though every instinct screamed at him to stay, to lose himself in her warmth and forget the world waiting beyond the tent.
His breathing was ragged, and he could see the same desire burning in Morag's eyes. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her hair mussed from his hands, and she looked so beautiful it physically hurt to step away from her.
"We have tae stop," he said roughly, his voice thick with want and regret. "Or I'll never be able tae let ye go, and the men are waiting."
Morag's cheeks were flushed, her breathing as uneven as his. "I ken," she whispered, but her hands lingered on his chest. "Let them wait a bit longer," Morag whispered against his lips, her hands sliding down his chest in a way that made his pulse race. "They're not going anywhere without us."
That was all the encouragement Colin needed.
With a low growl, he claimed her mouth again, his hands already working to run over her nipple.
The practical world outside the tent could wait—right now, there was nothing but his wife's eager response and the overwhelming need to lose himself in her once more.
Colin manhood filled her wetness, their lovemaking quick but intense, born of newfound intimacy and the knowledge that they were finally truly husband and wife in every sense.
They both came at the same time, the vibrations in her inner wall massaging his hardness until it gave way to the pure pleasure begging for release.
When they collapsed on the makeshift beddings, Colin pressed one last, gentle kiss to her forehead, trying to calm the fire still racing through his veins.
Morag kissed his chest, before looking up at him. "Will ye leave more men here tae help?" she asked, her voice slightly breathless as she tried to return to practical matters.
"A few, until the repairs are completely finished." Colin's mind was already working through the logistics, but he kept his voice carefully neutral, not wanting to mention anything about timing or deliveries that might raise questions.
As they dressed, Colin found himself stealing glances at Morag, his hands lingering whenever he helped her with her clothes. When she caught him watching, he would lean down to steal another kiss, as if he couldn't bear even brief separations.
Ye can never ken about the dowry, me love. Whatever happens, ye must never think what we are sharing is about anything other than us choosing each other.