“I dinnae. No at first. But then, yer sister arrived by falling from the sky. I wouldna have believed it myself if I hadna seen it in the tapestry. But there she was within the fibers of the wall hanging. And then when ye appeared…well, I dinnae need another sign.”
“But—”
“Rest,” he said again, interrupting her.
He rose from the bed and sat in the chair by the hearth to stare into the fire.
***
Chloe remained where she was as he walked to the chair, lowering himself down in it with a heavy sigh. Firelight flickeredover his face as he folded his massive forearms over his chest. His handsome face was pensive. She admitted she liked him without the beard.
It was hard to squelch the déjà vu erupting through her. The strange dream she had had of the man—which she had not thought of since it happened—flooded back to her. He’d had chiseled features like Malcolm. He’d had incredible sea-green eyes like Malcolm. He had held his arms out to her in invitation. She’d slid into his arms and allowed him to wrap her in his warmth.
Och, lass, I cannae resist ye.
It washim. Malcolm was the man in her dream.
The jolt zapped through her, electrifying her memories and her senses. She sat up, the blankets falling away as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. His gaze flickered back to her, his expression softening as he looked at her. When he did, a vaguely sensuous light passed between them, calling her, beckoning her. Indecision flashed through his incredible sea-green eyes and then, he held his arms out to her in invitation.
She was unable to resist. She pushed off the bed and went to him, sliding into his arms as he wrapped them around her, surrounding her in his warmth. He nuzzled her neck.
“Och, lass, I cannae resist ye,” he said. It was the same thing he’d said in her dream.
It was all coming true.
His sweet words rumbled through his broad chest. His breath was warm against her skin, sending tingles through her entire body. She tilted her head back.
“I can’t resist you either,” she whispered. “Youdocatch me every time I fall.”
And she was falling hard.
His lips met hers in a tantalizing kiss. It took her breath away. Her arms slipped around his neck, her eyes closed, and inthat moment, nothing in the world mattered other than Malcolm kissing her.
She allowed herself to believe in destinies and prophecies, in the idea they were meant for each other. Because no one else had made her feel safe like Malcolm did. It was more than comfortable safety—it was euphoric. As if the stars aligned just for her. As if the universe brought her this man who was meant to love her.
And while she wanted to believe in love at first sight—it had not worked out for her—she was a level-headed, down-to-earth, logical, intelligent woman.
A level-headed, down-to-earth, logical, intelligent woman who was smitten with a sexy Highland warrior who had taken her breath away the moment they met. Here, in his arms, she allowed herself tofeel. There were no destinies or prophecies. She was a woman kissing a man who kissed her back with the same fervor. A man who, as she perched on his lap, clearly wanted her for who and what she was. There was no deception. There were no lies.
There was only truth and honesty.
She did not deny she wanted him, too. Nor would she deny that for herself anymore. When she broke the kiss, as he gazed down at her with fire in his eyes, she knew exactly what she wanted.
“Malcolm?”
“Aye, lass?”
Oh, how she liked when he called her that. It was a leap of faith, telling him what she wanted. She wasn’t the kind of girl to do that. But here, now, in his arms, she took a deep breath and said what she wanted.
“Take me to bed.”
A sexy grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Aye, lass.”
He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and then she knew she would be lost to him for the rest of the day. Gently, he placed her on the bed. She sat on the edge, and held her arms out to him, inviting him to stand in front of her. When he did, she slipped her hands under his thick tunic, up and over the hardened muscles of his chest, over the sprinkling of coarse hair that sent a tingling sensation through her.
Chloe tipped her head back to look up at him. When their eyes met, she was acutely aware of the deep desire and need sparking in his eyes. It sent her senses reeling. At that moment, she decided there was no other man for her. No other man who made her feel so alive. No other man who caught her when she fell.
His hands slipped into the length of her hair—she had refused to braid it like her sister, preferring it long and loose. He seemed to like that as much as she liked him running his fingers through the long locks. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him, and leaned into his hands.
