Page 67 of Highlander’s Hope

He took a fresh cloth and wrapped it around her upper arm and shoulder tightly. As his fingers brushed against her skin, he tightened his jaw. He was right. Smoother than silk. Warm and delicate. He ached to taste her.

“Done,” he rasped as he tightened the last knots.

He better go, or he’d want to touch her again. He took the edge of her tunic and pulled it up to cover her shoulder. She eyed him from under her eyelashes, her eyes golden-green, dark, and sparkling. His fingers lingered on her flesh. The touch melted their skins together and stole all air from Konnor’s lungs.

“Marjorie, I should go before…”

“Dinna go.”

Jesus Christ. He wanted to throw himself on her then. Instead, he closed his eyes, gathering all the self-restraint left in his body, and breathed. He looked at her again. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her lips were parted and red.

“The trouble with that is I want you,” he said. “I want you so much, but we can stop at any time…”

She looked at his mouth. “I dinna want ye to stop.”

* * *

Marjorie licked her lips. The hunger in his voice left her speechless. All she could hear was the violent thundering of her heart. Her palm burned where it still pressed against Konnor’s big, warm hand. He sat so close to her, a massive wall of a man. His mere presence flamed her cheeks with heat and made tremors run through her hands.

She’d just been through the most transformative moment of her life. If he hadn’t been here, none of that would have happened. They would have waited until the MacDougalls attacked. The siege would have likely been successful. She would never have beaten John MacDougall.

She would never have found her strength.

She was a new woman. Nae, not a new woman. She’d found the inner strength that had always been there—just forgotten, lost, and abandoned.

And this Marjorie, the battle-clad Marjorie with wounds and cuts and scratches, she wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted. And what she wanted was Konnor. Before, she’d never thought she’d lie with a man. Now, she didn’t want to lie with anyone but him.

“Marjorie…” he said.

She shifted to sit closer, and their knees touched and brought more heat into her body. “Heal me with your touch,” she whispered, suddenly feeling a tear roll down her cheek. She cupped his jaw, the small beard soft against her palm. “Wash the dirt of his hands and body away with your hands.”

His lips tightened with hurt. “Me? I’m not—”

She laid one finger on his lips. “Not a word more. Ye are nothing like yer stepfather. Ye are the opposite of him.”

And before he could say anything else, or change his mind, she shifted forward and put her legs around his hips, straddling him. She kissed him, and the touch of their lips sent a delicious wave through her, impairing her thoughts.

She wound her arms around his shoulders, and he wrapped his around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His teeth nibbled and his lips caressed, impossibly tender, his tongue swiping and gliding. The heat in her body rose, incinerating her.

“Are you absolutely—”

“Silence,” she interrupted him and resumed the kiss.

He made a low sound at the back of his throat and tightened his arms around her. He ran his hands up and down her back, warm and pleasant. His scent was in her mouth—the succulent, manly scent of him that made her sag.

She ground herself against him, feeling drunk and disoriented. Hers clothes were tight and wrong on her, and she ached to feel his warm skin against her, to have his weight on top of her.

She pulled up the ends of his short tunic and raised them over his head. Jesu, Mary, and Joseph… Did the ground just move, and the bed shift with it? Marjorie ran her fingers up along the tight muscles on his stomach and up his chest. He was as hard as iron and as hot as a furnace. And she felt the safest she’d ever been in her life.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I can stare at you all day long.”

“Then see me whole.”

Was she seriously going to do this? With her heart thumping, she pulled the edges of her undertunic up and over her head. As her breasts became free, they brushed against Konnor’s chest, and her nipples hardened from the pleasure that spread through her.

Konnor looked down and gave a low, animal growl. “What are you doing to me?”

He kissed her again, hungrier this time, his lips brushing against her with need. He lay back on the bed and pulled her with him so that she lay on top of him. He cupped her breast and massaged it, playing with her nipple. An acute bolt of pleasure shot through her, and she whimpered like a kitten.