Page 45 of Highland Seduction

His tongue darted in and out, and then his thumb was there against her. Rubbing, circling. But he did not stop, even when she begged for release. Instead, Tor pushed gently on her legs, giving him even greater access than before.

She could no longer hang on, even though Ainsley wished to very much. Wished this moment could last and last . . . she was so warm, her heart beat so fast. It was as if every part of her wished to come apart at once.

And it did.

Her buttocks clenched as Ainsley trembled. At first uncontrollably, and then the quivering receded to a more steady throbbing, like a heartbeat. Slowly she returned to the bed from wherever she’d been just a moment ago.

When she looked down, Tor was still between her legs, watching her.

“Ainsley,” he said finally, his voice ragged, “we’re no’ getting this marriage annulled.”

Chapter 26

“I’ve word from McGreghere.” Tor sat beside Ainsley on the bed. The sun had not yet risen, but when he’d gone belowstairs to visit the stables, he’d been given a missive. Reaching out to pet Ivy, curled as always beside his wife, he said, “Will ye come along?”

Her eyes fluttered open.

Tor abandoned the kitten to instead run his fingers along her smooth cheek. It had been two days since that night. Since he’d made the declaration that Ainsley had laughed at, thinking he’d been jesting. Thinking he’d said the words simply because of what had just happened between them.

But he hadn’t. He’d said them because the thought of being parted from his wife was becoming more than undesirable. It was, in short, not going to happen.

“I am sleepy,” she said, snuggling closer to Ivy, who seemed to feel the same.

“’Tis raining,” he said. “A good morn to stay abed. Shall I fetch ye aught before I leave?”

“Nay,” she said, her eyes closing already. “Give my regards to McGreghere.”

He kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “Aye, lass. I will.”

Donning a cloak for protection against the rain, Tor made his way across town. The sun, now risen, brought townspeople with it. As they began their day, he thought of Castle MacRob and his mornings there. He imagined bringing Ainsley back with him. His brother would be as surprised now as he had been to learn Catlin had fallen for the Shaw laird in truth. Smiling, he considered his mother’s response, knowing she would be quite pleased.

Others, though, may not be as accepting. Their feud with Clan Shaw, for some, had lasted a lifetime. Even for men like him, it was difficult to remember a time when the two clans were allies.

By the time he reached the lawyer’s house and knocked on the door, Tor was ready to get out of the rain. McGreghere himself opened it, gesturing for him to come inside.

“Apologies for bringing ye out in the rain so early. I knew ye’d wish to follow the lead posthaste.”

Tor removed his hood. “No apologies necessary, my friend.”

“Last eve I spoke with a saddler who claims to have spoken to a woman of the same description as Marta. He’d been commissioned to repair a saddle days earlier.”

She was alive. And here, in Berwick. Tor could feel as much. But they needed to find the couple before they moved on.

“Has she come for it yet?”

“Nay,” McGreghere said. “He bid her return on this day. I spoke with him late last eve and would have sent word then, but it was already well beyond when the curfew bell had rung.”

The curfew bell. An English tradition practiced here in the south that had nearly gotten him and his brothers arrested once. “That blasted bell,” he muttered.

McGreghere laughed. “I think of it at times, the three of ye walking through the street with no mind that all others had retired.”

Though McGreghere had not been with them, he’d learned of it the next day when the entire town whispered of the MacRobs who’d defied curfew and sang in the street to all who would listen.

“’Twas Adair’s idea,” Tor said. “He’d said if we were to be caught walking from the tavern to the inn, ’twould be as easy to entertain those already in their homes for the eve as it would to go quietly. It had seemed a good idea then, though not as much as I think on it having drunk no ale.”

McGreghere shook his head. “He was the greatest of men.”

Would the pang in his chest ever go away when he spoke of his brother? “Aye,” Tor agreed, “none would argue such a claim.”