She frowned and tried to breathe evenly. Arrogant sod.
“In the woods ye didn’t sound an alarm.” When she didn’t refute he continued. “Ye possess magic and it’s a blessing, but should only be used when necessary because it tires ye.” He raised her wrist and traced the wings of the brown dragonfly.
Alec’s nose skimmed the pulse of her neck, his lips hovering up to her jaw, making her heart pound. “I know yer scent.” He inhaled and goose bumps rippled along her arms.
His hand moved to her chest, palm against her heart, fingers stretched up along her collarbone. “I know the sound of yer heart racing and how yer sky blue eyes turn darker when I am close.”
She would have denied it, but guessed it was true.
“Ye are exceedingly clever. And ye still favor sweetened raspberries like ye did as a lass.”
Her words were breathy, shallow. “I’m still lethal with a wooden sword.”
He smiled. His palms cupped her cheeks and Rachel’s lips opened on their own accord, but he held himself apart. She almost groaned in frustration.
“And I know ye meddle and get into trouble when ye think ’tis the right thing to do,” he said. “We’re certain to yell a bit at each other. For ye have spirit, lass, to match my own.”
His nose touched hers and she hardly breathed. Several heartbeats passed. His heat scorched her. His scent filled her every breath. His strength radiated outward, encompassing her, making her weak and mighty at the same time.
Rachel cleared her throat. “But there’s more to me. I’m not that young girl running free in the fields.”
“We have decades to learn the particulars,” he whispered, so close to her lips she felt the breeze of his words. She nodded, brushing his forehead. He lowered his hands and straightened, a look of mild disappointment tightening his face.
“And what do ye know of me, besides the fact that I’m stubborn and a mountain of a man?” He flexed his thick biceps as if proving her description of him.
She smirked. “You forgot domineering and overbearing.”
He tipped his head and a small laugh broke from her.
“Well, you are kind to let my father live.”
He nodded vehemently.
“You have a good sense of direction, and know how to cook a rabbit.”
“And hunt sweetened raspberries,” he added.
Charming. She could add that. Charming when he wanted to be.
“A leader of a great clan,” she said. “And I think…honorable.”
“I always keep my promises, lass.”
“You are good with a sword and you smell clean,” she added quickly.
He flashed white teeth. “Because I am clean.” He stepped close again. “But ye forgot a most important part of me, something that I’ve recently stumbled upon.” His expression grew serious, almost pained for a moment, as he caught a curl and tucked it with a caress behind her ear. “When that bastard Macbain stabbed ye—”
“Because I was meddling.”
“Aye.” His quick grin faded just as fast as it was born. His gaze moved to the ceiling. “Let me back up.” He paused until he looked her in the eye again. Pure loathing shook his voice. “I hate the Macbains. They killed my father, my two brothers, and would have killed me.” He took a large breath of air.
“But when Angus Riley,” he nearly spit the name, “stabbed ye, all I could think about was ye, saving ye, holding yer warm body against mine again, kissing ye.”
Rachel blushed but couldn’t look away.
“I could have turned and killed him there, possibly killed The Macbain himself, but they meant nothing.” Alec’s thumb brushed her cheek and she realized a tear had trailed down it. “All I could think about was Rachel Brindle and how much…” His lips tightened as if he were about to say something foreign. “How much…I love ye.”
Her breath caught on her inhalation. Alec took her hand in his and his voice deepened with his oath. “Tha gaol agam ort, Rachel. Gu bràth, forever.” He leaned in so close, his bottom lip brushed hers. He waited. “I do not break my promises.”
Rachel moved her lips against his but he held still. The memory of his oath in the cave surfaced. He’d kept his promise not to kiss her until she asked. This wild, headstrong barbarian was her gallant knight. “I love you, too.” She took his face in her hands. “Kiss me, Alec Munro.”
As if a dam had broken, Alec’s entire being overtook her. His lips, hot and urgent, melded with her own. His arms caught her up, fitting her into the shelter of his body, pressing her tightly to his muscled form. The physical difference between them sent rapture spiraling through her. She let him hold her up as sensation after sensation washed away everything but Alec’s taste, Alec’s scent, Alec’s touch. The rough boards at Rachel’s back faded from her consciousness, as did everything but their hearts racing together. His kisses trailed down her neck and she moaned softly. Only then did she hear the polite cough.
She stiffened and Alec growled. “Be gone, Phillip.” Alec’s hot lips feathered back up to hers and she relaxed as his hands ran caresses down her arms.
A deep chuckle. “It’s customary for the bride to say ‘I do’ before—”
“I do,” Rachel breathed against Alec’s lips. He paused and she opened her eyes to see his broad smile. His blue eyes shone bright and he threw back his head and laughed. She couldn’t help but join him. Alec picked her up. Rachel gasped on a giggle and clung hard to his neck as he carried her toward the keep.
“I do, too,” Alec said against her ear. The heat in his words scorched her. “Let us tell the good father quickly, then. I have a desire to learn everything about ye. From the curls of yer lovely head to the tips of yer wee toes, and everything in between.”
He paused to seal his oath. Rachel’s blood rushed with the promise in Alec’s kiss. A promise of adventures and passion.
A promise of a lifetime of love.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to all those mighty Highlanders out there who make our blood rush with the promise of adventure and a lifetime of passion and love. Braden – you will always be my one and only Highland Heart.
About the Author
Heather McCollum is an award winning, historical paranormal romance writer. The ancient magic and lush beauty of Great Britain entranced Ms. McCollum’s heart and imagination when she visited there years ago. The country’s history and landscape have been a backdrop for her writing ever since. She currently resides with her very own Highland hero, three spirited children, and rescued golden retriever in the wilds of suburbia on the mid-Atlantic coast.
When Ms. McCollum is not creating vibrant characters and magical adventures on the page, she’s roaring her own battle cry in the war against Ovarian Cancer. She’s a survivor since 2011, having wielded the chemo claymore to slay the beast. For more information on OC and Ms. McCollum, please visit her website at www.HeatherMcCollum.com.
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