Page 39 of To Claim His Highland Bride

She did, and when she could look no more she finally nodded.

At her signal, Marcus opened the lantern and extinguished the light until darkness unlike anything she’d ever known surrounded them.

“It’s all right, Rowena.” Marcus reached for her hand. His voice seemed disembodied, yet she could feel him right beside her and took comfort in that. The sound of rushing water had slowed. The lapping of the water against the edge of their safe haven wrapped around them. Only a hand’s width separated her from Marcus and she could sense every action of his body. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the tension of his hands as he ran them across his breeches.

The scent of the earth and the salt water from the sea mixed with the warm, clean male fragrance that belonged to Marcus. She wanted to breathe in the aroma, take it into her nostrils, into her body. The thought sent a ripple of shocked awareness through her. That suddenly wasn’t all of him she wanted in her body. She wanted to be joined with him in the same searing fashion that she had known last night. She could not see him, but she could touch every part of him while they waited for whatever might happen next in this dark and dangerous cave.

She moistened her lips with her tongue and reached for Marcus. For a heartbeat she hesitated. What about the possibility of a bairn? Rowena’s hand hung suspended partway between her body and Marcus’s. If she were already pregnant, then another joining would hardly matter. If she were not, then their lovemaking could expose her to further risk.

She pulled her fingers back, sitting with the indecision in her chest. Her body burned even as her mind spun through every scenario, until she finally decided that in their present situation there was no guarantee of a tomorrow. Only the here and now mattered. She hoped Marcus would feel the same way as she once again extended her hand until it made contact with his muscular arm. She shifted closer and ran her fingers over his sculpted flesh. She’d never felt so powerful, or so terrified of both death and his refusal.

“What are you doing?” His voice was deep and gravelled in the silence of the cave.

Now that she’d made her decision, confidence filled her. “I need something to take my mind off our present situation.” She wished she could see what was in his eyes.

He must have had the same thought because she heard him fumbling around in this sporran, no doubt searching for his flint and steel.

“Don’t light the lantern,” she said, finding his hand and stilling his movements. “I don’t want to see how far the water has risen. I’d like to continue to believe we are safe enough for now.”

He took her hand in his. “I can understand that. It is difficult sitting here and thinking that at any moment we might drown.” He paused. “Are you certain you wish to pass the time in such an intimate way?” His voice was thick, laced with intensity.

She squeezed his hand before releasing it, finding his torso and feathering her hands up his chest. “I want only to feel. To not think about anything except the pleasure we can bring each other. If we are to face death, I want to feel desired, cared for . . .” Loved. Rowena bit her lip to stop the word. But it was true. She was in love with Marcus. This Marcus, not the one from her past. The realisation crashed over her with the power of a rogue wave. And he was going to hurt her. Not today when they shared this moment, but when he left her at Dunvegan after their marriage was annulled. After that, he would move on to settle his debts without her. She wanted all of him, today and forever. But that was impossible. Once their marriage was over, he would never allow her on his ship again.

So, she would settle for this moment. The beauty of loving him in this moment would dull the edges of the knife that would eventually cut into her heart. “I need you, Marcus. I want you.”

Marcus exhaled in a whoosh of air. “We came on this adventure to help erase my sins, to find treasure to placate the families of those whose lives I destroyed, and yet I am the one receiving a priceless treasure.” He pulled his shirt out from where it was tucked into his breeches and began unbuttoning it. When he was done, he spread his shirt on the rock, creating a layer of warmth and dryness. “I swore I would never take that treasure unless you gifted it to me.”

“I am offering myself to you.” Her fingers found the silken flesh that had been beneath his shirt. Thick muscles flexed as she ran her fingers over his chest where it separated into eight defined ridges of hard flesh. She remembered from last night that his nipples were dark, flat disks in a wide chest sprinkled with black hair, and that his hair was thicker below his belly button, creating a trail disappearing into his breeches.

With a groan of impatience, she reached for the ties of his breeches. His hand snaked out to stop her. “If you touch me there at this moment, you will undo me before we even get started.”

Did she truly have that much power over him? “I do not mean to force you into anything, Marcus. If you do not want me . . .”

Marcus growled in frustration and tightened his grip. “Not want you? How could any man not want you? You are all I want. My body aches for you, but I can’t give you what you deserve. Don’t you see that?”

“In this moment, none of that matters, Marcus. It is simply you and me. Nothing else exists.”

Chapter Sixteen

Over the past six months on his ship, Marcus had seen how a grey day could be brightened by a fleeting moment of light as the sun found a break in the clouds while dropping to the horizon. He’d also seen the purple, gold, and green lights of the Na Fir-Chlis “dance” with the stars against the blackness of night. So many days and nights had stolen his breath with their beauty, their magnificence, but he’d never imagined anything more exquisite than the sound of Rowena’s voice asking him to merge his body with hers.

How he wanted to light the lantern so he could see her face as he touched her for what would most likely be the last time. Death or distance could keep them apart in the future. Marcus blew out a shaky breath. “You are right. All we have is now. Let us not waste a moment.”

He could hear Rowena moving. “Since I cannot see you, tell me what you are doing.”

She sucked in a breath. “I am releasing my hair from its plait.”

“Would you allow me?” He reached out his hands and once he found her shoulders, he ran his fingers up her neck to her jawline then around to where her hair was secured by a tie. He loosened the tie and gently allowed his fingers to slide through her heavy hair, tugging the plait until her long locks flowed freely. He brought the ends to his nose and drew in her scent. “Your hair smells like sunshine and heather. It has always reminded me of home.” He settled the long waves over her shoulders and ran his hands down her arms before moving back up until he found the laces on her tunic.

“May I remove your clothes?”

“Aye.” The word was a plea.

Last night he had looked his fill at her naked body. He pulled that memory into his thoughts as he slowly unlaced her tunic, opening it and slowly sliding it over her shoulders and from her arms. He quickly unlaced her stays, exposing her upper body to the cool air in the cave, and yet her skin was warm where he touched.

“Now I’ll be removing your boots, trousers, and drawers.” She reclined on the shirt he’d spread out earlier, allowing him to first remove her boots and hose before exploring her long, lean muscles as he released her legs from their leather coverings. Rowena’s body was slim and yet also muscular. Her stomach was tight, her legs long and shapely. Her body was sleek and powerful and perfect. He’d seen one light scar upon her flesh, at the top of her right knee, where she’d told him she’d fallen down the hard stone stairway at the front entrance of Dunvegan as a child. She’d had no mother to patch up her wound, and instead of telling her brothers of her injury, she’d hidden it away, not wanting to appear weak in front of a household of men. Marcus bent forward and pressed a kiss to the resulting scar.

Her breath hitched.