She nodded, and with Lachlan’s aid and instruction, they swam for shore—not directly, as she’d attempted before, but diagonally with the current.
Soon she could see Rory and Lachlan’s men wading toward them and knew that she’d done it. She’d fought her fear and won. And though she felt ready to collapse, the feeling of accomplishment gave her an unexpected swell of strength that carried her through the last few strokes.
As soon as the water was shallow enough, Lachlan stood and cradled her in his arms, carrying her the rest of the way. She pressed her face against the familiar hard planes of his chest, savoring the simple sensation of being held in his arms again.
Rory rushed toward them. “Is she all right?” he asked Lachlan.
Flora could hear the worry in his voice and immediately moved to reassure him. “I’m fine.”
“Thank God.” He drew off his plaid, which was blissfully dry, and gave it to Lachlan to wrap her in, covering her near nakedness and providing much needed warmth.
“She’s freezing,” Lachlan said. “I need to get her to the castle as soon as possible. Have my room prepared.”
“Look here, Coll,” Rory said, blocking his path to the castle. “I thought we agreed. I’ll not have my sister forced into this marriage. It’s best if you put her in another room.”
Why, he’s trying to protect me, Flora realized. Warmed by the show of brotherly affection, especially after what she’d just been through, she gave Rory a grateful smile. One that Lachlan mistook.
His jaw flexed, and she could tell he wanted to argue, but instead he pushed past Rory and said through clenched teeth, “Any damn room, then.”
Flora hid a smile and thought about teasing him for a bit longer, but he was right—she was freezing. “I thank you for your concern, Rory,” she said to her brother, who’d kept pace with them. “But the laird’s bedchamber will be perfect.”
Lachlan stopped midstep and gazed down at her, hope glistening in his eyes.
“Are you sure, lass?” Rory asked.
But Flora couldn’t look away from Lachlan. The depth of his feeling for her had been splayed open to her gaze, revealing her heart’s desire. She would remember this moment forever. Remember how it felt to know without a doubt that she was loved—totally and completely. Despite what he’d done in manipulating their marriage, he’d been willing to give his life for hers.
“Aye,” she said softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Lachlan squeezed her tight and, not giving Rory the time to respond, carried her through the crowds of cheering clansmen. The Maclean of Coll had come home.
The door closed behind his serving woman Mairi, but despite her assurances, Lachlan still could not relax. He checked the fire, adjusted her pillow, and tucked another plaid around Flora.
He heard a muffled giggle and whipped around to look at the source. Crossing his arms across his chest, he narrowed his gaze in warning.
A warning the wee harridan promptly ignored. “You would make a horrible nursemaid with that forbidding frown. Stop fussing. You heard what Mairi said, I’m perfectly fine. As soon as I got that wet sark off me, I warmed right up.”
His gaze traveled down the length of her, heating at the thought of the naked body underneath. He frowned, realizing that’s exactly what she intended—the little minx. “Stop trying to distract me. It won’t work, you need your rest.”
Her eyes were bright with laughter. She lowered the plaid a bit, revealing a flawless swell of ivory skin. Her brow arched in naughty invitation. “It won’t?”
He sat beside her on the bed, pulled the blanket back up to her chin, and swept a stray lock of damp hair from her forehead. His palm lingered to cradle the baby soft skin of her cheek. “God, Flora, when I saw you jump—” His voice broke, and he turned his head slightly, shielding his burning eyes from her view. After a minute, he looked back at her. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again. I thought I would lose you.”
“But Hector was going to kill you,” she protested.
“Aye, but it was a choice I would gladly make.”
“But not one I could live with.” She hesitated. “What of Hector?”
“Alive, but taken. Argyll will hold him until his punishment is decided by the king.”
He could see the relief sweep her face and knew he’d made the right decision in sparing Hector’s foul life.
“I know he doesn’t deserve my compassion, but I’m glad he was not killed. Defeat and imprisonment is a much better punishment, one for which the pain will endure.”
He nodded. “If he’d delayed any longer, I would not have had a choice. I had to reach you.” He would never forget the sight of Flora disappearing beneath the waves. That same sense of panic gripped him. “If you ever do anything so foolish again, I will lock you in that tower. My heart stopped when you jumped into the water.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Then you know how I felt. I know what Hector intended. I couldn’t let you die for me.” She pressed a finger against his mouth to stave off his protest. “I was scared, but you made me believe that I could do it. You taught me the skills; I just had to be brave enough to use them.”
His gaze softened. “I’m proud of you, lass. But next time, save the swimming lessons for the loch.”
“Agreed.” Suddenly, the smile fell from her face and all signs of teasing fled. “I cannot believe my own brother could do something like that.”
“Hector has the moral compass of a snake. I should have warned you, but I didn’t think you would believe me.” He shook his head. “I never thought that he would try to harm you.”
“His hatred for you was stronger than his feelings for a sister he didn’t know. And I ran right into his trap. I never should have left like that.”
Lachlan’s face turned serious. “No, you shouldn’t have. You can’t run away every time you are scared or angry.”
