Never Love a Highlander (McCabe Trilogy 3)

To his surprise, when he opened the door to his chamber, Rionna was inside, still awake. She was sitting by the fire, her hair unbound and streaming to her waist. The tresses reflected the glow of the flames and shone like spun gold.

He’d fully expected her to retreat to her chamber and avoid him at all costs.

She didn’t hear him at first, and he took the opportunity to study her slender shape. It amused him that she’d re-bound her br**sts. It was quite remarkable how well the binding hid her lush curves. ’Twas a sin to hide such beauty.

As if sensing his stare, she turned slowly, her hair sliding over one shoulder.

“You should be asleep,” he said gruffly. “ ’Tis late and we depart in the morning.”

“So soon?”

“Aye. We must make haste.”

“ ’Tis snowing. The storm has set in.”

Caelen nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled at his boots and tossed them aside. “ ’Tis likely to snow the night through. The going will be slow, but if we wait for the weather to break, we’ll be here until spring.”

Rionna went quiet. Confusion mirrored in her eyes. But she hesitated, her lips drawn as if she battled indecision.

He waited, not wanting to do any more that would put them at odds. He seemed to have the ridiculous habit of shoving his foot into his mouth every time he opened it.

“Will you be wanting to get on with it tonight?”

His eyebrows drew together and his forehead wrinkled as he stared back at her. “Get on with what, lass?”

She gestured toward the bed, color surging into her cheeks, painting them a dusky rose he found fascinating. Realization hit him, and again he was struck by how protective her hesitancy made him.

“Come here, Rionna.”

For a moment he thought she was going to disobey him. Then with a sigh, she rose gracefully from her place by the fire and walked toward him, her hair shimmering down her back like a lighted torch.

When she was close enough, he drew her between his thighs and gathered her hands in his.

“If I expect you to mount a horse tomorrow, and ’tis obvious I do, then I’ll not be doing anything tonight that would make you too tender for the ride.”

Her blush deepened and she ducked her head.

He squeezed her hands so she’d look back at him. “However, when we do get around to consummating our marriage, you have nothing to fear, lass. I’ll not do anything that frightens or hurts you.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. She nervously licked her bottom lip, leaving it shiny and moist in the glow of the firelight.

Unable to resist the unintentional invitation, he tugged at her hands until she was perched on his thigh. With a gentleness and grace he didn’t know he possessed, he stroked his hand over her cheekbone and then delved his fingers into the mass of hair behind her ear.

Warmed by her sitting by the fire for so long, it was indeed like caressing sunshine. Mesmerized by the feel and sight of the strands spilling and sliding over his fingers like liquid silk—he was sure he’d never touched anything so fine—he drew her closer until their mouths were just a breath away.

“Kiss me,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize.

The directive unsettled her. She sat rigid in his lap, so tense she resembled a stone pillar. She looked at him, then at his mouth, and licked her lips again.

Ah hell.

His c**k was as rigid as she was. He shifted his position, not wanting to alarm her, but every time he moved, he only became more aware of the fact that a beautiful, fiery woman was sitting in his arms. A woman he’d told he wasn’t consummating their marriage tonight.

Idiot.

Surely he could put her on the horse with him so she experienced no discomfort.

Nay, that wouldn’t work either because then he’d have to endure the entire ride in agony.

He sighed and resigned himself to a night of extreme discomfort. He had no intention of bedding her, but neither would he allow her to sleep in her own chamber.

His brothers never spent a night away from their wives. He’d give them no cause to think he was lacking.

Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his. Just barely a touch, but it was like a streak of lightning. Hot. His toes even tingled as if they’d been dipped in fire.

It took every bit of his restraint not to roll her onto the bed and kiss her senseless. His newfound patience and desire to not frighten the daylights out of her was one of his more stupid decisions.

She drew away immediately, her eyes wide, a touch of pink suffusing her soft cheeks. Then she slid one hand up his chest and over his shoulder, staring warily at him the whole while as if she expected him to bite her for daring to touch him. Jesu, but he was nigh to the point of begging her to touch him.

Her fingers wandered to his neck and then she put her mouth carefully to his again. This time she remained there as she tentatively explored his mouth. With her tongue. Sweet mother of God, this was killing him.

She stirred restlessly against him as she pressed closer, her mouth hotly fused to his.

A surge of lust rolled through his body, but he held back, not wanting to destroy the sweetness of her offering. She was an innocent for all her warrior ways and attempts at acting like a man. She deserved all the gentleness and wooing he could muster, though God only knew he’d deserve sainthood before this was over with.

“ ’Tis not unpleasant, this kissing,” she whispered.

“Nay, lass, ’tis not unpleasant at all. Who told you such?”

She paused and pulled farther away, her eyes faintly glazed as she stared back at him. “No one. I’ve never kissed anyone before. ’Tis the truth I don’t know the way of it.”