Page 78 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
Her hands gripped the back of his léine as he ravaged her mouth, pushing one knee between her legs as she shuddered and sighed beneath him. His hands ran over her back and along her thighs, lifting one leg as he thrust forward.
He groaned at the exquisite friction; the layers of her gown so thin he could almost have pushed home inside her.
At that thought, he softened the kiss, lowering her leg back to the floor and pulling away. They stared at one another for a long, endless second.
Adam felt his control slipping, but this was goodbye. It had to be.
I cannae keep her with me all night, nay matter how much I am tempted to.
“Goodnight, lass,” he said hoarsely as she let him go, removing his jacket and returning it to him.
“Goodnight, M’Laird,” she whispered, and in the next instant, she was gone.
Adam stood in the corridor, watching the door she had left through for many minutes.
As he listened to the silence around him, the torch behind him guttered out, and he was plunged into darkness. He did not mind it. It would be easier to remain in the shadows than face what was coming in the light.
27
“Ye look beautiful.”
Freya tweaked the hem of Emily’s gown as Olivia made the final touches to her hair.
Emily admired the result. Her maid had brought dried Highland thistles that morning, arranging Emily’s hair into an intricate style and placing the thistles inside it at intervals.
Amongst the thistles, tiny beads on short pins had been placed. Her hair sparkled whenever she moved.
Emily had wanted to protest that she needn’t go to so much trouble—that it wasn’t a real wedding—but she had never felt so beautiful before. The dark red dress complimented her pale skin, and when she looked at her reflection, she saw a lady—a woman unlike herself.
“What is it?” Freya asked suddenly.
Emily’s thoughts had turned to her father and brother again, and it must have shown on her face.
“I miss me family,” she said quietly. “I always wished me maither would be at me weddin’ day. It will be strange to walk down the aisle and nae have me braither and faither there with me.” Her eyes filled with tears against her will, and she tried to hold them back.
“I found it!”
They both looked up as Lady MacNiall entered the room, holding a short tartan sash in one hand.
“I kenned I had it somewhere. This fastens to the bodice of yer dress—” She stopped. “Och, Emily, what is the matter?”
Emily shook her head. “Nothin’, I am alright. I was just speakin’ about me maither.”
Lady MacNiall looked her over with an assessing eye. “Ye look very bonnie,” she said gently. “She’d be proud, I have nay doubt.”
Emily smiled. “Where does it attach?” she asked, grateful for the distraction.
Lady MacNiall held up the sash, turning it around to look for the fastenings, and approached her. The tartan was made of navy blue with bands of yellow and white—MacNiall colors.
“There used to be some buttons on the bodice… ah, here we are.”
She began fiddling with a tiny tag at Emily’s waist. It turned out to be a small pearl button that hooked into the short sash. It was then twisted up across the bodice and fastened at the shoulder to fall down her back.
When Emily stood back, she loved the look of it and smiled up at Lady MacNiall.
Lady MacNiall was pensive for some time, then removed the brooch she wore on her shoulder and placed it on Emily’s instead.
Emily watched her without comment, but Freya looked quite astonished by her mother’s behavior.
