Page 36 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
Because ye’ve already claimed me in heart and spirit.
The thought shocked her. She could not say that. She would not reveal such a weakness, but she would not outright lie. “I’m waging a battle,” she replied, running her hands over his chest and low to his abdomen. His muscles twitched under her touch, and he groaned.
His hands moved from her neck to round over her shoulders, then took a sinful path to her breasts, which he grazed first with his palms and then his fingers. The same heavy ache as before filled her, and the tight, pulsing need deep at her core sprang forth just as the night he had touched her after they were wed. “A war, ye say?” he asked in a husky growl.
She had trouble pulling her thoughts from the sensations his fingers sparked as they swept back and forth over her buds. When he lightly pinched her sensitive nipples, she gasped and leaned toward him. “Aye,” she said, her voice breaking with her rapidly mounting yearning.
“Have ye nae heard I’m a legendary warrior?” he asked, capturing her mouth in a burning, ravenous kiss before she could answer.
He swept his tongue into her mouth like a man bent on victory. In this, she would gladly surrender. She met his kiss with her own wild need, gliding her hands down between them and tentatively touching his hardness. She’d never done such a thing, but when he growled and his kiss became harder and faster, she felt quite certain he wanted more of her touch.
She traced her finger over the long line of his staff, which she could feel under the material of his braies. He broke away from her mouth, kissing a path down her neck and then sliding his tongue over her collarbone before his fingers worked with shocking expertise and quickness to relieve her of her gown and undergarments. When the last bit of her clothing fell away and the cool air chilled her skin, shyness suddenly hit her with the realization that she stood completely bare in front of him. She went to cross her arms over her chest, but he moved so quickly she’d not even realized he had, until he caught both of her wrists in a firm hold. Slowly, he opened her arms wide, his grip on her wrists tightening ever so slightly.
“Exquisite.” His voice was deep and rich as it washed over her. Her cheeks heated under his gaze, which moved over her like a caress before returning to her face. “Ye are so verra beautiful, Katreine,” he murmured. “Dunnae ever feel ye need to hide from me. Ye are so lovely on the outside it makes me ache, but ye are as lovely on the inside. And that, that beauty is the truest ever.”
“Oh, the lasses that must have tumbled at yer feet before me,” she said, feeling even more vulnerable because his words spoke to her heart and to the part of her that always had hoped to find love.
He placed his large palm over her heart as she had done to his earlier. “I have nae ever spoken words like the ones I just did to ye, lass. This I vow upon my honor.”
That vow nearly undid her. She wanted to fling herself into his arms. Instead, she said, “Shush now, Husband, and show me how a legendary warrior attempts to conquer a woman.”
He grinned then, looking very much like a fox who’d snagged his prey, and in the space of a breath, she was in his arms, and he’d carried her to the bed and carefully laid her upon it. He managed to rid himself of his braies as he came to hover above her, the bed creaking under his added weight. She caught her breath in anticipation of kissing him again, but he surprised her when he took her ankle and lifted her leg.
He traced his fingers over the slope of her calf before his lips followed the same path. Her blood rushed through her veins, fast and furious and deep within her. The need only he had ever stirred screamed to be sated. “Broch,” she said, as desperation to know the feeling of him inside her nipped at her patience.
He glanced at her and gave her a taunting smile. “Patience, my Valkyrie.”
Her eyes widened. Never had she told anyone that she fancied herself a descendant of the fierce women of old Viking legends.
He lowered her leg back to the bed, and even the soft blanket was almost painful on the flesh made so sensitive from his lips. Then his hands pressed between her thighs, and he spread them wide, making her blush once more.
“Perfection here, as well,” he rasped, the top of his head disappearing from her view as he kissed first her inner right thigh and then the left. Her core tightened, making her feel taut as a bow about to be released. “I want to taste ye.” He parted her at her core, shocking her, and before she could fully register what he’d done, his tongue slid slowly, tantalizingly across her flesh. The sensations that came next were so strong, so powerful, that she arched upward and let out a moan. She delved her hands into his hair to ensure he would not leave her just yet.
