Wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb, Callum shook his head. “Of course ye were glad I left,” he said, moving her hand from his mouth and placing it over his heart. “I made trouble everywhere I went. And ye ken I still do.”
“I was glad you left because then I wouldn’t be… tempted.”
That stopped him. “Ye’ll need to explain that, lass.”
“I can’t. Not tonight.” She plucked at the collar of his shirt. “Because I did love him. I did. But you were wild, and Ian was kind and safe. For a young lady of eighteen, the head knows one thing, and the heart, another.”
Callum kissed her. She’d been angry that night, but she hadn’t hated him. She hadn’t found him repulsive. Whatever else he’d just confirmed, just learned,thatseemed the most significant. And he had no intention of watching another moment of possibilities pass him by. He’d learned that much, at least.
Bending her backward against the headboard, he kissed everywhere he could reach—her throat, her eyes, her soft, soft mouth. Moaning, she dug his shirt out of his trousers and slid her hands up his chest, the heat ofher burning away the chill of the night, of what Ian had just confirmed from beyond his grave.
Boots should not go on the bed. Wherever that thought came from, it did seem polite to remove them. Freeing one hand he did so, letting them drop to the floor and glad he’d had the foresight to lock her bedchamber door. Then he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside, as well. His skin needed to be against hers. He needed to touch her, to feel her heat, to be inside her. For ten years, more than ten years, she’d haunted his dreams more than anyone else. For ten years he’d called himself a fool for being unable to forget her, for being unable to find some other lass to share his life. But she was the only one he’d ever wanted. And tonight, nothing was going to keep her from him.
Lifting her onto her knees, he grabbed the bottom hem of her night rail and pulled it up over her head, casting it into the pile. Generous breasts, a soft curve to her hips—he noted her in general, then nudged her back onto the bed again. He could admire her specifically later.
Callum moved over her, taking a breast into his mouth and flicking the nipple with his tongue. When she groaned again, he thought his cock would split right out of his trousers. Her hands at the fastenings only made it worse, but he liked that she wanted to undress him. Lifting up a little, he made room for her hands as he shifted his attention to her mouth again.
When she finally opened the last button of his trousers he kicked out of them one leg at a time, every muscle taut with need. Keeping his mouth hungrily on Rebecca’s, he lifted her legs and pulled them around his hips, impaling her on his shaft.
She dug her fingers into his back, breathless need on her face as he sank deeper inside her.Finally. She wasno damned virgin, and he didn’t want to be gentle or slow. The need, the urge to claim her, overwhelmed everything. Planting his hands at her shoulders, he pushed into her again and again as she locked her ankles around his arse and dug her fingers into his back and held on.
Her light blue eyes, darkened to purest sapphire in the candlelight, held his gaze as she moaned and panted in time with his thrusts. Neither of them spoke; he for one didn’t want her coming to her senses and asking him to stop. Perhaps she had the same concern about him. Regardless, the room was quiet except for the crack of the fire, her breathy groaning, and the rhythmic creak of the bed.
Her breathing came more quickly, and then she tilted her head back as she spasmed around him. Good God. Clenching his own jaw, Callum sped his pace, digging his fingers into the sheets as he climaxed, emptying himself into her.
When he’d finished he rolled onto his back, panting and sweaty. More. He wanted her again already, but his damned body needed a few minutes. When she turned and curled against his side, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and finally relaxed a little. She hadn’t tried to escape, at least.
“I’m generally more composed than that,” he finally murmured.
She kissed his chest. “I honestly didn’t mind,” she returned, trying to keep the amusement from her voice and not quite succeeding. Good heavens. One moment she’d been weeping over Ian, and the next… “Good heavens,” she said aloud.
“It might’ve been wiser to show ye I’ve a slow, patient side,” he commented. “Ye said ye already knew the wild one.”
“The wild one has its merits.” In nine years of married life she’d never experienced an encounter quite so invigorating. The fire in the hearth snapped, and she lifted her head—and caught sight of Ian’s note still on the foot of her bed. A touch of guilt chilled her fingers. “What are we going to do? This is—”
“Dunnae say it’s wrong,” he broke in, his accent deepening. “It’s nae wrong, Rebecca.”
“Would Ian think that?”
“I already reminded ye about levirate marriage. Highlands men end up dead more often than ye’d think. If a lad couldnae marry his brother’s widow, wealth and property and clan would end up fractured and broken all about the countryside.” His arm tightened around her. “And I’m nae finished with ye yet.”
That started a low shiver deep in her belly. And abruptly it seemed like a great deal longer than fourteen months since she’d had a man in her bed. Ian had told her that he’d forgiven Callum, and that he’d written to tell him so. At the time it had made her angry—or so she’d told herself. The last thing she wanted was Callum back in her life to complicate everything. But Ian’s death had jumbled and wrecked any plans she’d had for her future. And now here Callum was, in her bed.
“That ledger Ian mentioned isnae in the desk,” he said into the silence. “Might yer da’ have taken it? To protect ye or himself?”
“I don’t remember him taking anything, but several of my recollections from then are… fuzzy.”
“Understandable. I need to take a look.”
“You still need more proof?”
He cocked his head, looking down at her. “I’d have been content to gut Dunncraigh the moment I set foot on land. But ye wanted proof, and now I want to knowwhythey did it. I dunnae ken that it matters, all in all,but the part of me that cannae conceive of that level of greed wants to hear him confess. At the least I want to understand why he decided Ian needed to die. Do ye nae want me to look into what happened to yer da’?”
The magnitude of what she’d begun to realize tonight continued to stun her. A week or two ago she’d been considering whether an autumn wedding with Donnach Maxwell would raise any eyebrows, or if they should wait until the following spring, when not even the most stiff-backed of matrons could mutter that she hadn’t finished with her mourning duties.
“If ye dunnae want to know whether George passed on or was pushed to it, I ken,” he went on. “I willnae tell ye if ye prefer. I mean to find the answer, though.”
“I would prefer that he was still here,” she countered. “He said he would take on everything he could of Ian’s duties, and I was so relieved. And then I had his affairsandIan’s to wade through.” That was when Donnach had stepped forward, and she’d been grateful.Grateful.
