His smile only grew at that, and he found he was laughing so hard he had to stifle his own joy. Isla, too, was giggling; she put her hands to her mouth so as not to wake the men and her former tutor who were just out in the next room over.
"Aye, or deer," he agreed. "Isla, I cannae say how happy tha' ye make me. Truly, when I'm with ye, it feels as if everything else doesnae matter quite so much. I used tae feel as though the world was a terribly vicious place and tha' I would never find happiness or comfort again. The way ye make me feel... I cannae say what it means tae me."
"Iain, I dinnae what tae say," she gasped. "Except tha' I feel the same way about ye. Back at home, I had always felt as though my father—Duncan—hated me. As I said before, he was never truly much softer with my other two sisters, but with me, it was like he held a special sort o' loathing for me. Now I know why; he must have hated his brother for being first in line for the Lairdship all o' his life. It makes sense why he would despise me so. I just wish I knew what my true parents were like."
"I'm sure tha' they would be proud of the woman ye have become, Isla," he said. "I know tha' I have only known ye a short time an'... an' not all o' it were good memories, but I hope tha' ye tha' I would give anythin' tae take back how I acted towards ye."
"Ye dinnae have tae apologize," she said. "I know now the grief ye were experiencin' an' I cannae say I blame ye for yer suspicions. I am glad, though, tha' ye came tae trust me."
"I as well," he said. "Lookin' back at myself, I cannae see how anyone could be aroun' me. I'm sorry I was so rageful an' hateful. The man ye first met wasnae the man I used tae be. I can only hope I can be who I was once again. With yer help, I think I can be."
Her smile softened until she was looking at him with what looked like wonder. Isla's eyes were searching, and he brushed her hair back, leaning down to press a kiss to the bow of her lips. He sighed, content, as she deepened it, opening herself to him and allowing his tongue entrance. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she turned further so he could better embrace her. Iain wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close to him as reality would allow. He pulled back to look in her bright cerulean eyes, awed over the depth of them.
Iain was surprised when Isla passionately pulled him in to kiss him again. She shifted until she was sitting upon his lap, writhing her body against his. The sounds she was making, needy and desperate, set his body alight, and his hands found themselves running up and down her sides, taking in her curves. He allowed himself to slip his hands beneath her dress, enjoying the way her thighs parted for him. His loins were stirring with every kiss, every touch. Iain suddenly could not get enough of how soft her skin was, and he wanted so much to press their bare bodies against each other.
He removed his hands from her thighs beneath her clothing and slid them up to her back. He unlaced the thin leather throngs that cinched the fabric together; as soon as he removed his fingers, Isla shrugged the dress over her head, baring her body for him. Her breasts were perfect globes, her nipples dark and hardened. He reached his hand up, cupping them, and let his tongue slide across the small, erect nub. She gasped as his fingers teased her left breast while his lips and tongue massaged the right, and she gasped when he grazed his teeth across the sensitive skin.
Iain felt his desire growing with each passing second. Isla's fingers were traveling past his shoulders and down his back to claw at the fabric of his shirt. She struggled to remove it, and so he sat up and tugged it off, tossing it in the corner of the small room. Her mouth was on his neck in an instant, nibbling and sucking at the crossroads of his neck and shoulders. He groaned, his hips thrusting up without meaning to. It was as though she knew exactly what he wanted before he even did, as though she could read all of his wildest desires like a book. Isla's hand reached between his legs, and his groan expanded until he had to bite upon his lip to stop it from escaping.
Her skin against his chest was intoxicating. Isla's breaths were coming in hot gasps of pleasure and desire, and Iain trailed his hands down against her hips. His fingers dug in, enjoying the fleshiest parts of her, and his eyes took in the milky white tone of her body. When he looked up, he saw that she was smiling, that sultry expression back on her face. Her eyes held a knowledge that drove him wild, and she reached below to tug at the drawstrings of his breeches. They came apart easily, and within seconds, she was stripping him of the final piece of clothing that separated them from each other.
Iain kissed her neck, biting at the creamy skin between her breasts. He could not get enough of the taste of her and of the passionate little cries that found their way out from between her lips. The swell of her breasts were too supple to keep his hands away from; the way her jet black hair tousled over her shoulders on either side made her look nearly ethereal. She let her hands rest on his shoulders, pressing him to the floor, and he laughed at the boldness of it. He looked at her, smiling at him from above, and for a moment, the air was sucked right out of his lungs. She was too stunning, too beautiful, and she was all his.