He chuckled, sounding surely just like the Devil when he knew a poor individual had lost the will to fight their desires. Broch’s tongue found the spot that throbbed, and he circled it, lavished it, and suckled it until she could not hold back the ecstasy that claimed her and melted her like steel to be molded in his strong hands.
As waves of pleasure rippled over her, Broch rose, slid his hands under her bottom, and thrust into her so powerfully that she was certain he had splintered her. A cry was on her lips, but he smothered it with a searing kiss. He began to move within her, and her body stretched to accommodate him as she grew used to him. Within a few heartbeats, the pain had disappeared. She could not think beyond the need to learn his rhythm and match him, and soon they were moving as one to a place she knew would be even better than moments ago.
The tension inside her began to build again, quickly like a storm that claimed the sky so suddenly one had no time to take shelter. Broch was that storm, and he was battering down upon her soul, claiming it and making her his. She clung to his powerful arms as the tide of ecstasy lifted her up and tossed her about. And then, as she fell toward luxurious oblivion, Broch cried out, tensed, and joined her in the freefall to utter bliss.
When they both began to catch their breath, he rolled off her, but his fingers caught hers, threading them together. She turned her head to steal a glance at his profile but found him staring at her as if committing her to memory. A new ache sprang up in her chest, and she suspected she knew what it was. She had fallen in love with her husband, and that was a weakness, to be certain, for the battle to come.
Fourteen
Broch could watch Katreine sleep for hours. In rest, the lines of determination that had been ever-present between her brows since accompanying him to the Blackswell keep would smooth. She looked so peaceful. She took long, deep, slow breaths and had a smile upon her face, which he liked to think he had something to do with. Every once in a while, she would murmur something, and he wondered if her dreaming mind was going over her strategy to persuade him to leave Hightower. His instinct had kept him alive in more battles than he could even recall, and he had no doubt that was what she was planning to do. She had the mind of a fighter, his lass.
At first, he had been confused when he entered the bedchamber and she did not immediately start to argue about Brodee. But then when she’d begun her seduction he’d known. He was pleased she’d not lied about it, and he was impressed with the clever way she had avoided doing so. She had said simply that she was waging a battle without admitting anything specific. Whether she intended it as a hint on how to prepare or not, he couldn’t be sure.
As she slept, he pondered what she might be plotting. In her mind, she was in danger and they were living among liars and murderers. He frowned. Unfortunately, she was not entirely wrong on the murderer account. Someone had pushed her, and someone had killed Brodee’s leman and Katreine’s sister years before. Who and why were the questions he needed answered, and it would be far easier to focus on discovering the truth with Katreine returned to the safety of her own home. As much as he hated the thought of parting with her, until he knew who was trying to kill his wife, it was best to take her where she would be well away from danger.
And yet, as much as he knew she wanted to return to Thioram, he thought perhaps if he commanded it, she would resist, and if he forced it, she might do something impulsive and stubborn, such as leaving for Thioram on her own. And deep within him, in the part that understood his wife had a grip on his heart now, he hoped she would not wish to depart without him, that this night, with the act they had just shared, they had sealed their marriage vows in a way no man could ever destroy.
With that in mind, he decided that he would see what her plan of attack was and then revise his own to best her for her own good. Feeling content with his choice, he turned onto his side to get a better view of Katreine as she slept. Moonlight streamed through the window, making her look like an angel. His angel, whom he’d die to protect.
Long ago he’d given up believing he would ever truly feel like part of a family, and now here he was, lying beside his wife in his father’s castle. It almost scared him that all he had ever wanted was here before him. He could not allow himself to be content and relaxed—not yet. That’s when the enemy always struck.
“Ye’re wrong about Brodee,” the muleheaded man said once again, just as he had for the last hour. They’d been arguing since waking, much to Katreine’s frustration, and the desire to shake sense into her husband nearly overwhelmed her. But it would do no good to even try. For one thing, he was much larger and stronger than she was, and for another, it was clear his mind was made up and was as unchangeable as the surety that moments slipped through one’s fingers no matter how tight one held them.
“Fine,” she said, not relenting but trying a different approach. “Let me prove to ye that ye are wrong. Let us seek the truth together.”
