He offered her a tight smile, reassuring her that he’d long recovered from the incident. But in reality, his father was a specter that followed him as doggedly as his own shadow. “I was only wee … but after I discovered what he did to Ma, I made myself a promise. I vowed that I’dneverbe like that shit-bag. I’d never turn on those I was supposed to love and protect.”
A sickly sensation washed over him then. Vows were all well and good. But blood was blood—and sometimes, there was no escaping one’s legacy.
Hazel set aside her cup of wine. And then, to his surprise, she leaned forward, catching his hand in hers. “Ye need not worry about that, Maclean.”
He stilled. The warmth and firmness of her touch made heat pool low in his belly, chasing away good sense. All he could focus on was how near they were. Her presence sucked all the air from the solar.
Thinking his silence was due to false modesty, she went on, “Ye are kind. Noble-hearted.”
He swallowed. “Am I?” And then, slowly—giving her every chance to pull away—he lifted her hand to his lips and gently pressed his lips to her knuckles. Her skin was soft and scented faintly with herbs. A tremor ran through her, and when he looked up, her eyes were wide. Startled. But there was something else in their depths—something that stirred him.
This woman. She chased away the darkness. Even with his mother lying ill in a nearby chamber, Hazel’s presence anchored him. When she was near, restlessness and frustration seeped away. He’d marked the effect she had on him that evening, as he’d sat at her hearth. But it grew stronger now. Impossible to ignore.
Awareness pulled tight between them before he added, “Then why do I ache to kiss ye right now?”
Hazel stared at where the chieftain held her hand.What the devil is he doing?
His lips were warm against her knuckles, his breath feathering across her skin. Her own breathing grew fast and shallow. She should pull away. Should stand and make some excuse to leave.
But she couldn’t move.
She wasn’t prepared for this. His gesture stunned her, as did the rawness of his reply. She’d been aware of attraction sparking between them before now, yet had deliberately ignored it. Engaging her chieftain in lively banter, teasing him—or telling him off as she had after the market—was all well and good. But it ended there. Her life was muddled enough as it was, without her complicating it further.
Besides, the man was soon to be married.
She’d meant what she’d just said. Hewaskind. Gallant too. A decent man who would rule Moy well. Nonetheless, she hadn’t indulged in foolish fantasies. She’d had too much on her mind of late to daydream about the handsome young chieftain.
But now his dark eyes held hers, and in them, she saw a hunger that made her heart kick like a wild pony against her breastbone.
He awoke something in Hazel—something that made recklessness sweep over her like a king tide.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned her hand over. His thumb traced the delicate skin of her inner wrist, finding her racing pulse. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips to her palm.
The kiss was soft. Sensual. His mouth moved against her skin in a way that made heat flood through her, turning her bones to water.
“Maclean,” she whispered. A warning. A plea. She didn’t know which.
“Craeg,” he murmured back. “Call me by my given name.”
Rising to his feet, he drew her up with him. For a heartbeat, they stood there, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She couldn’t help it; she inhaled, bringing his scent deep into her lungs.
That was a mistake, for dizziness swept over her.
His hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing her jaw. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “Tell me to let ye go … and I will.”
She should. God help her, she should.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Lowering his head, Maclean—Craeg—captured her mouth with his.
The kiss was gentle at first. Questioning. His lips moved against hers with a tenderness that made her chest ache. Testing. Seeking permission.
Gasping against his mouth, her hands came up to clutch his shoulders. The solid strength of him beneath her palms made her belly clench.
Her response unleashed something in him. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier. More demanding. His arm banded around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She pressed against the hard planes of his chest, where the thunder of his heart matched the frantic rhythm of her own.
Opening for him, she let him taste her. His tongue swept into her mouth, and a moan escaped her. She’d been kissed before, by Ewan. But she’d never melted in a man’s arms like this. Craeg tasted of wine and delicious male, and of the forbidden.
