“She told me.” His arms tightened around me. “She said you were exactly what she’d hoped for.”
I leaned back against him. “She gave me her blessing.”
Patrick kissed my temple. “She’s a remarkable woman.”
“I keep thinking about Marco,” I admitted. “About what he’d think of all this...” My voice caught. “Of us.”
Patrick waited, giving me space to find the words.
“He’d tell me to be happy,” I said, smiling through tears. “To live fully. That’s what he always believed.”
“He was right,” Patrick murmured against my hair. “So let’s live.”
He turned me in his arms, and the kiss that followed was slow at first—tender and reverent. Then it changed, deepened, became something hungry and urgent. His tongue slid against mine, coaxing a low moan from my throat as his hands moved down my back, pressing me hard against the solid length of his body. I felt him already rigid against my belly, the thick heat of him making my knees weaken.
“Come with me,” he whispered, voice rough with need.
He took my hand and led me down the short corridor to the master bedroom—the laird’s chamber, centuries old, dominated by a massive four-poster bed draped in deep green velvet. Thefire had burned low, embers pulsing like a heartbeat, throwing golden light over the ancient stone walls and the thick rugs beneath our feet.
Patrick didn’t bother with lamps. He backed me against one of the carved bedposts, his mouth claiming mine again, hotter now, more demanding. I clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle as his hands slid under my sweater, palms skating over bare skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts until I arched into him with a gasp.
“Christ, Theresa,” he growled against my throat, teeth scraping the sensitive spot just below my ear. “I’ve wanted you like this all day—wet and desperate and mine.”
His words sent a rush of liquid heat between my thighs. I yanked at his shirt, buttons scattering as I tore it open, needing skin. He shrugged it off, then dragged my sweater over my head in one impatient motion, leaving me in nothing but lace. His gaze raked over me, dark and feral.
“Beautiful,” he rasped. “Every inch of you.”
He dropped to his knees, mouth closing over one lace-covered nipple, sucking hard until I cried out. His hands shoved my skirt up to my waist, fingers hooking into my panties and ripping them down my legs. Before I could catch my breath, his mouth was on me—hot, wet, merciless. His tongue parted my folds, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up my center that made my hips jerk. He pinned my thighs wider, devouring me like a starving man, circling my clit until I was shaking, fingers tangled in his hair, begging incoherently.
“Patrick—please?—”
He surged up, capturing my mouth so I tasted myself on his tongue, and lifted me onto the edge of the bed. I clawed at his belt, freeing him, wrapping my fingers around the thick, velvet-hard length of him. He groaned, hips thrusting into my grip as I stroked him, thumb sweeping over the slick head.
When his hand reached toward the nightstand drawer, I knew what he was reaching for.
My hand shot out, covering his, stopping him.
Patrick froze, looking down at me, his eyes dark and questioning. “Theresa?”
“Don’t,” I whispered.
He hesitated, his hand still hovering near the drawer. “Theresa, we have ten children between us. We haven’t exactly planned for...”
“I know.” I laced my fingers through his, pulling his hand away from the drawer and bringing it to my heart. “I don’t want anything between us tonight, Patrick. No barriers. No safety nets.”
“It’s a risk,” he said, his voice rough. “A big one.”
“I know.” I looked up at him, seeing the desire warring with his protective instinct. “But we said we wanted to live, didn’t we? We said we wanted a life so full it spills over at times.”
I thought about the empty ache that had lived in my chest for months, the silence I’d feared would never end. And now, looking at this man who had brought color back into my world, I didn’t want to be careful. I wanted everything.
“I want to feel you,” I said, my voice fierce. “All of you. I want to know there’s nothing separating us.”
Patrick searched my face for a long moment. Then, slowly, he let out a breath that sounded like surrender.
“All of me,” he growled softly.
He pushed my knees wide, lined himself up, and drove into me in one long, searing thrust. The stretch was exquisite—almost too much, perfect, overwhelming. I cried out, nails raking down his back as he buried himself to the hilt, bare and blazing hot inside me.
