“I’m nae afraid of anything!” she said hotly, but something in her voice said differently. “I wish to be a warrior, nae a wife, ’tis all.” She started toward the castle once more.
“And ye think ye kinnae be both?” he said, catching up to her.
She gave him an incredulous look. “Would ye allow me to be a warrior?”
He frowned. “Ye are nae a hound, Lillith. It would nae be my place to tell ye what to do.”
Her lips parted in obvious surprise. “Ye do nae intend to lord over yer wife?”
“I would hope we could discuss things,” he said, speaking aloud the things he had never fully considered about marriage until this moment.
She eyed him suspiciously. “But, but…ye were seeking a biddable wife!”
He nodded. “Aye, to avoid strife, but mayhap I should have been seeking a lass I’m best matched to.” He wasn’t entirely sure now.
“’Tis nae me!” she declared, looking almost fearful of him.
Before Rory could try to uncover why she looked fearful, they rounded a bend in the path, and the gardens of Dunvegan came into view. Without warning, Lillith raced ahead to the center of the garden with Masie yapping at her heels. There, she threw her arms wide and began to spin in slow circles.
“What are ye doing?” Rory called, closing the distance between them.
“Soaking up the beauty!” she said, spinning faster now.
Her hair swung around her as she spun, and her skin almost looked as if it glistened in the moonlight. She was the most beautiful lass he had ever seen, and the most perplexing he had ever met. Suddenly, she stopped spinning and threw back her head to howl at the moon. A smile tugged at his lips as he soaked up the sight that was so carefree and enticing. Masie joinedin immediately, and the sound of mistress and hound carried through the gardens.
Something stirred in Rory’s chest that felt deeper than mere desire.
The howling stopped as abruptly as it had begun, replaced by breathless laughter as Lillith continued to spin. “The stars are dancing,” she announced, her words slurring more heavily now. “Everything is dancing—”
Her foot caught on Masie, who had circled too close, and Lillith pitched forward with a startled cry. Rory dropped the torch he’d been holding to guide their way into the snow, and he moved without thinking, closing the distance between them in three long strides to catch her before she hit the frozen ground.
She landed against his chest with enough force to knock a soft “oof” from his lungs. His arms wrapped around her waist, steadying her, and suddenly they were pressed together, her face a hairsbreadth from his own. Her breath, sweet with mead, mingled with his in the cold air between them.
“Ye caught me,” she murmured, sounding surprised and something else—something that made his heart hammer against his ribs.
“Aye,” Rory replied, his voice rougher than he intended. “I did.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and that was all it took. He lowered his head and captured her lips with his own, half-expecting her to pull away, and sharply remind him that she had no intention of becoming his bride.
Instead, Lillith melted against him, her arms twining around his neck as she returned his kiss with a passion that stole the breath from his lungs. She tasted of mead and something sweeter, and when she made a mewling sound of pleasure, he pulled her closer, wanting to deepen the kiss and explore hermouth. He slid one hand into the silken strands of her hair, and his other hand went to the delicate curve of her back.
He ran his tongue over the crease of her lips, hoping she’d open for him, and when she did, he felt he’d won the most crucial battle of his life. Their tongues twined, and his blood seared through his veins. Everything around him narrowed to her—the warmth of her mouth, the heather that clung to her, her soft body pressed willingly and eagerly to his. She was not biddable. She was fire, and he was drawn to her flame.
Then, as suddenly as she had surrendered to the kiss, she pulled back. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in surprise—at him or herself, he could not tell.
“The garden is spinning,” she whispered, her voice faint and confused. “Everything is—”
“Well, this is an interesting development,” a voice remarked from behind them.
“Grandmama!” Lillith chirped. “The ground is tilting!”
Rory turned to find Marion MacLeod standing at the edge of the garden, wrapped in a heavy woolen cloak. Her expression was more curious than outraged, which Rory took as a promising sign that he would not be standing in the solar soon, listening to Royce MacLeod bellow at him for kissing his daughter.
“I think I may faint,” Lillith announced, sounding amused about it.
Rory quickly swept her off her feet and into his arms, to which she responded by grinning at him before laying her head on his shoulders and closing her eyes. “I’m so tired,” she said, before taking three deep breaths.
Rory met Lady MacLeod’s gaze. “I think the mead has gotten to her.”
