“You’re making me—” The protest died as his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue doing things that made coherent thought impossible.
She fisted her hands in the bedding, her hips lifting despite his firm grip, her entire body straining toward the pleasure he was building with devastating skill. When he slid a finger inside her while his mouth worked magic above, she shattered, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her.
He gentled her through it, his touch easing as she came down from the peak. When he finally lifted his head, his grey eyes were nearly black with desire, his lips wet with evidence of what he’d done.
“Bonnie,” he said hoarsely. “Ye’re so bloody bonnie when ye come apart.”
She reached for him, wanting his shirt off, wanting to touch the skin she’d burned for. “Your turn.”
But as she worked at his buttons, he caught her hands. “Wait.”
“Why?”
He stood abruptly, pacing to the window like a caged animal. She watched him, confused and still trembling from her release, as he ran both hands through his hair.
“Declan? What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’s wrong. Everythin’s—” He turned to face her, and the torment in his expression made her chest ache. “We cannae do this.”
“Can’t do what?” She pulled the bedding around herself, suddenly feeling exposed. “You just… we just started.”
“Aye, and it was perfect. Ye were perfect. But I cannae—” He gestured helplessly. “Nae like this.”
“I don’t understand.” Hurt crept into her voice despite her best efforts. “Isn’t this why I’m here? Why you married me? To produce heirs for your clan?”
His head snapped up, eyes flashing. “Is that truly what ye think?”
“It’s what you told me.”
“I know what I told ye.” He crossed back to the bed in three strides, looming over her. “And if ye still think that’s all this is, then it’s a good thing I stopped.”
“Then what is it?” She stood, keeping the sheet wrapped around herself. “Because you keep pushing me away every time we get close. You keep telling me not to have feelings, not to expect more, to remember this is just duty. So yes, Declan, that’s what I think because that’s what you’ve made very clear!”
“I’m a...” He caught her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. “A complete and utter fool who’s been lyin’ to himself and hurtin’ ye in the process.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m sayin’ I cannae take ye like this, with ye still thinkin’ it’s just about producin’ an heir. I need—” He stopped, jaw working. “I need ye to want this too. Nae the alliance. Just us.”
She took a step forward, breathing hard.
“You impossible man.” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “I do want this. Us. You. Just you. I have since our first kiss.”
A sharp knock at the door made them both freeze.
“Me Lady?” Betsy’s voice, muffled but concerned, called. “I heard shoutin’. Is everythin’ all right?”
Francesca and Declan stared at each other, panting, the moment shattered like glass.
“Everything’s fine, Betsy,” Francesca called, her voice remarkably steady. “Just… discussing clan business.”
“At this hour?”
“It’s urgent.”
A pause. “If ye say so, Me Lady. I’ll be in me room if ye need anythin’.”
Footsteps retreated down the corridor. The silence they left behind was deafening.
