Page 27 of Highlander of Steel
Och, lass…
He needed to have more of her. A taste wasn’t enough. He needed to lose himself in her so that he wouldn’t have to think of the outside world for a while.
She represented peace in more ways than one, and a single kiss was already sweeping all of his losses and troubles from his mind. What calm could he achieve if he led her back to her bedchamber and made her his? What glorious peace could be gained?
His hand smoothed over the swell of her backside as he dipped his head to kiss her neck. She melted in his arms, her head tilting back to give him access to that elegant curve of pale skin.
A soft moan escaped her, a sound so exquisite that it threatened to undo him completely.
Spurred on, his desire pounding in his veins, he grasped her generous backside and pressed her against him, so she could feel what she was doing to him. Letting her know how much he wanted her.
A louder gasp poured fuel on the fire of his need, his kisses hungry as they traced a path down her throat and across the soft skin of her bosom.
A moment later, his mouth sought hers again, kissing her with such fervor that hedoubted he would be able to stop. She kissed him back just as passionately, their ragged breaths echoing down the corridor, her stifled whimpers doing things to him that put him in more danger than any war.
What are ye doin’?
His discipline finally swooped into his mind, shouting into the briefly empty cavern of his skull.
What will she think, eh? She’ll think this is a trick, kissin’ her to get her to do what ye want. She’ll think ye mean to dishonor her.
The thought tipped an ocean’s worth of cold water onto the furnace of his desire.
Stealing one last kiss, he pulled back, breathing hard. “Apologies, lass,” he said, his voice husky. “I shouldnae have done that, lest ye mistake me intentions.”
Nae yet. Nae before we’re wed.
He released her, noting the painful confusion on her beautiful face, and stepped around her. She didn’t turn around as he left her there, catching her breath in the middle of the hallway.
10
There wasn’t enough whiskey in the world to quell the disappointment in Killian’s chest. The kiss itself hadn’t been disappointing—far from it—but he was disappointed in himself for losing control like that.
All those years of discipline, and it crumbled in an instant…
He gulped down another mouthful of the peaty, smoky amber liquid and hissed as it burned all the way into his stomach.
He wasn’t an heir in training anymore; he was the Laird of Clan MacNairn, and he had allowed Ailis to distract him, like he was nothing more than a youth who had no restraint.
“She must be in her chambers, cursin’ me name,” he muttered as he took another long sip of his whiskey.
It wasn’t how he had intended for the proposal to go. Of course, he had anticipated a discussion and uncertainty. But instead of reassuring her with a calm explanation and a stern command, he had gone and kissed her. Now, he doubted she would have faith in anything he said, believing him to be a trickster who was just using her.
But ye are, in a way. Would ye marry her if it wouldnae help yer cause?
He shook off the thought; it wasn’t relevant. He wouldn’t have met her under different circumstances, so he couldn’t dwell onwhat-ifs.Nevertheless, if hehadmet her somewhere else, in a different situation, he would still have thought her the most alluring lass he had ever encountered.
But right now, he couldn’t muddy the waters. There was too much at stake to inadvertently push Ailis to a point where she tried to escape, having decided her fate would be better at her family home than here.
He feared he had already nudged her toward that decision by kissing her just after she had accused him of being like her family, and he couldn’t risk doing that again. He couldn’t fail his father, his brother, or her by making a mistake.
I’m nae good at dealin’ with delicate matters, Faither. I daenae have the mind for it like ye did.
For the first time since he had buried his father—what felt like forever—Killian was struck by a fierce pang of loss. He hadn’tallowed himself to grieve or dwell on the bereavement, but at that moment, he wished his father were still alive, sitting in the study with him. His father would’ve known what to say to put his mind at ease.
“Bad day?” Peter’s cheery voice drew his attention away from the drink.
“Nae the best I’ve had,” Killian replied, gesturing to the decanter on the side table. “Help yerself and join me, as long as ye’re nae in a talkin’ mood.”
