Page 37

C lara fought to conquer her shame as she stood before Murdo and his brother. She fisted her hands to stop her body from trembling.

Her husband stared at her with frank appraisal, and she braced herself for his judgment.

But she no longer cared. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Even her scar she now wore with pride, the mark of her survival—and her mother’s survival—against men who thought women were possessions to be used, exploited, then tossed aside.

I’m finally free—free from the burden of honor and duty.

James met her gaze, and, for the first time, she saw admiration in his eyes.

“Come out of the water, lass,” Murdo said. “Where are yer clothes?”

Her nipples pebbled in the air, and she fought the little pulse of need ignited by the fire in his eyes. Then he shifted his gaze to the scar on her arm and his eyes darkened.

“I’m not ashamed of my body,” she said, touching her scar, “or of this . Nor am I ashamed of who I am. Neither should your brother be ashamed of who he is—or whom he loves.”

James shifted from one foot to another and lowered his gaze.

“Are you ashamed, husband?” Clara challenged.

Murdo’s gaze wandered over her body, and her blood warmed at the raw desire in his eyes.

Then he nodded.

“Aye,” he said. “I am ashamed—more than I’ve ever been in my life, and more than I ever hope to be again.”

He lifted his hands to his face. When he lowered them again, his eyes glistened with moisture.

“Oh, Clara…” he whispered. “There’s one thing of which I am most heartily ashamed, and I’ll carry that shame until I draw my last breath.”

He stepped toward her, then dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

“I’m ashamed of myself .”

He extended his hand, but she resisted the temptation to take it.

Despair flickered in his eyes, and he dipped forward and kissed the ground at her feet.

Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her stomach.

“Oh, my love, forgive me!” he said, his voice reverberating through her bones.

“I’ve mourned the loss of the father I loved—but that man died years ago, replaced by a bitter soul.

I know I’m not even worthy to kiss the ground before ye.

But ye can teach me to be worthy, Clara.

Teach me to be strong, and brave—to stand up for what’s right, no matter the consequence to myself.

Teach me to be considerate, to be a man who has a chance of coming close to being worthy of ye. ”

Clara placed her hand on his head and buried her fingers in his soft locks. He let out a sigh, his warm breath caressing the skin of her belly.

“I love ye, Clara. I want to spend the rest of my life showing ye how much.”

He kissed her thigh, and a pulse of need flared in her center. She squeezed her thighs together to temper the surge of moisture, suppressing her shame at the scent of her own desire.

Murdo inhaled, his nostrils flaring, and let out a low rumble of satisfaction.

“Ahem.”

Clara glanced up to see James, his face as red as fire.

“I ought to leave.”

“No, brother,” Murdo said, lifting his head.

“Ye must witness this. I want ye to hear my declaration to the woman I love—my soul mate, my goddess. When we return to the castle, I want the whole clan to witness my declaration. I want to climb to the summit of Beinn Urraim and shout my love to the whole world.”

“I ken that, brother, but I’ve no wish to intrude on ye when ye’re begging yer wife’s forgiveness.”

“Why’s that?” Clara asked.

James’s mouth twitched into a grin. “Lass, I’ve no wish to make ye feel compelled to forgive him merely because he has a witness to his plea.

If ye wish to bash him over the head with a rock and toss him in the loch, ye have yer laird’s full blessing.

In fact, lass, ye have my blessing to do anything ye like. ”

He issued a bow. “Ye’ve done my brother a great honor by marrying him, lass, and I’m proud to call ye sister. But now”—he lowered his gaze to Murdo and grinned, revealing white, even teeth—“I’ll leave ye in peace. Brother, heed yer laird’s command.”

“What do ye command?” Murdo asked.

“Atone for yer sins toward yer wife,” James said. “Spend the rest of the day atoning for them, in any manner ye see fit that gives pleasure to her and absolution for yerself.”

