Page 45 of The Laird’s Vengeful Desire (The Highland Sisters’ Secret Desires #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“ I dinnae ken what tae dae anymore.”

This is it then, Rhona thought, her heart breaking. This is where it ends.

But even as the thought formed, something rebellious flared in her chest. Why should they allow duty and politics and other people’s expectations destroy what they’d found? Why should they surrender without a fight?

“Ye truly dinnae ken?” she asked, her voice sharper than she’d intended.

Ian looked up, something cautious flickering in his green eyes. “What?”

“Ye stand here, tellin’ me how ye’d be on yer knees if things were different, how ye’d choose me if ye were free tae choose.” She stepped closer, close enough to see the way his breathing quickened. “But ye act as if ye have nay choice at all.”

“I dinnae–”

“Ye dae.” She reached up to cup his face, feeling the slight roughness of stubble beneath her palms. “Ye always have a choice, Ian Wallace. The question is whether ye’re brave enough tae make it.”

“Ye dinnae understand what ye’re askin’–”

“Och, aye?” she stepped closer, until there was barely a breath of space between them. “Ye think I dinnae ken the cost? Ye think I havenae counted every price we’d have tae pay?”

“Then ye ken ‘tis impossible.”

“Nay. Difficult, yes. Dangerous, certainly. But nae impossible.” Her hands slid down to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. “Unless ye truly dinnae want me.”

Ian’s control snapped. His hands shot up to frame her face, his green eyes blazing with fierce intensity. “Dinnae want ye? Rhona, I want ye so desperately it’s drivin’ me mad! I want ye in me bed, in me arms, by me side fer the rest of me life.”

“Then why–”

“Because I love ye too damned much tae trap ye!” The confession exploded from him like a dam bursting. “Because ye deserved better than a man who can only offer ye a marriage borne from political necessity!”

The words hit her like a tidal wave. “Ye… ye love me?”

“Aye.” The admission seemed to tear something loose in his chest. “God help me, I love ye, Rhona. I love yer fierce spirit and yer kind heart. I love the way ye stood up tae me Council and the way ye protect frightened bairns. I love that ye see past the Wallace name tae the man beneath.”

He loves me!

The knowledge sang through her veins like whisky, burning in the most delicious way, warming her from the inside out. “Ian–”

“So dinnae ye dare stand here and tell me I dinnae want ye,” he continued roughly. “This is the look of a man who’s fallen so hard fer a lass that he’d rather see her free than bound tae him against her will.”

Rhona reached up to cover his hands in hers, feeling the slight tremor in his fingers. “And what if I told ye that it wouldnae be against me will?”

His eyes searched her face desperately. “What are ye sayin’?”

“I’m sayin that I love ye too, ye stubborn, honorable fool!” the declaration spilled from her lips. “I love yer strength and yer gentleness. I love the way ye lead with yer heart instead of just yer head. I love that ye’d sacrifice yer happiness fer mine.”

“Are ye–”

“If ye were tae ask me again – truly ask me, nae because yer Council demands it, nae because the king’s comin’, but because ye, Ian, want me as yer wife – me answer would be yes.”

The change in Ian’s expression was like watching the sun break through darkened storm clouds. “D’ye mean it?”

“Aye.” She stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “From the depths of me soul.”

“Even kennin’ what it could cost ye? Yer freedom–”

“Me freedom?” she laughed softly. “Ian, I’ve never felt more free than I dae right now, standin’ here with ye, speaking the truth of me heart.”

Ian didn’t respond. Instead, he just stared at her for what felt like an eternity, something wild and desperate flaring in his green eyes. “Rhona, if ye keep lookin’ at me like that…”

“Like what?”

“Like ye want me as much as I want ye…”

“’Tis because I dae.” The admission left her breathless. “I want ye, Ian Wallace. All of ye.”

The last of his restraint snapped visibly and in an instant, Ian’s mouth crashed down upon hers with desperate hunger, kissing her like a man drowning. Rhona melted into him, her body coming alive under his touch in ways she’d never imagined possible.

“I need ye,” he whispered against her lips. “I need tae show ye how much I love ye.”

“Then show me,” she breathed.

But instead of rushing to undress her, Ian surprised her by stepping back, his eyes never leaving her face. “Nae here. Nae like this…” his voice was rough with desire, but tender. “Ye deserve better than a hurried couplin’.”

