Page 51 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Lying like this, in the afterglow, was another pleasant surprise. She hadn’t realized how intimate it would be to just lie with another person, especially after sharing pleasure.
His strong hands cradled her against him, and she never wanted to leave his protective embrace.
“We should get back to the cèilidh,” Magnus muttered.
The sound vibrated through his chest, and she felt the rumbling beneath her ear.
Ciara hummed in agreement but made no move to dislodge herself from his broad chest. Despite his hard muscles, he made for a surprisingly comfortable pillow, and she had no desire to extricate herself from his warmth.
“Soon,” she mumbled, wanting to savor this moment for just a little longer.
Once out of his arms, she would have doubts, or at least more nerves than she felt now, and she didn’t want to have those thoughts just yet.
Magnus laughed but did not move either. He simply continued stroking the long strands of hair that fell down her back. He’d been gently untangling them while she lay on his chest. His hands had been the ones to make a mess of them in the first place.
Minutes later, when his hands stilled, Ciara sighed and slowly began to push herself off his chest. She met the slightest bit of resistance, before he too sighed and let her up.
“I suppose I did say we need to get back,” he lamented.
Ciara laughed. “Aye, but it’ll be over soon… and then I’ll see ye again tonight?” she asked, still a bit shy even after what they had done.
“Aye,” Magnus promised. “I wouldnae miss a night in yer bed. There are… so many things I’d like to do to ye,” he added as his eyes roamed over every inch of her.
She smiled back, her insides already heating with the promise in his voice.
Tonight.
But first they needed to return to the Great Hall and hope that maybe no one noticed they were gone. Even as she thought it, Ciara realized what an impossibility that was.
“How does me hair look?” she asked as she tried to smooth everything out—her dress, her hair, everything that Magnus had mussed up.
“Perfect,” he reassured her, but she leveled him with a disbelieving look.
His laugh, which was already becoming one of her favorite sounds, filled the room again.
“It’s better than it was before I untangled it, lass, but it’s nae braided anymore, so I dinnae think ye are goin’ to fool anyone,” he admitted.
Ciara groaned. “Wonderful.”
“Come on.”
With an outstretched hand, he led her back to the Great Hall, where the music and dancing had continued on in their absence.
Not every person turned to look at them when they walked back into the room, but only because a handful of guests looked like they had gone a little too heavy on the whiskey and wouldn’t have looked for anything.
Ciara’s cheeks turned red as she met knowing smiles and raised eyebrows. She pointedly avoided looking at her family. Seeing her mother or father right now might very well send her running back out of the room in embarrassment.
She snuck a quick glance at Magnus, who was still standing by her side, and he could not look more smug if he tried. There was not a hint of embarrassment on his face. Ciara elbowed him lightly in the stomach.
“Aye, what?” he muttered, clutching at his side and feigning injury.
When she responded with only an eye roll and a chastising glance, Magnus laughed. Once again, they had the room’s attention. This time, everyone was drawn in by the unfamiliar sound of their Laird’s laughter. He ignored them all and guided Ciara to their table, with a warm hand on the small of her back.
“They all ken what we’ve been doin’,” she huffed.
“Good. I want them to ken exactly how good I make me wife feel,” he whispered in her ear.
His proximity, his voice, and his words sent a shiver through her that she tried to contain, but of course, she couldn’t hide it from his watchful gaze.
