The Highlander's Defiant Captive (The Lairds Most Likely 4)

He kissed her before he set her gently on the bed, coming down over her, so his long black silky hair fell around her like an ebony veil. She reached up and grabbed a handful, using it as a rope to bring him down for more kisses. When he broke away, they were both panting.

"Does your arm hurt, lass?" he asked roughly, leaning on one elbow and surveying her with a tender fervor that made her toes curl against the crisp white sheets.

"No." To prove it, she raised her injured arm so she could stroke that stubborn jaw. He'd escaped his kinsmen long enough to shave before he came to her, she noted.

Callum caught her hand and bent to kiss the scar with a care that made her tremble. "That’s good news."

She rose to lean over him. When she noticed how his gaze fixed on her drooping bodice, she laughed. "I'll show ye properly if you like."

"Aye, lass." His eyes met hers, blazing with hunger. "Ye know you put me in a fever."

"I hope so."

He sat up to face her. "Let me see ye."

Her trembling intensified as he caught the silk and drew it over her head, flinging it to the floor. Shyness at knowing she was naked before him made her eyes flutter down from his. She fought the urge to raise her hands to conceal herself.

"Mhairi…" he said on an awed sigh, and she made herself meet his stare. He looked transfixed. "I dinnae deserve ye, lass."

"Do I please ye?" The light in his eyes already told her she did.

"More than I can say. You're a jewel beyond price. You're exquisite."

She'd learned to mistrust male susceptibility to the way she looked. Beauty was dangerous. But as she stared into Callum's face and saw what pleasure he took in her, she gloried in his desire.

"I'm glad."

"Let me touch ye," he whispered. "Only the greatest bard could describe what I feel now and do the moment justice, do ye justice. But let me show ye what honor I pay you."

That throbbing between her legs became more powerful, and her skin tightened in carnal anticipation. "Ye could have touched me before tonight."

The humor she'd always found attractive, even in their first stormy interactions, set creases around his brown eyes. "Och, I didnae trust myself to put my hands on ye and keep my head."

"Aye, it was a verra chaste courtship." Even in her innocence, she'd recognized that.

Since she’d agreed to become his wife, he'd turned the tower bedroom over to her and slept in the west tower, making a public statement that he respected his bride's virginity until they were wed.

His amusement deepened. "Ye sound like you mind."

With every moment, her nakedness bothered her less. "You're not the only one who yearns, Mackinnon."

"You’re calling me Mackinnon again?" He gave a dramatic sigh. "Would Mackinnon dare to touch his lady's perfect bosom?"

Mhairi’s lips firmed as she fought the urge to laugh. "Callum certainly can." She paused. "Especially if he takes off his shirt first."

He didn't hesitate. Within seconds, his loose white shirt joined her nightdress on the carpet. "You're magnificent," she said in awe.

"You've seen me without a shirt before."

"Aye," she said, the word redolent of appreciation.

She reached out to rub her hand over the hard chest with its light covering of silky black hair. The friction under her palms made her nipples tighten to the edge of pain.

Scars marked his body. Courtesy of her kinsmen, she guessed, but right now, she didn't want to think about him fighting the Drummonds.

She ran her lips along one curving white line that slashed across his ribs. He groaned and tangled his hands in her hair, loosely so she was free to taste him wherever she wanted. She kissed each of his scars. Last of all, she pressed her lips to the scar on his arm, the one she'd given him.

"I'm sorry I hurt ye," she murmured.