Page 34 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

She was certain Bairre was watching them both as they strode off.

Still completely disregarding Arran’s presence she opened the door of her chamber and stepped inside, leaving it ajar by a few inches. Seconds later he burst through the door, fury flashing in his eyes. He strode across the room and took a seat in one of the chairs by the fireplace, his head in his hands. “I cannae speak,” he ground out.

Dahlia stood by, unsure of what to say. He’d been cruelly humiliated by Bairre and she understood some of the torment he must have undergone.

“What is it? What have I done? Ye cannae blame me fer the situation I was in. It was none of me doing. Ye ken I cannae stand the laird.”

He slowly rose to his feet. “Dahlia, ye dinnae ken the torture it was fer me tae spend the evening watching that swine lay his hands on ye, even daring tae kiss ye. It took all of me will tae stop me from taking him and strangling him with me bare hands.

I cannae continue like this. Me mind is filled with thoughts of taking ye in me arms and kissing ye the way ye should be kissed. Long and hard. I want tae feel ye close tae me. I want tae breathe in naught but ye sweet smell of roses.”

He scrabbled his long fingers through his blonde mane, looking at her with despairing eyes.

“I swear I’m bewitched; I’m so sorely tempted by ye Dahlia MacLeod, there are times when I’m near ready tae sacrifice me maither just so I can hold ye again. Yet I ken that wee bastard Bairre will kill us all if he should discover us.”

“It is how I feel too, Arran. I cannae sleep fer thinking thoughts of ye beside me and our kisses. Me body aches fer ye tae hold me again.” Tears sprang into her eyes.

He groaned. “Enough. ‘Tis more than me blood can stand. I must leave ye, fer if I remain here, I’ll nae last beyond the count of ten before I take ye again.”

She laughed softly moving toward him so that she was close enough to feel his breath on her cheek. “Is that so? I’m counting down, one, two, three, four…”

He groaned again as his arms enfolded her in a tight grip. “I’ve nay strength tae fight ye.”

“Well kiss me then, Arran Mackinnon.”

They were in each other’s’ arms faster than a blink. Dahlia turned her face up, eager for his lips. He moaned softly in her mouth as they devoured each other with their kiss. She was oblivious to the world, their passion taking them higher than she had ever imagined could be possible.

She felt his hardness and writhed against him, aching, wanting, seeking something she didn’t understand. There was only a driving need to be held in his arms, to feel the pounding of his heart against hers and to stay there forever.

They were jolted apart by a sudden tapping on the door.

“Who is it?” Dahlia called, quickly putting up a hand to tidy her hair. Could it be Bairre? So far, he had not intruded into the privacy of her rooms so she prayed it was someone else at the door.

“’Tis Beattie, melady. I’ve come tae fold back yer bed and set out yer clothing fer the morning.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief, Dahlia made her way across the room while Arran turned his back, staring into the fire. She flung open the door and the little maid entered, bobbing a curtsey.

“I’ll be on me way now melady,” he said, keeping his voice terse.

“Thank ye, Arran. I appreciate ye escorting me from the laird’s solar.” She could only hope Beattie was not in the pay of Bairreand that Arran’s presence in her room would not come t the attention of the laird.

“Aye. I’ll be guarding yer door this night, after I’ve been tae me chamber and changed me clothing.”

“I will see ye early in the morning ready fer our ride.”

“Our ride?” He looked puzzled.

“Aye. We’re tae ride out in the morning, the laird has agreed.”

He grunted and nodded his assent then marched from the room.

Despite being held a prisoner in her room there was consolation in her awareness of Arran during the night, guarding her door.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Would ye care tae break yer fast with me in me solar before we set out on our ride?”

At the sound of Dahlia’s voice Arran stirred sleepily and hastened to his feet. He’d hardly slept during the night. As a soldier he was used to sleeping in harsh places and, normally, the cold, stone floor outside Dahlia’s bedchamber would not have kept him awake.

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