Flora nodded, chastened. “I know. You accused me of having no concept of what it meant to be in charge and responsible.” He started to stop her, but she held him off. “There was more truth in that than I wanted to acknowledge. You were right—I couldn’t see past my own hurt to realize the difficulty you faced. You had an obligation to your clan and to your brother. But to me, duty equaled misery. I don’t have the family you do. I was raised not to blindly follow my duty. But I never understood that when you loved someone, you owed them…something. At the very least, I owed you an attempt to listen.”
He cupped her chin with his hand. “I need to trust that you will not run like that again.” He gave her a wry grin. “I might not always make decisions that you agree with.”
She smiled. “No, you probably won’t. I won’t promise not to be angry, but I will promise not to look for the first boat.”
He stroked the smooth curve of her cheek with his thumb. “You had reason to be angry. I handled it badly. I should have given you time; instead, I forced myself on you.” He met her gaze. “I deserved to be called a barbarian.”
She squeezed his hand. “I didn’t mean it, I wanted to hurt you. Actually, I was more frightened by my reaction.” Her cheeks heated. “I wanted to hate you, but my body wasn’t listening. I know you would never hurt me.”
“But I did,” he said quietly, referring not to the kiss, but to his bargain with Argyll. He knew it had struck at her most vulnerable place.
She lifted her gaze to his. But instead of anger, he saw the flicker of understanding beneath the hurt.
She sighed. “When I first realized what you and my cousin had planned, it seemed that my worst fears had come true. My mother’s life flashed before my eyes. All I could see was that I was being used as a pawn. I couldn’t separate your duty and your feelings for me. I couldn’t accept that you could love me and keep something from me at the same time—not that I don’t wish you’d confided in me.” She studied his face. “But I understand why you didn’t.”
“And I’m sorry for that, more sorry t
han you will ever know. I never meant to hurt you. At first, all I could think about was freeing my brother and getting my castle back, but it didn’t take long for me to know that I wanted you for myself. As I grew to know you, and care for you, I realized how badly the truth would hurt you. If there had been another choice, I would have taken it.”
“You did what you had to do. Not that I’m planning on thanking my cousin for interfering.”
Stubborn lass, he thought with a grin. “I didn’t think you would. But marrying you I did for myself as much as for my brother.”
“What is important is that I love you and you love me. I can’t escape who I am any more than you can. You are chief, and I realize there are times you will have to put duty first. I’ll have to accept that I can’t have all of you.”
“Yes, you can,” he said softly. “You have all of my heart and soul.”
Her eyes glistened. “For a man who claims not to have a courtier’s silvery tongue, you seem to know precisely what to say.”
He stroked her chin with his thumb. “Then you forgive me?”
Her mouth twitched, and the naughty glint in her eyes returned. “I might be persuaded. But you will have to work extra hard to prove it to me.”
He was more than equal to the task. “I love you, Flora. If I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, I’ll be a happy man.”
“And I love you.”
She leaned over and reached for something on the table beside the bed. It took him a moment to realize what it was. She lifted it up and he bent his head, allowing the amulet to drop over his head.
“It belongs to you now.”
A lump lodged in his throat. “Are you sure, lass?”
She nodded, her eyes damp with tears—not of sadness, but of happiness. “You have given your life for mine, and now I willingly give this to you—my husband, my love.”
He didn’t know what to say, so instead he kissed her gently. Tasting the saltiness of her tears and the warm honey taste of her lips and tongue. Before the hard pull of possession dragged him in, slowly, reluctantly, he released her.
He started to pull away, intending to give her rest, but Flora had different intentions. Her hands slid down his chest, his shirt still damp from his unplanned swim. His blood stirred hot at her touch. She peeked up at him from under her long lashes. “Hmm…I was thinking you might care to prove it right now.” She feigned a shiver. “I’m feeling chilled. These blankets don’t seem to be working. I was hoping you might be able to think of a way to warm me?”
He stilled, wanting nothing more. But he also didn’t want to risk overtiring her in her weakened state. Her hand skimmed the waistband of his trews, and he captured her wrist before she could touch him, knowing that once she did, he would be past the point of reason. His need for her was so strong, it would be like trying to harness a lightning bolt.
“Are you sure, lass?” His voice was tight with restraint. “This time there will be no going back. The marriage has not been recorded. If you want out of it, I’ve promised your brother I would not contest it.”
“I’m done looking back. I only want to look to the future. With you.”
He let go of her wrist, and when she covered him with her sweet little hand, he groaned into her mouth as he claimed the woman he loved.
Flora tasted his groan of pleasure as she slid her hand over his trews, molding him with her hand. Just touching him again made her flood with heat. He was so big and hard, and she couldn’t wait to feel him inside her—filling her as he thrust hard and deep.
Her body pulsed with desire.
She wanted to hold on to every second and make this last forever. But the touch of his mouth on hers was like wildfire, and she knew there would be no containing the passion that burned between them. It was too hot, too intense, too out of control.
