Page 33 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold (Kilted Kisses #4)

When they finally emerged from the tent, both slightly disheveled despite their attempts to look presentable, Niven's knowing smirk told them their delay hadn't gone unnoticed.

Colin decided it was wise to ignore it. He glanced in Morag’s direction to make sure she was occupied with settling their belongings and couldn't overhear.

"Send word tae the messenger at the north road," he said quietly, "Tell them tae proceed with the delivery.

We'll be ready tae receive them by midday. "

Niven nodded and slipped away to carry out the order, and Colin felt the familiar weight of leadership settle back onto his shoulders. But when Morag appeared at his side, slipping her hand into his with easy affection, some of that weight felt manageable again.

I can have both, he decided, bringing her hand to his lips. I can love me wife and protect me clan. And she never has tae ken how those two things became connected.

Within the hour, their small party was ready to depart.

Colin left a few men behind to continue helping with repairs and to serve as protection for the village.

As they rode away, he felt a sense of satisfaction he hadn't experienced in months.

His people were safe, their homes were being restored, and the woman riding beside him was truly his wife in every sense.

The castle came into view as the morning mist began to clear, its familiar stone walls both welcoming and imposing.

Colin's mind was already turning to the challenges ahead—Fraser's continued threats, the need to strengthen their defenses, and the delicate matter of the dowry delivery that would solidify their clan's financial security.

But for now, with Morag's laughter still echoing in his ears and the memory of her warmth still lingering on his skin, Colin felt more hopeful about the future than he had in years.

Back at the castle, Morag was still glowing from their time together, her body humming with newfound intimacy and the memory of Colin's hands on her skin. Every time she thought about their passionate time in the tent, heat flooded her cheeks and a delicious ache settled low in her belly.

When she spotted Colin in the great hall, her heart leaped with anticipation. Without hesitation, she skipped to him, rising on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his lips, not caring who might see.

Colin responded immediately, his mouth moving against hers with the same hunger they'd shared all morning.

The kiss deepened, and Morag melted into him as his arms came around her waist. Emboldened by his response, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, craving more of the connection that had become as necessary as breathing.

But as Morag was beginning to imagine whether she could convince him to sneak back to their chamber with her, Colin stiffened. His hands moved to her shoulders, and he gently but firmly pushed her away, creating distance between them just when she wanted to eliminate it entirely.

"Colin?" Morag blinked in confusion, searching his face. The passionate, tender man from this morning seemed to have vanished, replaced the old Colin who was comfortable with putting distance between them. "What's wrong?"

"Naething's wrong," he said, but his tone was carefully neutral, almost formal. "I just... we're in public, lass."

The excuse felt hollow. This was the same man who'd held her possessively in front of his men just hours ago, who'd kissed her hand without shame in full view of the villagers. Now he was acting like she was something to be hidden.

"Since when has that mattered to ye?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light but unable to hide the hurt. "I hope ye're nae already tirin’ of yer new wife."

Colin's eyes darkened immediately, and for a moment she saw a flash of the passion they'd shared. "Never," he said fiercely, his voice rough with conviction. "Nae in a million lifetimes, Morag. Dinnae ever think that."

Relief flooded through her, and she reached for him again, craving the connection they'd built. But once more, Colin caught her hands gently but firmly, holding her at arm's length.

"Then what's the matter?" she asked, confusion and frustration warring in her chest. "This morning ye could barely keep yer hands off me, and now ye are acting like I'm made of glass."

Colin's jaw tightened, and she could see some internal struggle playing out across his features. "I have a meetin’," he said finally. "Several meetings, actually. Clan business that's... preoccupyin’ me."

Morag studied his face, noting the tension around his eyes, the way he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Meetings that require the Iron Laird tae be so focused he can't even kiss his wife properly?"

A muscle ticked in Colin's jaw, but true to his Iron Laird nature, he chose not to respond.