“Ian–”

“Trust me.” He took her hand, leading her to where the waterfall created a natural alcove behind the falling water. The space was hidden from view, carpeted with soft moss and warmed by the afternoon sun filtering through the soft mist from the waterfall.

There, with the sound of water creating a curtain of privacy around them, Ian turned to face her again. That time, when he reached for the laces of her dress, his movements were different – slower, more reverent, as if he were unwrapping the most precious gift.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he confessed as the wool slipped from her shoulders. “Of havin’ ye here, in this place.”

The cool mist from the waterfall kissed her bare skin, making her shiver – not from cold, but from the intensity of his gaze. When she stood before him in only her chemise, the thin fabric felt transparent from the moisture in the air, and Ian’s breath caught audibly.

“Ye look like a woodland sprite,” he murmured, reaching out to trace the line of her collarbone where droplets of water had gathered. “Like somethin’ from the old stories about the fae,”

His touch sent fire racing through her veins, and when he drew the chemise over her head, leaving her completely bare, she felt no shame – only a sense of rightness, of coming home.

“Now ye,” she whispered, her hands moving to the fastenings of his shirt.

She took the lead in undressing him, her fingers exploring the landscape of his body with newfound confidence. Each scar told a story, each tattoo held meaning, and she treated each one with the reverence they deserved.

When they were both naked, standing in their hidden grotto with water cascading around them like a natural cathedral, Ian gathered her close. The feeling of his skin against hers, warmed by sunlight and cooled by mist, was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

“Are ye sure?” he asked one final time, his voice hoarse with need.

“Aye.” She whispered. “More than anythin’.”

Ian lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to a sun-warmed patch of moss. He laid her down with infinite gentleness, his hands mapping her body with reverent touches that made her arch beneath him.

That was what it meant tae be cherished, she thought dimly as his mouth found the pulse point at her throat.

When his kissed trailed lower, pressing tender devotion to her collarbone, to the pink peaks atop her breasts, she felt as if she might shatter from the intensity of it.

But then his mouth continued its journey downward, settling between her thighs with intimate purpose, and she nearly came apart entirely.

“Ian,” she gasped, her hands fisting in his dark hair as sensation overwhelmed her.

“Let me love ye, mo leànnàn .” He murmured against her most sensitive skin.

Me sweetheart.

Her heart felt like it might leap right out of her chest. The first touch of his tongue sent liquid fire racing through her veins, her back arching involuntarily off the bed as the titillatingly exquisite sensation overwhelmed her.

She’d never imagined such intimacy was possible, never dreamed that her body could feel such exquisite pleasure.

When he finally found the small bundle of nerves at her core, already slick with desire, he lavished it with gentle, circular attention, his tongue tracing patterns that made her cry out in breathless wonder, alternating between soft licks and tender suction – and Rhona wondered if she might die from the intensity.

“Och… Och! ” she whimpered, her voice thick with need “Ian… what are ye daein’ tae me?”

“Worshippin’ ye as ye deserve,” he growled against her heated flesh, the vibration of his deep voice sending another round of shockwaves through her trembling body.

Her hands tightened in his dark hair, holding him to her as waves of sensation built higher and higher. When he slipped a finger inside her tight, wet heat, moving in rhythm with his tongue, she cried oud wildly as her hips rose to meet his touch

“Ian,” she sobbed, her voice breaking with need. “Please… I cannae…”

“Aye, ye can,” he murmured, his breath hot against her most sensitive flesh. “Let me feel ye come apart fer me, lass.”

He was relentless in his devotion, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony – tongue stroking, finger thrusting deeper as he added a second digit, stretching her further.

He suckled gently on the tiny bud between her legs while his fingers buried themselves deep within her, making her wild with need, her body writhing beneath him as her pleasure reached new heights.

Then, all at once, it crashed over her like a tsunami.

She was sobbing his name as her body convulsed with the most delicious release, her inner muscles clenching around his fingers as ecstasy consumed her.

Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, and she could feel her essence coating his fingers as her body surrendered completely.

He held her through it all, his free hand stroking her hip while he murmured words of love and praise against her most sensitive flesh.

“Ye’re so beautiful when ye let go fer me,” he whispered, pressing gentle kisses to her inner thigh as the aftershocks rippled through her. “So perfect. So ravishin’.”

When she finally caught her breath, her skin flushed and glowed and she found him watching her with such tender satisfaction that her heart clenched.

“That was…” she began, then stopped, unable to find the words.