“Murdock,” she gasped. “I… I cannae…”
“Aye, ye can.” He kissed her, swallowing her next words. “Give it to me.”
The climax hit her like a physical blow. Pleasure crashed through her in waves, stealing her breath, her vision, her ability to think.She cried out against his mouth, her body arching off the desk as the sensations overwhelmed her.
Murdock worked her through it, his fingers gentling but not stopping, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until she was boneless and gasping.
When she finally stilled, he withdrew his hand slowly and pulled her against his chest, holding her while her breathing gradually steadied. She could feel his heart pounding against her cheek, could feel his rigid length poke her hip.
He wanted her. That much was undeniable. But he made no move to seek his own pleasure, content to simply hold her in the aftermath.
“This is what I can give ye,” he whispered against her hair, his voice rough with emotion she couldn’t name. “This passion. This protection. This… devotion to yer pleasure, to yer safety, to yer happiness. Why is it nae enough?”
The words hit her like cold water, and reality crashed back.
Leona pulled back enough to look up at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes despite his attempt to hide it. Her hand came up to cup his face, thumb stroking across his cheekbone.
“Because I want yer heart, too, me Laird,” she said quietly. “I want all of ye, nae just the pieces ye’re willing to share.”
Murdock went completely still. Something flickered across his face, raw and unguarded, before his expression shuttered again. He opened his mouth, and for a moment, Leona thought he might say something real, something true, something that would change everything between them.
But then a knock sounded at the door.
“Me Laird?” It was Hamish’s voice, apologetic but urgent. “The council requests yer presence. They’ve heard about the weddin' and have… concerns.”
Murdock’s jaw clenched. He stepped back from Leona, putting distance between them with clear reluctance. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing still uneven.
“I’ll be there shortly,” he called out, his voice admirably steady, given the circumstances.
“Aye, me Laird.”
Footsteps retreated down the corridor.
The silence that fell between them was heavy, weighted with everything unsaid.
Leona slid off the desk on shaking legs, her hands trembling as she tried to right her clothes. Her bodice laces seemed impossibly complicated, her fingers refusing to cooperate.
Murdock moved to help her, his touch gentle now, almost tender. He tied the laces with care, then smoothed down her skirts, his hands lingering on her waist.
“Leona,” he started, but she shook her head.
“Daenae.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Just… daenae.”
She couldn’t hear this right now. Couldn’t listen to him explain again why desire and protection should be enough, why she should settle for half of what she wanted. Of what they both deserved.
Not when her body still thrummed with the aftershocks of pleasure he’d given her. Not when she could still feel the ghost of his hands on her skin. Not when the scent of him surrounded her, making it hard to think clearly.
She needed space. Needed air. Needed to remember why she’d been angry before he’d kissed her senseless.
“The council is waitin',” she said, straightening her spine with effort. “Ye should go.”
“We’re nae done talkin' about this.”
“There’s nothin' left to say.” She finally met his eyes, letting him see the hurt beneath her desire. “Ye’ve made yer decision. In two days, I’ll marry ye. What more do ye want from me?”
“Everythin'.” The word was torn from him, raw and honest. “I want everythin'', lass. But I daenae ken how to give ye what ye’re askin for in return.”
The admission hung between them, vulnerable and terrible.
