Page 74 of Promised to the Cursed Laird

"I didnae do it only for the sake of avoiding a war," he said quietly. "I did it because he's yer brother, and whatever's passed between the two of ye, he's spent yer whole life trying, however clumsily, tae keep ye safe. I couldnae in good conscience meet that with a blade when a conversation might do better."

She looked up at him, at the soft seriousness that had settled over his face and felt her chest go tight with something far larger than simple relief.

He was quiet a moment, and she watched him gather himself, the same careful, deliberate stillness he'd worn on the overlook the night he'd first told her plainly that he wanted her.

"I'm done hiding it," he said finally, low. "I've circled this long enough, Neilina, telling myself I'd say it properly when the moment was right, when there was less danger pressing at us, when I'd earned the saying of it somehow. I dinnae think there's ever going tae be a moment free of danger, nae with Cailleach still out there, and I'm done waiting for one."

He reached for her hand, holding it between both of his own, and she felt the faint, betraying tremor in his grip despite the size and strength of him, a man who could face down an archer's arrow without flinching, undone entirely by three words he hadn't yet said. "I love ye. Nae the Accord. Nae the alliance, nae the politics of it, none of the reasons that brought us tae each other in the first place. Ye, Neilina Chisholm. All of ye, the woman who climbed out two windows in a single day, taught a paddock full of children tae sit a proper seat, and stood between me and her own brother's sword without so much as a flinch."

"I love ye," he whispered, the admission raw and stripped of all pretense. "God help me, I love ye more than my own life, and I canna spend another hour pretending that I don't."

She felt the tears come properly now, unstoppable, and didn't try to hide them, because there was nothing in this man's face that asked her to be anything other than what she was in this moment. She was undone, entirely, by unguarded truth of what he'd just given her.

"I love ye too," she said, and heard her own voice break on it, and didn't care. "I've loved ye longer than I've been willing tae admit even tae myself, if I'm honest. Somewhere between a postern gate and a supper tray in Struan, I stopped hating ye and started wanting ye instead, and I've been half-terrified of that ever since, because I didnae ken what tae do with wanting something I thought I wasnae allowed tae choose for myself."

"Ye can choose," he said, his voice rough, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw tenderly. "Ye can choose your own life, Neilina, as loudly and freely as ye like. I'll spend the rest of my life making certain of it."

She laughed, unsteady, wiping at her own eyes with the back of one hand. "Ye're verra good at saying the right thing, MacKinnon."

"I've had considerable practice failing tae say it," he said, a ghost of his wickedness returning to soften the moment, "which I'm told gives a man rather sharp motivation tae get it right once he finally manages it."

She reached up, resting her palm against his jaw the way she had done before, in this very room, when he'd first told her the whole truth of his mother, and felt him lean into the touch the same way he had then, some enormous, careful part of him settling entirely at the simple fact of her hand against his skin.

"Kiss me," she said, softer now, "and I'll forgive ye every clumsy day it took ye tae say it."

He didn't need telling twice.

He pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her with a protective, desperate strength. This kiss was slow and deep, his tongue sliding into her mouth as her hands moved over his broad back and into his hair. When he caught her lower lip between his teeth, she moaned against his mouth.

Slowly, the tenderness shifted, the air between them thickening with a different kind of heat. Marcas pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his chest heaving beneath his linen shirt, his eyes dark and predatory yet brimming with a vulnerability that made her heart ache.

He began to undo the laces of her bodice, his fingers steady but slow, as if he wanted to savor every agonising second. Neilina watched his face as he loosened the fabric, the hunger in his expression deepening as more of her was revealed

As the fabric fell away, the cool air of the room hit her exposed breasts, but she only felt the warmth of him. He groaned, a low sound that vibrated in his throat. He lowered her onto the furs of the bed, his body following hers, pinning her down with a heavy, welcoming weight.

He didn't rush. He spent an eternity kissing her neck, the slope of her shoulder. His mouth moved from the hollow of her throat to the peaks of her breasts, sucking the nipples into his mouth until she arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved lower, his tongue tracing the line of her stomach, his breath hitching as he reached the damp heat between her thighs.

When his hand slid between her thighs, finding her already slick and aching for him, Neilina let out a broken sound. He pulled away long enough to strip off his shirt and breeches. Neilina’s breath caught when he came back to her, her eyes dropping instinctively between them. He took her hand and guided her to hold him and when she did, he sucked in a breath and he settled between her legs.

When he finally entered her, he did so with a slow, agonizing push that filled her completely. Neilina gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the whole of him stretching her open. Marcas paused, his muscles locking, his forehead resting against hers. He looked at her with an intensity that felt like it was peeling back her skin.

"Look at me, Neilina," he commanded softly.

As she opened her eyes, he began to move. It started as a slow, rhythmic grind, each thrust calculated to hit the most sensitive spot deep inside her. . He watched her face, gauging every gasp, every arch of her back, adjusting his pace to drive her closer to the edge.

"Marcas..." she whimpered, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The pleasure was building, a coil tightening deep in her belly, so intense that it felt almost like pain and she felt like she might break. She tried to tell him how much she needed him to move faster, to give her more, but the words failed her.

"I... I... I cannae..." she stuttered, her voice breaking as her head tossed back against the furs. "I cannae... it's too much..."

He didn't stop, but he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a dark, soothing velvet. "Just feel it, Neilina. Give it all tae me."

“More,” she managed. “Marcas, please. Harder.”

Marcas let out a guttural growl, and he gripped her hips and turned her over with a sudden, powerful movement.

Now on her hands and knees, Neilina felt the cool air hit her back for a split second before he entered her again back into her from behind. He hit her deeper than before, the new angle sending a sharper rush of pleasure through her.

He reached around, one hand gripping her hair to tilt her head back, the other hand squeezing her breast, his thumb rubbing her nipple relentlessly.