"Harald," she gasped, her voice a low, husky vibration. "Please..."
His hands, vast and warm, slid down her waist to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her backside before he pulled her legs wide. He looked up at her then, fire dancing in his eyes—a look of such raw, proprietary desire it made her breath hitch.
He brought his hand to her mouth, offering her his finger. Enya took it without hesitation, her eyes locked on his as she tasted the salt of his skin, her pulse screaming.
With a slow, deliberate focus, he slid that same finger between her legs.
Enya let out a sharp cry, her hips bucking. The feeling was slick and hot, a stretching pressure that made her internal muscles clamp in a desperate, rhythmic pulse. He watched her, his thumb grazing her core in a way that made white light explode behind her eyes.
"Ye want more, Enya?" he rumbled, his voice a dark, gravelly promise.
"Aye," she breathed, her pride long gone. "I want... I want all o' ye."
He moved between her thighs, his knees forcing her further open. He entered her in one slow, deliberate surge.
Enya’s eyes flew wide as her breath left her in a frantic sob. The fullness of him was staggering, a sensation so thick and intrusive it felt like she was being split open and filled with light all at once. Her internal walls vanished. Harald paused, his jaw tight, his muscles locking as he waited for her to find her breath.
"Are ye alright, lass?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
"Dinnae... dinnae ye dare stop," she commanded, her voice shaky but fierce. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, her heels digging into his back, pulling him flush against her.
He began to move then—a rhythmic, driving assault on her senses. Every deep, punishing surge of his weight sent waves of electricity through her marrow. He was unyielding, a force of nature that demanded every part of her. She felt his massive hands slide under her hips, lifting her, tilting her pelvis to meet every deep strike.
The heat between them became an all-consuming weight, a golden, unbearable pressure that began to throb at her core. She surged toward him, her knuckles white as she clung to his shoulders, their moans mingling in the quiet of the room.
The tension reached a breaking point—a sudden, violent cresting of the wave. Her muscles clamped around him in a desperate pulse, and the world simply ceased to exist. Ashattering, toe-curling release exploded through her, a physical scream of pleasure that left her mind spinning into the dark.
“Harald!” she cried out, her voice breaking.
Harald followed her a heartbeat later, his own muffled roar lost against her neck as he emptied himself into her, his heavy frame finally collapsing against her with a staggering, absolute finality. She held him, her heart beating against his, finally warm, finally whole.
Hours later, the fire had faded to glowing embers. Enya lay tangled in the heavy furs, her head resting on the steady, rhythmic drum of Harald’s chest. His arm was draped over her, anchoring her to the bed as if even in sleep he was guarding her from the world.
The bitterness of her secrets still flickered in the back of her mind—a cold copper taste she couldn't quite wash away. But as she inhaled the scent of him, she pressed herself closer into his heat, choosing to believe that she was finally home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The morning arrived with a soft, persistent grey light that felt like a secret.
Enya stirred against the heavy warmth of Harald’s chest, her skin still singing from the friction of the night before. She felt his heartbeat—a slow, rhythmic thud beneath her ear. It was the most honest thing she had ever known. No lies, no courtly posturing, just the steady pulse of a man who had claimed her with a reverence that still made her throat feel tight.
Harald shifted, his arm tightening around her waist in a possessive, sleep-heavy curve. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, his breath warm against her messy hair.
"Morning," he rasped, the vibration of his voice rumbling through her entire body.
Enya lifted her head, her eyes catching the silver dawn. She felt a flutter of something terrifyingly soft in her chest that made her cheeks flush.
"Ye sound far too pleased wi' yerself, Harald," she whispered, her voice husky and thick with sleep. She reached up, her thumbtracing the hard line of his jaw. "One would think ye’d conquered an entire kingdom instead o' just a stubborn Cameron woman."
Harald chuckled, a low, silky sound that made her heart beat faster. "In me mind, there is nay difference."
He shifted, pinning her gently with his weight as he leaned over to catch her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender, tasting of shared breath and new beginnings.
Enya surged into it, her fingers curling into his hair, letting herself believe that the world outside the door had finally ceased to exist. For a few heartbeats, there was only the scratch of his beard and the heavy, loving heat of his body.
Then, the world returned with a vengeance.
A sharp, rhythmic rapping against the heavy oak door shattered the silence. It wasn't the respectful knock of a servant; it was the demanding strike of authority.
