Page 49 of Here in Your Arms
Tiernan MacRae sat atop his destrier, towering even higher than usual from his vantage point on the horse. His blue eyes burned, a storm gathering in them as he took in the sight before him—her, standing in the middle of the field, a bow in her hands, Niall’s arms loosely around her as he guided her stance.
Tiernan’s jaw clenched as he slid easily from the saddle, his gaze locking onto the soldier with barely contained fury. “Step away from her.”
Niall immediately released her and took a step back, all the blood draining from his face.
“He’s teaching me to—” Rose tried to defend the young man.
Tiernan’s glare snapped to her, disbelief and something far darker flashing across his face. “Ye’ve nae place here.”
She frowned. “I only wanted to—”
He grabbed her by the arm—not cruelly, but with firm, undeniable force. “Enough,” he snapped, already dragging her away from the group of practicing archers. “Ye’ll nae make a spectacle of yerself.”
Rose dug her heels in, resisting. “I am not—let go of me!”
Tiernan didn’t even break stride, but walked her away from the silent, surely gape-jawed group of men.
“Tiernan—stop, damn it!” she seethed, twisting against his grip as he marched her up the rise, past the tree from which she’d watched the training moments ago, and down the other side of the hill.
His grip was unrelenting.
Rose’s responding frustration boiled over. “Stop manhandling me! You don’t get to decide what I do or don’t do! You don’t get to control me!”
Tiernan’s steps halted so abruptly, she nearly stumbled forward. His fingers tightened on her arm, but just for a breath, just for one lingering moment. When he turned to her, his expression was like ice—cold and cutting.
He exhaled, slow and sharp. “A woman’s place is nae on the training field.”
She bristled. “A woman’s place,” she bit out, furious now, “is wherever she damn well wants it to be.”
Tiernan’s gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Her scowl surely as dark as his now, she glared at him. “I’m not from this time,” she hissed. “We’ve evolved from all this—this bullshit, of men being lord and master. You may be just that over all of Druimlach and everyone here, but thatdoesn’tinclude me.” Again, she yanked at her hand, trying to free herself from his grip.
His blue eyes burned, his grip flexing around her wrist.
The tension crackled between them, suffocating, thick as smoke despite all the clean fresh air around them.
Rose’s pulse pounded.
He released her wrist—only to raise his hand higher, threading it roughly into her hair, pulling her forward as his mouth crashed down onto hers.
Rose gasped against his lips, startled by the violence of it—but too stunned, too breathless, too overcome to pull away. His kiss was rough, burning with the frustration that had been simmering between them from the start, unspoken and unspent until now. His lips moved against hers with bruising force, as though he could silence her rebellion with the press of his mouth, as though all his control had finally snapped.
He was too close, too warm, too solid. The heat of his body wrapped around her like a cloak, and for a breathless instant, she stopped fighting him. Her fingers clenched in the coarse wool of his tunic, clinging to him not out of desire—at least not at first—but from the sheer force of the moment, the helpless, dizzying rush of sensation.
She should have shoved him away. She should have screamed or slapped him—something!
Instead, she kissed him back.
His grip at her waist tightened, becoming possessive, she had enough wherewithal to think. The hand in her hair held her still, anchored her, like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go—or regain her sanity and resist after all. And in that strange, reckless instant, she didn’t feel afraid—not of him. She felt small in his arms, yes, dwarfed by his size and strength, but never more shielded. As though the storm in him had found its calm in her, if only for a fleeting moment. Even in the fierce press of his mouth, there was no cruelty, no threat. It was overwhelming, breath-stealing, dizzying in its intensity... and yet, inexplicably, she felt safe.
He made a low sound in the back of his throat—something between a growl and a groan—and kissed her harder, pulling her closer as though trying to erase all the space between them.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it ended.
Tiernan wrenched himself away with a sharp exhale, leaving Rose swaying in place, chest heaving. His eyes blazed, wild and furious, like a man who'd lost control—and blamed her for it. His breathing was ragged. His jaw flexed.
Rose could only stare, stunned, shaken, her lips tingling, her thoughts a blur.
