Page 52 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance

She was nervous as she should be.

He had come intending to scold her for disobeying him, for endangering herself. She had nearly been taken, nearly killed, because she’d chosen to disobey him and not return to the safety of the keep. If not for young Daniel…

His jaw tightened. The lad’s brave act had saved her life and that thought turned to another. How he felt when he saw that man’s arm around her neck. Her fragile neck. One wrong move and it could have ended. He could have lost her before he ever truly got to have her.

The memory of that fear hit him like a blade to the chest, cutting through his fury and pride and everything else he thought he was going to say.

The ache in his heart returned, sharp and unbearable.

He crossed the chamber in a heartbeat.

Esme barely had time to gasp before he reached her, his hand catching her waist and pulling her flush to him. She opened her mouth to speak, to explain, maybe to plead.

But he silenced her with his mouth. His lips found hers in a kiss that was not gentle, but not cruel either. It was fierce andraw, born of fear, relief, and something deeper neither of them dared to name.

And in that moment, Esme realized she no longer feared what he might say. What she feared… was how much this man—whoever he truly was—had come to mean to her.

He tore his mouth off hers. “You put fear in me, woman, when I see you in danger and I cannot have that.” He rested his brow to hers. “I cannot lose you. I will not lose you.”

His lips touched hers briefly, a faint brush, and then it was as if something broke, a barrier he had kept rooted in place that was never to be crossed.

He crossed it.

His intense kiss felt like he had claimed her, accepted her as his wife and she couldn’t help but feel at that moment that their hearts joined as one, locked together never to part. A strange sensation for sure since she believed Torrance didn’t have a heart. But was he Torrance?

His hand gripped her backside, giving it a squeeze and keeping her pressed firmly against him as he continued to kiss her. Urgent kisses. Gentle kisses. Possessive kisses. And with each kiss his manhood swelled against her.

Again, his lips left hers and he whispered harshly, “Bloody hell, I want you so badly.”

Esme wanted him just as badly, her body humming with passion and a relentless need. She could easily allow her desire to rule, and possibly her heart, but there was much more at stake here. She had to be cautious and ponder, with great difficulty, the consequences of her decision. If he was Torrance and she coupled with him she would finally have a chance to get with child. If it was Ryland she coupled with, she believed him to be an honorable man who would do right by her.

With that thought, her response came easier than she expected. “I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

He stared at her as if trying to make up his mind. He raised his hand and ran his fingers faintly over her lips, shook his head, and his arms dropped away from her, then he walked toward the door.

She felt a jab to her heart and anger rose in her as well. How often had he walked away from her, blamed her, made her feel a failure.

The words sprang from her mouth. “Do I disgust you that much that you refuse to plant your seed in me?”

“Watch your tongue with me, woman,” he warned with a growl, reaching the door.

She felt as if she was pushed over the edge, falling, and feared where she would land. With nothing to lose, she called out, “I am not at fault in this marriage. Your manhood is the culprit. Whether limp or hard your shaft is useless!”

He turned, a fierce rage glowing in his green eyes and it took only a few strides to reach her even though she backed away from him in fright.

“Let’s find out how useless it is,” he challenged and scooped her up to carry to the bed and drop her down on it.

Her unexpected courage began to fail her. She had been in a battle with Torrance since the day they wed, and she was exhausted from the fight. She wanted it done and over no matter the consequences and if he was Ryland, he would be the one who would need to explain. She spread her legs ready to do her duty.

Torrance dropped down over her, pushed his plaid out of the way and positioned himself between her legs, his shaft hard, its tip resting just a bit inside her when he looked into her eyes. Her strength was waning, her fear growing, and surrender uncertain.

He wasn’t looking for surrender.

“I’ll not have it like this,” he snapped.

Where she got the courage, she didn’t know but she swung her hips up so hard that it drove his shaft into her in one deep plunge. She cried out as pain radiated through her.

“Esme!” Torrance cried out, seeing her lovely face cringe in pain.

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