He winked at Clara, then made his way back along the path, singing to himself. His voice carried through the air even after he disappeared out of sight.

Murdo tilted his head and gazed at Clara, a plea in his eyes.

“I pledge, here and now to ye, Clara, that I shall love, honor, and cherish ye. I shall honor ye with my soul, and worship ye with my body. I only ask that ye give this wretched husband of yers another chance.”

He reached for her hand and peppered her fingers with kisses. Then he flicked his tongue against her skin, tracing her finger from root to tip, taking it into his mouth and curling his tongue around it.

“Oh, lass, ye taste so sweet!” he said. “I yearn to feast on ye—if ye’ll let me.”

Her heart swelled at the love in his voice.

“Did not your laird command it?”

He tilted his head up, and she caught her breath at the desire in his eyes, pulsing with a deep-emerald flame.

“I love ye, Clara,” he said, “more than life itself. But I’ll not waste my breath telling ye—I wish to show ye.”

He grew still, hope flickering in his eyes while he waited for her response.

Then she lowered herself to her knees.

Hope morphed into joy—the pure joy of a soul no longer imprisoned by the chains of filial duty. Then he claimed her mouth in a hungry kiss, his lips sliding over hers. Tongues clashing, they relished the taste of each other as he pulled her to the ground.

He entered her swiftly, sliding into her body with ease, and she parted her thighs in welcome, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him deeper inside.

“Och, lass—ye’ll be the undoing of me!”

His breath came out in short, sharp puffs, then he tilted his head back and cried out her name, which echoed across the landscape, reverberating into the earth as she writhed beneath him, surrendering to his touch.

The wave crested as she shattered around him while he roared out his pleasure.

He plunged into her, finding completion at last, and a delicious heat swelled within her, threading through her body.

They lay together, Clara relishing the ground against her back, the land to which she now belonged, their bodies rippling with the aftershocks of their climax, while the breeze rippled over the loch, and she fell into a doze.

When she opened her eyes, she saw her husband staring down at her, his hair illuminated against the backdrop of the sun. He dipped his head and brushed his lips against hers, and she lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek.

“I love you, Murdo,” she whispered.

He blinked, and moisture gleamed in his eyes. She brushed his cheek with her thumb to find it wet with tears.

“Don’t cry for me, my love.”

“They’re tears of joy,” he replied, “and relief—that while I deserve never to be forgiven, ye’re willing to let me atone for my sins.”

“Oh, atone , is it?” she said mischievously.

“Aye,” he said. “There’s much atonement to come.

In the loch, while the water engulfs us, and our love sends ripples across the water.

Against the granite rock with its warmth on yer back after it’s been in the sun all day.

Among the heather on the slopes of the mountain, where I can roar out my love for ye to rival the stags in rut… ”

Her body pulsed with desire at the raw need in his voice.

“And then I’ll carry ye home and make love to ye all night in our bed while ye scream my name for all the clan to hear.”

“Murdo!”

“Aye, lass,” he said, and pleasure flared as he shifted inside her. “It’s time to take my wife home.”

“Home…”

He withdrew, and she shivered at the sense of loss before he pulled her into his arms.

“Aye, lass,” he said. “Home. Strathburn Castle is yer home as much as it’s mine.”

She took his hand and kissed it. “My home is with you, Murdo.”

His manhood twitched as if in eagerness at her words, and she lifted her eyebrows.

“Husband, are you ready for me again, so soon?”

“Aye,” he said, helping her to her feet. “I’m always ready for ye. Ready to worship ye, and to love ye. In securing yer hand, I’m the victor.”

“Then claim your prize.”

“With pleasure.”

She let out a shriek as he swooped her up into his arms and waded into the loch. Then he entered her once more, sending ripples across the water’s surface, and roared into the sky.

“I love ye, Clara McTavish!”

His voice echoed across the landscape, declaring his heart, unfettered by duty of convention. Her sea warrior, her unicorn.

Her soul mate.