Page 88 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
He started to slowly move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back with deliberate slowness. The rhythm he set was slow at first, long, slow strokes. But as her sharp intake of breath subsided, her soft moans encouraged him and her hips began to rise to meet his thrusts, the pace gradually became more urgent as passion overtook them both.
“Aye, that’s it,” he praised her as she began to move with him. “Take all of me, Rhona.”
She moved with him instinctively, her legs wrapping around his waist as her body learned the most ancient of dances, each withdrawal leaving her aching for his return, each deep thrust sending sparks of pleasure pulsing through her core. The sound of their bodies joining filled the space around them – skin against skin, her breathless cries mixing with his deep groans of pleasure.”
“Och… ah!” she whispered, surprising herself with her boldness. “Please, Ian… I need ye…”
“I ken what ye need,” he growled, his thrusts becoming deeper, more powerful. The bed creaked beneath them in protest as he drove into her with increasing urgency, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside her that made stars explode behind her eyelids.
When release finally claimed them both, it was with a force that left them clinging to each other like survivors of a ferocious storm. Ian buried his face in the curve of her neck as he poured himself into her, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax. Her own cries of ecstasy were lost against his shoulder as her body convulsed around him, milking every last drop of his essence as they shattered together in perfect unity.
Afterward, they lay entwined on the moss, hearts gradually slowing, skin cooling in the misty air. Ian reached over and pulled his plaid over them both.
“I love ye,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “More than I thought possible.”
“And I ye.” She replied, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. “But Ian, I–”
“Aye?”
She took a shaky breath, steeling herself for what she had to say. “I can only marry ye if me family approves.”
Ian’s hand stilled in her hair. “What?”
“I ken it complicates things, but…” she lifted her head to look at him. “Me clan has suffered enough because of the Wallace name. I cannae add tae their pain by marryin’ without their consent.”
“Rhona–”
“They think me dead.” She continued urgently. “They’ve been mournin’ me fer months while I’ve been here, safe, and… and fallin’ in love with their enemy. They deserve tae ken the truth.”
Ian was quiet for a long moment, his expression troubled. “And if they refuse? If they forbid the marriage?”
“Then we’ll find another way.” She said firmly. “But I have tae try. I have tae give them the chance tae understand.”
“What are ye proposin’?”
“Let me send a letter. Tae me faither. Her voice grew stronger as the plan formed in her mind. “Let me explain what’s happened, how I feel about ye. Let me ask fer his blessin’.”
“That’s… incredibly dangerous,” Ian said slowly. “If yer letter falls intae the wrong hands, if word spreads about yer presence here before the king arrives…”
“I trust ye tae send it safely.” She cupped his face in her hands. “Please, Ian. I need tae dae this right. I need tae come tae ye freely, with me family’s support.”
Ian stared at her for a long moment, conflict warring in his green eyes. Finally, he nodded.
“Aye,” he said quietly. “We’ll send yer letter. And whatever they decide… we’ll face it taegether.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“D’ye really think it’s wise, ridin’ back so exposed like this?”
Rhona’s voice carried a note of unease as she glanced around the darkening tree-lined path, her hand instinctively moving closer to the small dagger at her belt. The afternoon sun slanted through the canopy above, creating patterns of light and shadow that could hide a dozen threats at once.
“We’re barely two miles from the castle,” Ian replied, though his own eyes were alert, scanning the forest around them.
Rhona urged her mare closer to Ian’s destrier, still feeling the lingering warmth of their intimate afternoon together, like a secret treasure hidden in her chest. The memory of his hands on her skin, the taste of his kisses, the way he’d fit so perfectly inside her – it all felt too precious to be real.
The same thought went around and around in her mind.
We’re goin’ tae sendtheletter, and everythin’ will work out. It has tae.