"Morag, could ye dae me a favor?" he asked, his tone carefully casual but somehow rehearsed.

"I need ye tae go through some documents in me study.

There are inventory lists that need organizing, and ye have a better hand fer details than I dae. "

Something in his manner struck her as odd—too deliberate, like he was trying to get rid of her. But she nodded slowly. "Of course. What am I looking fer exactly?"

"Just... sort through what's there. Make sense of it all." Colin's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Take yer time with it. I'll come look fer ye later."

Colin has never asked me tae stay somewhere until he comes fer me. He's sending me away . Something's happening that he daesnae want me tae ken about.

Morag nodded, and Colin leaned in to give her a tender kiss on the forehead before heading toward the eastern entrance to the castle.

Despite her confusion and hurt, she headed to his study as requested.

The room was indeed chaotic—stacks of documents scattered across his desk, supply lists mixed with correspondence from neighboring clans, records of grain stores piled haphazardly.

The task was straightforward but tedious, and she threw herself into it with the efficiency her brothers had always teased her about.

As she worked, her mind continued to wander back to Colin. She found herself remembering the way his lips felt against her throat, the reverent touch of his hands as they'd mapped every curve of her body. The memory made her pulse quicken and her skin flush with warmth.

But then her thoughts drifted to his strange behavior that morning. She’d never had the impression Colin had anything to hide from her. Not even when he kept her at arm’s length.

In her time there, there had only been one thing she had not understood: the conditions for their marriage.

If it had been a purely political decision, why had her father accepted Colin’s offer of marriage as opposed to several more prosperous lairds in the Highlands?

Whatever was going on, Morag couldn’t accept that Colin was hiding something from her.

Not now. Not when they had all this together.

Not when her body responded to his touch the way it did.

She decided she would try to speak to him again about it.

Focus.

But it was impossible. Every few minutes, she'd catch herself imagining Colin's fingers trailing along her neck, his mouth hot against her ear as he whispered endearments in Gaelic.

The documents blurred before her eyes as she remembered the weight of his body against hers, the way he'd made her feel cherished and desired and completely alive.

The sensations between her legs were so strong that Morag worked faster, eager to finish so she could find Colin and persuade him to meet her in their chambers. She’d interrupt the meeting. Whatever it was that had him preoccupied couldn't be more important than what they'd built between them.

Within an hour, she had sorted everything into neat piles and organized the information as requested.

She headed back toward the great hall, but as she descended the stairs, she heard the heavy rumble of cart wheels in the courtyard below.

Curious, she moved to a window and peered down to see a massive caravan arriving—not just one cart, but several, all heavily laden and escorted by armed guards.

The chests being unloaded were clearly valuable, ornate and heavy enough to require multiple men to carry each one. And their arrival had been the reason Colin had deliberately sent her away so she wouldn't see it arrive.

Rushing downstairs, Morag arrived in the courtyard just as Colin was directing the placement of what had to be the largest chest she'd ever seen.

"What is all this?" she asked.

Colin turned, his face immediately falling when he saw her. "Morag, I thought ye were?—"

"What is this, Colin?" she repeated.

"It's... it's the rest of yer dowry," he said carefully.

Morag stared at the ongoing procession of wealth being carried into their castle. She rushed forward, undoing the clasp of a chest. Gold coins spilled from inside, and she caught glimpses of jewels, fine fabrics, and what looked like deeds to property.

"The rest of it?" Her voice was sharp now. "I never realized the agreement was for this much coin."

"Morag, let's discuss this privately?—"

"Nay." She stepped back from him. "Ye kent exactly how much this was worth."

"Of course I kent," Colin said, frustration creeping into his voice. "It's an arranged marriage, Morag. Did ye think yer faither would send ye with naething?"

"I thought it all came in the first carriage!" Morag's voice rose. "Why now, Colin? Why today?"

Colin's jaw tightened, and she could see him struggling for words. "The timing... these things are complicated?—"