Page 66 of Promised to the Cursed Laird

Her hands slipped lower, finding the laces of his breeches. She worked them open with slow, deliberate tugs, each one loosening another inch until the fabric gaped. When her fingers brushed the hot, bare skin of his cock, he groaned into her neck.

She wrapped her hand around him, not stroking yet, simply holding, feeling the weight and the pulse of him. He was thick, the head already slick at the tip, and she ran her thumb through that bead of wetness, spreading it in a slow circle.

He trembled. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, breath coming faster now, but he kept his own touch gentle. One hand cupped her breast fully, thumb circling the stiff peak through her dress and she whimpered from the pleasure.

The other hand slid down her back, over the curve of her ass, fingers pressing just enough to draw her hips forward again, letting her feel every inch of him against her.

She released him only long enough to tug her own laces free. The front of her dress loosened. She guided his hand inside, and when his palm met bare skin, they both stilled for a moment, savoring the contact. His fingers traced the underside of her breast, then higher, until he could roll her nipple between thumb and forefinger, gentle, rhythmic, matching the slow beat of her heart.

Neilina's head tipped back. She let the sensation wash through her, let it settle low in her belly where heat gathered and pulsed. Her hand found him again, and this time she stroked, slow and measured, base to tip, feeling him thicken further in her grip. A drop of his arousal slid over her knuckles, and she used it to ease the glide, each pass of her fist smoother, wetter.

He kissed her again, deeper now, tongue sliding against hers in the same rhythm her hand kept on his cock. His fingers left her breast and traveled down her side to the folds of her skirts. He gathered the fabric slowly, giving her every chance to stop him, and lifted it until his hand could slip beneath. His fingers traced the bare skin of her thigh, moving higher until until they met the thatch of soft curls between her legs. He paused there, waiting. She answered by shifting her stance, parting her legs just enough to welcome him.

Two fingers slipped between her folds, finding her already slick. He traced her entrance, then higher, circling the swollen nub at the top with the same patient care he had shown everywhere else. Pleasure bloomed under his touch, slow and steady, and she rocked her hips into his hand, chasing the feeling without urgency.

They stayed like that for a while, mouths moving together, hands learning each other's bodies in unhurried strokes. Every breath, every small sound, every shift of weight brought them closer. When he finally eased one finger inside her, it was with exquisite slowness, giving her time to adjust before he curled his finger inside her and the place that made her thighs tremble.

She clenched around him, and he groaned into her mouth. Her hand on his cock tightened in answer, stroking faster now, matching the gentle thrust of his finger inside her. Their foreheads stayed pressed together, eyes half-lidded, their breaths mingling as pleasure built between them, layer by careful layer.

Outside, the wind moved through the trees. Inside, the only sounds were their breathing, the soft wet glide of skin on skin, and the occasional broken whisper of each other's names as the rhythm between them began to unravel.

Neilina's breath caught as pleasure crested sharply through her, her body tightening around his hand as the release stole what little remained of her composure.

Marcas held her tighter as the last of her restraint gave way, his own breathing breaking against her skin as he followed her moments later. For several seconds neither of them moved.

They simply clung to one another, trembling and breathless, as the intensity gradually ebbed into slow pants.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Neilina had been looking for Elspeth for the better part of the morning before she finally found her in the still-room.

She paused in the doorway. Elspeth stood at the long worktable with her sleeves neatly rolled, sorting dried herbs into small jars. The room smelled faintly of lavender and rosemary, and sunlight fell in a pale strip across the flagstones.

"Elspeth."

"My lady." Elspeth glanced up, and whatever she saw on Neilina's face made her set down the jar in her hands entirely. "Ye look different this morning."

"I feel different." Neilina came further into the room, and found, now that the moment had arrived, that she wanted to say it plainly, without dressing it in anything careful.

Elspeth's brows lifted, but she wiped her hands on her apron and came forward. Neilina stepped back into the corridor, then took her gently by the arm and led her a little farther along, towards the quiet corner beside the unused parlour.

Elspeth followed, curiosity showing on her face.

"Is something the matter, my lady?"

Neilina drew a breath.

"I've made my decision. About the marriage."

Elspeth went very still. "And?"

"I want tae marry him." The words came out steadier than she'd expected, with a certainty she hadn’t fully trusted until she'd heard them spoken aloud. "I mean tae write tae Fearchar myself, this time. Nae the careful letter Marcas and I drafted together, asking him tae trust me and wait. A new one. Telling him plainly that I've chosen this, that naebody's forced me tae it, and that I'll nae have him riding here under some misunderstanding tae rescue me from a life I actually want."

Elspeth's whole lit up with a delighted smile, though she caught herself a moment later, studying Neilina more carefully. "Ye're certain, my lady? Truly certain? This isnae the fright from the village talking, or the comfort of a strong arm after a bad day."

"I've asked myself the same thing a dozen times since last night." Neilina sat on the low stool near the hearth, turning it over one more time before she answered, because Elspeth's question deserved an honest answer rather than a quick one. "I'm frightened, if I'm honest with ye. Frightened of what it means tae choose something this large for myself, when every choice of consequence in my life has always been made by someone else. But that's precisely why I ken it's real, Elspeth. It's the first decision about my own future that's ever felt like it belonged tae me and naebody else. Nae Fearchar's caution. Nae Cailleach's cage. Nae even the Accord, though it started all of this. Only mine."

Elspeth crossed the room and pulled her up into an embrace that smelled of dried herbs and woodsmoke, warm and fierce, and held her there a long moment.