Page 86 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
The words hit her like a tidal wave. “Ye… ye love me?”
“Aye.” The admission seemed to tear something loose in his chest. “God help me, I love ye, Rhona. I love yer fierce spirit and yer kind heart. I love the way ye stood up tae me Council and the way ye protect frightened bairns. I love that ye see past the Wallace name tae the man beneath.”
He loves me!
The knowledge sang through her veins like whisky, burning in the most delicious way, warming her from the inside out. “Ian–”
“So dinnae ye dare stand here and tell me I dinnae want ye,” he continued roughly. “This is the look of a man who’s fallen so hard fer a lass that he’d rather see her free than bound tae him against her will.”
Rhona reached up to cover his hands in hers, feeling the slight tremor in his fingers. “And what if I told ye that it wouldnae be against me will?”
His eyes searched her face desperately. “What are ye sayin’?”
“I’m sayin that I love ye too, ye stubborn, honorable fool!” the declaration spilled from her lips. “I love yer strength and yer gentleness. I love the way ye lead with yer heart instead of just yer head. I love that ye’d sacrifice yer happiness fer mine.”
“Are ye–”
“If ye were tae ask me again – truly ask me, nae because yer Council demands it, nae because the king’s comin’, but because ye, Ian, want me as yer wife – me answer would be yes.”
The change in Ian’s expression was like watching the sun break through darkened storm clouds. “D’ye mean it?”
“Aye.” She stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “From the depths of me soul.”
“Even kennin’ what it could cost ye? Yer freedom–”
“Me freedom?” she laughed softly. “Ian, I’ve never felt more free than I dae right now, standin’ here with ye, speaking the truth of me heart.”
Ian didn’t respond. Instead, he just stared at her for what felt like an eternity, something wild and desperate flaring in his green eyes. “Rhona, if ye keep lookin’ at me like that…”
“Like what?”
“Like ye want me as much as I want ye…”
“’Tis because I dae.” The admission left her breathless. “I want ye, Ian Wallace. All of ye.”
The last of his restraint snapped visibly and in an instant, Ian’s mouth crashed down upon hers with desperate hunger, kissing her like a man drowning. Rhona melted into him, her body coming alive under his touch in ways she’d never imagined possible.
“I need ye,” he whispered against her lips. “I need tae show ye how much I love ye.”
“Then show me,” she breathed.
But instead of rushing to undress her, Ian surprised her by stepping back, his eyes never leaving her face. “Nae here. Nae like this…” his voice was rough with desire, but tender. “Ye deserve better than a hurried couplin’.”
“Ian–”
“Trust me.” He took her hand, leading her to where the waterfall created a natural alcove behind the falling water. The space was hidden from view, carpeted with soft moss and warmed by the afternoon sun filtering through the soft mist from the waterfall.
There, with the sound of water creating a curtain of privacy around them, Ian turned to face her again. That time, when hereached for the laces of her dress, his movements were different – slower, more reverent, as if he were unwrapping the most precious gift.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he confessed as the wool slipped from her shoulders. “Of havin’ ye here, in this place.”
The cool mist from the waterfall kissed her bare skin, making her shiver – not from cold, but from the intensity of his gaze. When she stood before him in only her chemise, the thin fabric felt transparent from the moisture in the air, and Ian’s breath caught audibly.
“Ye look like a woodland sprite,” he murmured, reaching out to trace the line of her collarbone where droplets of water had gathered. “Like somethin’ from the old stories about the fae,”
His touch sent fire racing through her veins, and when he drew the chemise over her head, leaving her completely bare, she felt no shame – only a sense of rightness, of coming home.
“Now ye,” she whispered, her hands moving to the fastenings of his shirt.
