Page 34 of Tempting the Highland Devil
Yvaine closed her eyes for a second and re-opened them to find Arran staring at her intently. “Why do ye do that?”
“What?” It was Yvaine’s turn to frown, and she released the reins when he took them from her and tied the horse in place.
“Why do ye defend me? I dinnae need ye to make excuses for me, Yvaine. It is nay yer duty to look out for me. It is mine to look out for ye.”
Yvaine paused for a moment as his words settled in. “I dinnae understand what ye mean…”
“Ye do it all the time. Ye pretend like ye dinnae ken it. Ye lie for me when I lose my mind and attack an innocent laird, ye apologize when ye have done naythin’ wrong, and ye make it difficult…so difficult for me to just…”
Arran trailed off like he had just realized he was yelling at her. Yvaine hugged herself tight as the onslaught of chills wracked through her senses again.
“Just what?” she queried, eyeing him intently. “Ignore me? Act as if I dinnae mean anythin’ to ye? Or make me feel like the worse person in the world for wantin’ and believin’ that ye do have feelin’s for me even though ye are too scared to show them?”
“I am nay scared of anythin’,” he denied and backed away from her. “I have fought through wars, Yvaine. I have seen the worse that there is. My feelin’s, whatever they may be, dinnae scare me!”
“All right then. Kiss me,” she challenged.
Arran paled. His jaw dropped for a bit, and she stepped towards him. “At the ceremony, ye couldnae look me in the eye. Ye kissed me passionately before Arran; why could ye nay do it at the ceremony?”
“Yvaine—”
“Kiss me,” she insisted, reaching for his hand even as he backed away from her. She repeated the words again, her heart in her mouth. Yvaine felt the weight of her own desire clash with every other thought in her.
Arran dropped his eyes from her, and Yvaine’s courage faltered as she stared at his pale face. “Am I that terrible that ye cannae allow yerself look at me?”
Her voice shook with her words, and an ache nipped at the deepest corners of her heart. Yvaine lowered her chin and shook back the bitter tears that threatened to spill.
Yvaine turned away from him but did not make it far before he closed the distance between them, seized her wrist, and pulled her against his body.
“Ye arenae terrible, Yvaine. I am,” he softly uttered before he claimed her lips for a ferocious kiss.
His tongue swept over her lips, and she sighed and clung to him. Arran moved his hands to her waist and lifted her off the ground with ease. Yvaine could only hold onto him for balance as he ravished her lips with his kiss.
She moved her fingers into his hair, toyed with his silky strands, and marveled in the strength of his arms. Their lips clung together explosively, and she was lost in the wave of passionate torrents that stole her senses and breath away.
Arran did not know what he did to her… how much she longed to melt in his arms, giving herself to the bliss she knew his touch would offer.
They were lost in the thick blanket of desire, wrapping and pulling them away from reality for a long time. Neither of them heard the rustling of the leaves around them till the first sharp shriek erupted in the sky and tore through their yearning embrace.
Arran recovered quicker than Yvaine when he pulled away from her. Her mind stayed dazed as he shielded her with his body and drew his sword. Yvaine only realized they were surrounded when Arran handed her a dirk and yelled. “Find a corner and hide!”
He leapt into battle with more agility than she had ever seen. Whoever their attackers were, Arran did not care as he swept his sword over every man in his path and fought to protect her—his wife.
18
He saw Yvaine kick one of their attackers in the groin then stab him with the dirk in her hand. She struggled when another grabbed her and began dragging her into the thick shrubs surrounding the clearing where they stood.
The night surrounded them with thick darkness. There was a moon in the sky but nothing else brightening their path. When Arran heard her shriek, he nearly lost his mind.
He ran towards her and kicked the man holding her. Yvaine was in his arms a second later, and he hugged her tight, pressing her head to the crook of his neck before he kissed the base of her neck.
Arran saw red for the remaining few minutes till he defeated all their attackers then dragged the only survivor to a tree and pinned him there with his hand. “Who sent ye?” he hollered, raging with the sheer force of his anger. “Tell me who sent ye here, or I will end ye.”
“Arran,” Yvaine whimpered from behind him as he began choking the man. “Arran, ye are hurtin’ him,” she cried out and moved towards him.
“Stay back!” He tightened his grip on his attacker, determined not to show mercy till he found out who sent them here. This path to MacGregor was usually the safest, and years had passed since MacLennan faced a crisis or attack from anyone. Duncan had managed to rule his clan with an iron fist and also win their hearts at the same time.
He was a good laird and man in every sense. Arran’s only strength was his ability to make sure those around him stayed safe—Yvaine especially.
