The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6)

A faint smile lifted her lips, and she indicated the space beside her. "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation to come through the mail?"

Dear God above, what the hell was wrong with him? And what the hell was he doing over here when he could be lying beside her?

Elation swelled inside him, swept him out into a whirlpool of hot anticipation. In one huge stride, he landed back in the bed.

Chapter 23

Emily was almost sorry Hamish lit the lamp. The determination in his face sent a jagged thrill through her, half-panic, half-excitement. Then he came back to bed, and there was no time for second thoughts or fear or, heaven help her, retreat. He was kissing her wildly, madly, hungrily as if he starved for her. She hadn’t liked the taste of the whisky when she’d tried it. On Hamish’s lips, it turned into smoky nectar.

She imagined she’d already learned about kissing, but this storm of passion proved she had no idea. She sank down and wrapped her arms around him, as his big body crushed her into the mattress. His arousal, hard and heavy against her belly, made all her secret places clench in wicked anticipation.

An eternity of heat and hunger later, he wrenched far enough away to speak. "You make me so happy, Emily."

He didn’t sound like the domineering Scot who always set her hackles up. He sounded vulnerable and desperate. As she gazed into his face, she understood that he had indeed longed for her. He’d been as lonely without her as she’d been without him.

One trembling hand rose to his cheek, feeling new whiskers scrape under her palm. A tenderness so piercing it was painful filled her and briefly swamped her physical excitement.

"You make me happy, too, Hamish," she murmured. He was infuriating and stubborn, and often wrongheaded. But he was also clever and principled and stalwart in his affections.

And she loved him more than she loved anyone else in the world.

At this profound moment, it didn’t even matter that he didn’t love her. She’d been married for almost a year. It was past time that she knew her husband’s body.

The feverish urgency drained from his blue eyes, replaced by a glow that only heightened her poignant emotion. He shifted until they lay facing each other. He took her hand in his strong, capable grip. "I swear I’ll always do my best for you, Emily. You have all my loyalty."

His rich bass voice was even deeper than usual. He spoke as if he made a sacred vow. Tears pricked at her eyes, not just because of his words but because of his intense expression. This wasn’t a mere meeting of bodies, powerful as that promised to be, but something much more significant. A matter of souls. For him as well as her.

"You have my loyalty, too, Hamish. Always." You have my love.

He dipped his head and kissed her with such reverence, her heart swelled and threatened to break free. She answered with all the unspoken love she’d only just recognized. For a space, sweetness reigned, before inevitably passion surged once more.

Hamish was panting when he drew away. So was she.

She lay silent, overcome by her tumultuous feelings, while he rose to his knees and tugged his shirt over his head. Twice before, she’d seen him without a shirt, but his male magnificence trapped the breath in her throat just like the first time.

With an unsteady hand, she smoothed a path across one firm pectoral. The whorls of hair beneath her palm were soft, and his skin radiated heat. He closed his eyes and made a deep sound in his throat like a purr.

Her lion of Glen Lyon. She smiled as she lifted her hand away.

He smiled back and waved toward the crumpled shirt she wore. "Your turn."

Trembling, she shifted up and drew the shirt over her head, casting it to the floor. She lowered her eyes, not sure she was ready to see his reaction. She’d never been naked in front of a man. Hamish’s stare felt like a physical force.

She waited for him to catch her up in his arms, but he didn’t touch her. After a few seconds, she dared to meet his gaze. The appreciation in his eyes warmed her skin, and she found the courage to straighten her spine and endure his wondering attention.

"You’re lovelier than a clear night sky," he said softly.

With a sigh of purely feminine pleasure, she curled her toes into the sheet beneath her. For the first time in her life, Emily felt genuinely beautiful. She basked in the waves of desire radiating off him.

Hamish caught her around the waist and hauled her up for a deep kiss that felt like the promise of pleasure to come. He started to explore her body, kissing her nose and her chin and her cheeks while his hands discovered her curves. Sensation after sensation rioted through her. She shivered and twisted beneath his touch, encouraging more daring forays. His lips trailed delight down her neck, then ventured lower until he took one pearled nipple into his mouth.

She cried out in startled pleasure when his tongue flicked against the aching point, then again when he drew on her. Arousal rushed through her and settled as a simmering weight in the pit of her stomach. She arched up in shameless appeal for more and buried her hands in the heavy silk of his hair. When his fingers teased her other breast, she moaned and gripped his hair harder.

"I love your hair," she gasped, as it tumbled over her hands. I love you.

He gave an unsteady laugh against her breast.

"Ooh," she said, as that sent new sensation to join the others shooting through her. The brush of his breath on her flesh gave her goosebumps.