His face was tense and strained. He held her gaze as he slid into her inch by wicked inch.
It started to pinch. Her body tensed. He was wrong. She couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t fit.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.
He sensed her sudden misgivings. “Only a minute, Flora.” He looked into her eyes. “Trust me.”
Their eyes locked, and something intense passed between them. She nodded, too moved to speak. He held her gaze as he pushed a little deeper.
Her heart hitched. The poignancy of the moment blocked out the pain for an instant. Finally, with one thrust he sank deep inside her—so deep that it felt as though he’d touched her heart.
She winced with the knife of pain and resisted the reflexive urge to push against him. He held perfectly still, allowing her body to adjust to the invasion.
He kissed her again, tenderly and with such raw emotion that the pain was all but forgotten.
And when he started to move, all she could think of were the exquisite sensations rocking her body.
He started slowly, pulling in and out of her body in a sensuous rhythm, allowing her to savor every powerful inch of him. Each stroke was like a caress. He made love to her with a heart-wrenching tenderness that was all the more surprising coming from this rough, rugged Highlander. Never could she have imagined this.
But soon it wasn’t enough. She knew he was holding back, and like him, she wanted everything.
She kissed him harder, the way he’d taught her to do. She clenched his back as her legs wrapped around his buttocks and she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts.
Relishing the increased frenzy of his thrusts, knowing that it was working. His hands were rough on her body, the hard calluses providing exquisite sensation as he crushed her breasts in his hands. He was losing control. Mindless with passion. For her.
It was rough and raw and absolutely perfect. He slammed into her harder and deeper. The intensity shook her to her core. She felt the pressure build inside her, felt the quivering that was even deeper and more powerful than before.
She started to shatter, breaking apart in thousands of tiny pieces like glass. And then, amazingly, so did he. With one last thrust he sank deep inside her and cried out as the force of his release surged through him and into her.
He collapsed on top of her. But Flora was so weak, her body so heavy, she barely noticed the added weight.
He rolled to the side and was so quiet for a moment, she thought he’d fallen asleep.
She didn’t know what to say. Their bodies, it seemed, had said everything.
He took a lock of her hair and slid it through his fingertips. Suddenly self-conscious, she felt her cheeks heat. Feeling oddly vulnerable, she didn’t trust herself to look at him. Not sure what it would reveal.
“We’ll be wed as soon as the banns can be read.”
Chapter 13
“What?” Flora asked, shock surely written all over her flushed face.
Lachlan rose up on his elbow to look at her. A lock of hair slumped across his forehead. Her heart squeezed. He was so incredibly handsome and strong. His rugged face was relaxed for once, although the slightest hint of a frown had appeared between his brows. “Our marriage, of course. It was understood.”
Recalling his words, she could see how he might have misconstrued her agreement.
When she didn’t respond, he added, “I suppose there wasn’t much of a proposal.” He held her gaze with a moving intensity, a look that was possessive yet tender. A look that made her breath hitch. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Flora MacLeod, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She couldn’t prevent the reflexive spike of happiness. For a moment, she was tempted. She’d tried to guard against it, but she could no longer deny her feelings for the gruff Highlander. He was nothing at all like the sort of man she’d imagined herself marrying, yet his appeal was undeniable.
He seemed in earnest, but all was not as it appeared; of that she was sure. He wanted her, if only she could be surewhy.Her mother’s warnings and the situation with Lord Murray had conspired to make her proceed with caution.
She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “I…I don’t know what to say.”
“‘Yes’ would seem appropriate.”
His voice held the slightest hint of an edge. She studied his face intently, wishing she could see inside his head. He seemed to be waiting patiently for her answer, but he wasn’t patient at all. He was tense, held too still, though he wanted her to think otherwise. “Why is marriage so important to you?”
