But as his head lowered toward hers, Iris realized this was no simple ritual. This was her first kiss, and it was with a man who’d forced her into marriage through threats and intimidation. His lips touched hers, soft at first, almost questioning, then as she didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss slightly. His mouth waswarm, firm, tasting faintly of whisky and something distinctly masculine that made her head spin.
It should have felt wrong. Should have been cold, brief, meaningless. Instead, heat exploded through her veins like liquid fire, her bound hand clenched involuntarily in his grip, and she felt her body sway toward him as if drawn by some invisible force.
For a moment, just a moment, she forgot where they were, forgot the circumstances that had brought them to this altar.
There was only the warmth of his mouth, the solid strength of his body so close to hers, and a desperate hunger she’d never experienced before. When he pulled back, something primitive and possessive flashed across his features as he stared down at her, and she realized her own breathing had gone shallow and quick.
What just happened?
“It is done,” the priest announced though his voice seemed to come from very far away. “I now pronounce ye husband and wife.”
The small congregation erupted in polite applause, but Iris barely heard it. She was staring up at her new husband, trying to understand the feeling flowing through her body. It was like fever, like hunger, like a thirst she hadn’t known she had.
And from the way Elijah was looking at her, like he wanted to devour her whole, she suspected he was feeling something similar.
“Come,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “We need to sign the register.”
The priest unwound the tartan from their hands, but Elijah didn’t release her immediately. His fingers lingered on hers, thumb tracing over the slight indentations the rope had left on her skin.
“Are ye all right?” he asked quietly.
She nodded, not trusting her voice because the truth was, she wasn’t all right. That kiss had awakened something inside her, something dangerous and entirely unwelcome. She was supposed to hate this man, fear him, and tolerate him just for her family’s sake.
She wasn’t supposed to feel this burning curiosity about what his hands would feel like on her skin or what it would be like to kiss him without an audience or the restraint of holy ground and watching eyes.
I’m in trouble.
As they moved to sign the marriage register, Elijah’s hand settled possessively on the small of her back; the touch burnedthrough the silk of her gown, sending awareness skittering along her nerves.
She was married now, bound to this dangerous, compelling man by law and ceremony and something far more primal that had ignited between them at the altar.
And as she signed her new name, Iris Craig, she realized that the greatest danger she faced might not be his threats or his power. It might be her own traitorous body’s response to his touch.
The ink was barely dry when Elijah leaned close to her ear, his breath warm against her neck.
“We leave tonight, wife,” he murmured. “Have yer maid pack only what ye need. Once we’re on me lands...” His hand pressed more firmly against her back. “We’ll have all the privacy we need to discuss… further terms of our arrangement.”
The promise in his voice made heat pool low in her belly, even as alarm bells rang in her head. She was well and truly caught now, bound to a man who could apparently make her forget her own name with a single kiss.
God help me.
CHAPTER FIVE
“We leave in one hour.”
Elijah watched his new wife’s face transform from confusion to fury in the space of a heartbeat. They’d barely made it back to the castle from the kirk, still in their wedding clothes, when he’d delivered the news.
“One hour?” Iris spun around to face him fully, her brown eyes blazing. “I havenae even started to pack.”
“Then ye’d better hurry.” He crossed his arms, studying her flushed cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Even furious, she was magnificent. “Henry’s already loadin’ the carriage.”
“Daenae ye dare stand there and give me orders like I’m some servant!” She stepped closer, close enough that he caught her scent that drifted from her. It was clean and wild in a way thatmade his blood warm. “I may have married ye, but that doesnae mean?—”
“That doesnae mean what, exactly?” Elijah interrupted, his voice dangerously quiet. “That ye’re me wife now? That ye’ll do as I say?”
“It doesnae ye can just bark commands at me and expect me to jump!” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I’m nae a possession ye can move around at will!”
Christ. She’s as fierce as she’s bonnie.