That revelation was worth more than gold to him. In this moment, he allowed himself to feel real and true joy, happiness that he thought would never come again. Isla represented more than just the healing of his trauma; she was the next page of his new life. She was everything that he wanted in a woman, and she continued to surprise him more and more.
Isla joined their bodies together, and Iain closed his eyes in pleasure. When he opened them again, he was sure he was dreaming that he could not have been blessed with this perfect and calming woman who quelled every ounce of rage that he had once thought permanent.
As the two of them became one once again, Iain told himself that he did not care what he had to do. He would not let her go back to that hateful, murderous man who did not see what a treasure his stolen daughter was.
Iain would fight for her, and he would die for her if he had to, but her safety and her happiness came before anything else.
* * *
Isla reveled in the pure and blissful pleasure the Laird brought her.
She had not been able to tear her eyes away from the man as he stared up at her. She saw a mixture of emotions playing in his face; there was wonder, pleasure, love. His expression sparked a glow inside of her heart that spread into a burning desire as she surrendered to the salacious sensations his body bestowed upon her own.
His hands were on her hips, fingers delving inward, grasping at the fleshiest parts he found there. Isla relished the feeling of his hands caressing her skin as though he could not get enough of her; she had never felt so protected and ethereal in all of her life. He looked at her as if she were something sent from the heavens, his eyes alight and wide. A smile touched her lips, one she was not able to hide.
When their two bodies melded together, she thought her vision was exploding with pleasure and color. Isla's lips parted, and she gasped, tossing her head back, her black hair trailing down her back. She placed the palms of her hands on the floor beside him, entangling her fingers in the sheets. Leaning forward like this allowed her to plant another kiss on his waiting, hungry lips and his hands reached up to stroke her dark tresses.
The feeling was just as world-shaking as she remembered of the loch. For one lengthy moment, Isla's mind could register nothing but the sensation of their bodies connecting. She closed her eyes, willing the moment to last forever, and instinctively moved her body against the hard muscles of his chest and stomach.
She gasped as his tongue slipped inside her mouth and massaged her own. He seemed needy for her, desperate to taste her again, and Isla had to admit she felt the same way. She could not get close enough to him, and she craved the warmth of his arms.
Isla stifled a moan, biting down on her bottom lip; the pleasure was created by a reeling sensation, making her feel as though she'd downed an entire bottle of wine on her own. It was wonderfully sweet and all too addictive. She felt almost as though she could stay here like this with him forever; the thought was incredibly tempting. Her hands drifted up to his shoulders and soft brown hair as she fell into his kiss again.
"Isla, I love ye," he whispered into her ear before trailing his tongue across the gentle, sloping curve of it.
Chills ran down her spine, and she did cry out then. She wanted to answer him, to tell him that she loved him too, but words were entirely unreachable. The Laird took a handful of her hair gently in his fists and playfully reversed their positions, laughing as he did so. She yelped in surprise, but then a laugh came tumbling from her lips as well. She looked up at him, watching as he took all of her body in his gaze. Isla saw the lust settle over him again, and a desperate eagerness began to fill her up entirely, from her head all the way to the tips of her curling toes.
Iain rested against her again, changing his position so that he could hold himself up with his elbow, his fingers splayed against his cheek. She felt him reaching down with his free hand so that he might enter her once again and adjusted her legs so it would be easier for him. She felt him at the center of her womanhood and trembled, then when he pushed forward, her eyes shut tight in ecstasy.
The Laird buried himself in her warmth, and Isla had to concentrate hard to push down her cry of passion. She heard a satisfied growl above her, a carnal sound that stirred her own desire. As she opened her eyes, Iain caught her gaze and the moonlight glinting in those honey-brown orbs. She reached up to lay a hand against the rough stubble of his cheek, and he sighed in pleasure.
Iain increased the pace of the movement of his hips until she was gasping with every thrust. Her mind was whirling; she felt completely dizzy with need and rapture. She felt as though he knew her every thought, as though her desperation for him were sprawled out for him to read. She could tell he took pleasure in how much she wanted him, and that fact only drove her closer to the edge.
Iain filled her absolutely. Her mind, body, and soul were completely his. Her thoughts were dominated by him; the pleasure he was bringing her would not be ignored. She found she could not get enough of the feeling of his skin against her own. With every gentle thrust of his body, he was tantalizing her, teasing her, and there came a feeling inside of her that was growing ever more insistent with each second.
