Page 105 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
Her husband stared at her with frank appraisal, and she braced herself for his judgment.
But she no longer cared. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Even her scar she now wore with pride, the mark of her survival—and her mother’s survival—against men who thought women were possessions to be used, exploited, then tossed aside.
I’m finally free—free from the burden of honor and duty.
James met her gaze, and, for the first time, she saw admiration in his eyes.
“Come out of the water, lass,” Murdo said. “Where are yer clothes?”
Her nipples pebbled in the air, and she fought the little pulse of need ignited by the fire in his eyes. Then he shifted his gaze to the scar on her arm and his eyes darkened.
“I’m not ashamed of my body,” she said, touching her scar, “or ofthis. Nor am I ashamed of who I am. Neither should your brother be ashamed of who he is—or whom he loves.”
James shifted from one foot to another and lowered his gaze.
“Areyouashamed, husband?” Clara challenged.
Murdo’s gaze wandered over her body, and her blood warmed at the raw desire in his eyes.
Then he nodded.
“Aye,” he said. “Iamashamed—more than I’ve ever been in my life, and more than I ever hope to be again.”
He lifted his hands to his face. When he lowered them again, his eyes glistened with moisture.
“Oh, Clara…” he whispered. “There’s one thing of which I am most heartily ashamed, and I’ll carry that shame until I draw my last breath.”
He stepped toward her, then dropped to his knees and bowed his head.
“I’m ashamed ofmyself.”
He extended his hand, but she resisted the temptation to take it.
Despair flickered in his eyes, and he dipped forward and kissed the ground at her feet.
Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her stomach.
“Oh, my love, forgive me!” he said, his voice reverberating through her bones. “I’ve mourned the loss of the father I loved—but that man died years ago, replaced by a bitter soul. I know I’m not even worthy to kiss the ground before ye. But ye canteachme to be worthy, Clara. Teach me to be strong, and brave—to stand up for what’s right, no matter the consequence to myself. Teach me to be considerate, to be a man who has a chance of coming close to being worthy of ye.”
Clara placed her hand on his head and buried her fingers in his soft locks. He let out a sigh, his warm breath caressing the skin of her belly.
“I love ye, Clara. I want to spend the rest of my life showing ye how much.”
He kissed her thigh, and a pulse of need flared in her center. She squeezed her thighs together to temper the surge of moisture, suppressing her shame at the scent of her own desire.
Murdo inhaled, his nostrils flaring, and let out a low rumble of satisfaction.
“Ahem.”
Clara glanced up to see James, his face as red as fire.
“I ought to leave.”
“No, brother,” Murdo said, lifting his head. “Ye must witness this. I want ye to hear my declaration to the woman I love—my soul mate, my goddess. When we return to the castle, I want the whole clan to witness my declaration. I want to climb to the summit of Beinn Urraim and shout my love to the whole world.”
“I ken that, brother, but I’ve no wish to intrude on ye when ye’re begging yer wife’s forgiveness.”
“Why’s that?” Clara asked.
