“Every word.” His hand came up to cup her cheek. “I love ye. And I’m done pretendin’ I daenae. Done pushin’ ye away when ye get too close. Done bein’ a coward.”
“I love ye too.” The admission felt right, true. “Even when ye’re bein’ an impossible arse. Even when ye say terrible things because ye’re frightened. I love ye, Elijah Craig.”
His mouth came down on hers, and this time she didn’t pull away. She kissed him back with everything she had. All the hurt, all the love, all the relief of knowing they’d get through this together.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against hers.
“Take me home,” she whispered. “Take me home to our son.”
“Our son.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Aye. Let’s go home.”
They’d been riding for perhaps an hour, Iris seated before Elijah on Thunder while Mairie followed behind in the carriage, when he suddenly veered off the main road toward a small village.
“Where are ye going?” Iris asked, confused. “The castle’s that way.”
“I ken.” His voice was rough, strained. “But we need to stop.”
“Why? Is somethin’ wrong with the horse?”
“Nay. I just... I cannae wait any longer.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he was dismounting and lifting her down, practically dragging her toward the village’s small inn. Mairie called something after them.
"Get yerself some food and ale in the common room," Elijah called back to her without breaking stride. "We'll be down shortly."
Then his focus was entirely on getting Iris inside.
“Elijah, what is going on?”
“A room,” he told the startled innkeeper. “Yer best room. Now.”
The innkeeper took one look at Elijah’s face and quickly produced a key. “Top of the stairs, last door on the right, me laird.”
Elijah tossed coins on the counter then guided Iris up the stairs with a hand on her lower back. The urgency in his movements and the tension in his shoulders were making her heart race.
“Elijah, what’s going on?” she asked as he unlocked the door and pulled her inside. “Why did we stop?”
He closed the door behind them, leaning against it as he stared at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Because I cannae hold back anymore. Because I’ve spent the past three days terrified I’d lost ye forever, and now that I have ye back, I need...” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I need ye, Iris. Right now.”
The raw honesty in his voice made heat flood through her. “Here? Now? We’re mere hours from home.”
“I daenae care.” He pushed off from the door, stalking toward her with predatory grace. “I cannae wait hours. I cannae sit on that horse with ye in me arms, feelin’ yer warmth, smellin’ yer scent, and nae touch ye properly. I’ll go mad.”
“Elijah.”
“Tell me nay.” He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Tell me ye daenae want this, and I’ll walk out that door right now. We’ll get back on the horse and ride home like nothin’ happened. But if ye want this even half as much as I do...”
She reached up, pulling his mouth down to hers in answer.
The kiss was fierce, hungry, his tongue demanding entry as it tangled with hers. She gasped, her hands instinctively clutching at his broad shoulders, the rough wool of his kilt jacket scratching her palms. His body pressed against hers, hard and insistent, his erection a firm presence against her thigh.
“Elijah,”she murmured against his lips, breathless, but he silenced her with another kiss, his hands roaming down her body with a purpose that left no doubt of his intentions. Her breath hitched as his calloused fingers traced the curve of her thigh, lifting her skirts with deliberate slowness. She felt the cool air on her legs, and then his fingers hooked into her stockings, tearing them down her legs with a rough tug that made her gasp.
His hands were everywhere—tangling in her hair, spanning her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. She matched his desperation, her fingers working at the laces of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers.
“God, I’ve missed ye,” he groaned against her mouth, his hands already working at the fastenings of her dress. “Missed this. Missed ye in me arms, in me bed.”
“It’s only been a few days,” she managed though her voice was breathless.