After nearly losing him, she needed him too badly.
Her hands skimmed over his back and shoulders, pressing him closer. God, he was amazing. So gorgeous and strong. His warrior’s body layered with solid, thick muscle that flexed under her fingertips.
He broke the kiss only long enough to pull off his shirt and trews and then slid into the bed beside her, pulling her against him as his mouth fell on hers again. She melted into the heat, wanting to feel every powerful inch of him pressed against her. His warm, smooth skin wreaked havoc on her senses, making her tingle where they touched.
His big hands took command of her body. He touched her everywhere, stroking, caressing, igniting. His fingers plunged through her hair, down her back, and over her bottom. His rough, callused palms were both gentle and possessive as he lifted her against him.
Her body was damp and throbbing—desperate for him. The craving ran from the deepest part of her, taking hold and demanding release.
And he wanted her, though he was struggling to contain it. He kissed her harder, his tongue sliding into her mouth with deep, demanding strokes. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted him wild—beyond restraint—the way he’d been in her room last night. The way she felt right now.
“Don’t,” she murmured against his mouth.
He pulled back, and she could see his confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t hold back. I want all of you. You don’t need to protect me.” She lifted up to kiss him, sliding her tongue along the velvety crease of his mouth. “I won’t break.”
His eyes searched her face.
“You could never frighten me,” she assured him. He was so beautiful, this wild, passionate man. She kissed him again, sliding her tongue in his mouth and circling her tongue with his in a deeply erotic, deeply carnal openmouthed kiss. “Show me,” she breathed. “I want to feel your passion…unchained.” She circled him with her hand. His eyes flared, and the spark of danger urged her on.
Holding his gaze, she challenged him, stroking him, squeezing with long, hard strokes. She wouldn’t let him go. He was hers. All of him—even that rough, untamed side of him that he sought to hide.
The flames rose higher and higher in his eyes….
She’d won. His control snapped. She was on her back, and he was kissing her, his mouth moving over her lips, her jaw, her neck. Dominating. Ravaging. Wild and free.
He licked and sucked, making her shudder as his warm breath blew across her damp skin. He cupped her breasts and buried his face between her, the stubble of his beard scraping the tender flesh. She arched against him, needing more. Needing his mouth.
He covered her throbbing nipple and sucked, pulling her between his teeth until she writhed against him. Until her body began to spasm.
He lifted his head and held her gaze as he entered her in one hard thrust. The pleasure made her cry out. So big and thick, he filled her so completely, the pleasure was so acute, she couldn’t stand it.
And then he started to move, holding her gaze the entire time. The raw intensity of his expression took her breath away. It wasn’t just lust, or even just love, but something far more elemental: a perfect union of two bodies and two souls into one. He was meant for her and she for him.
She could feel the emotion surging in him just under her fingertips, his entire body pulsating with the pressure of everything that had happened between them. How close they’d come to losing each other. He thrust deeper and deeper. Harder and harder. And she met him stroke for stroke.
This was it. He was out of control, utterly consumed. And so was she. Never had she felt so alive and free. She felt the pressure build, knew she was close, but she had to hold on…. He sank in her deep, pushing higher, forcing her.
She couldn’t breathe. It felt too good. She pulsed with heat, and sensation rippled through her in warm, wet waves.
She felt him stiffen, saw the pleasure transform his face, and heard the deep guttural cry that tore from him as his release gripped his body, and she let go…weightless for a long heartbeat before breaking apart with a shattering intensity, her body contracting hard around him, the warm rush of his seed spilling deep insi
de her.
He was merciless, not even letting her catch her breath. Still warm and tingling, he rocked his hips against her, rubbing her hard against him until she cried out again. Slow and strong, wave after wave of sensation crashed over her. And when the last ebb of her release had faded, he nestled her against him tenderly, as if she might break.
She was moved beyond speech by the magnitude of what had just happened. He’d given her everything: his love, his body, his soul, and his trust.
Lachlan smoothed his hand over her warm, velvety skin, watching as the frantic rise and fall of her chest slowed. He didn’t know what to say. Words seemed an imperfect substitute for what he was feeling right now. Happy, content, relieved—all seemed utterly inadequate.
The misery of the past few days had been put behind them. The uncertainty of revealing his bargain with Argyll, the pain of their confrontation, arriving home with his brother to discover her gone, seeing her on that rock, realizing what Hector intended, and then watching her jump into the frigid, churning seas. It had all been expunged, released in a cataclysmic explosion of love and lust.
She’d stripped him to the core, seen behind the veil of civility, and given him only love and acceptance.
He’d made her his wife, bound her to him for eternity, but never had he felt so free—unchained, as she’d called it.
My wife.
She sighed deeply.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She turned to him and smiled. “More than all right.”
He tilted her chin, gazing deep into her eyes. “I love you.”
“I know.” Her mouth curved in a naughty little grin. “You finally succeeded in proving it to me.”
“Thank God,” he groaned. “I don’t think I could do that again.”
Highlander Unchained Page 33