I suppose I knew why he would not take me fully, asI knew by now exactly what it was that I wanted him to do. It was an activity, after all, for a marriage bed. But our own circumstances, it seemed to me, were unusual. What we hadalready donewere activities, too, that were reserved for a marriage bed. And every one of them the most sublime experiences of my life, in equal measure. I didn’t know if Wilkie would marry me—he had mentioned his intention to do so, but fleetingly, and had never repeated it—or if he would even be allowed to, if he wished it. His duty might steer him, by necessity, to one of the heiresses who fought for his hand. Those were rivers yet to cross.
Here and now, I knew whatIwanted.
I had already resolved not to live without him. It mattered not whether he owned me now, or later. In my heart, I was his already.
I wanted to give myself to him. I wanted him to take me and fill me. I wanted to feel him inside me, deeply. The thought, to be sure, was intimidating. Thesizeof him. I wasn’t sure how we would fit together. But I knew enough about the pleasure he was able to unrelentingly give, and I wanted more of it. I wanted more ofhim.
I began to move a little, inching my way higher, as I lay underneath him. I arched my hips toward him, until I could feel his hardness pressing against the skin of my thigh. The promise of him there, so close, was stunningly alluring. My burn was so fierce for him I thought I might spasm again from the mere possibility.
“Roses.” His deep voice sounded stern, questioning.
I moved farther, seeking, positioning. But Wilkie, as though reading my thoughts, flinched away from me, rolling off of me so suddenly and violently, he half fellfrom the bed. He grabbed a fur and wrapped it around his waist. Then he walked over to the fireplace. He gripped the wooden edge of the hearth with his fingers. The sight of those fingers and their brutal strength aroused me beyond belief, and his body, lit by the fire, was hard and sculpted.
His chest heaved slightly, and his breathing was uneven.
I worried that I had hurt him or angered him. He tugged at his hair with one hand, and I sat up, concerned by his rash behavior.
“I’ll not use you,” he said, staring into the fire. “I worship you.”
“Worship me now. However it pleases you. I am yours.”
His head flicked moodily in my direction. He didn’t answer me.
“Come back to me,” I said.
He remained frozen in place.
“I won’t touch you,” I promised. “I’ll heed your every command.”
Our heavy gaze connected. I was still secretly rippling from his touch.
“I want you to, warrior,” I whispered. “Please.”
“I cannot, lass. Not yet.”
“You cannot.” I remembered our first meeting, by the cave, and I mimicked his words now. “Why is this?”
“You’re too pure.”
His high-handedness irked me. I felt my brow furrow. “I’m not too pure.”
“You are. You’re exquisite. And innocent. I’ll not use you, Roses.” His voice was low when he continued, and I could hear there the note that I feared: the slightesthint of pain. And uncertainty. “I want to take you as my wife. Only then.”
I stared at him, and I could see him read the questions in my eyes. Was it true? Could it happen as he described it? And if wewereto be wed, what was the point in waiting for a wedding night? And why, then, was his voice inflected with hesitation?
A thousand questions swirled around us. But there was one utter certainty that outshone any of the buzzing difficulties: even if I was never to marry Wilkie, it didn’t change how I felt. I wanted him regardless. I wanted anything of him he would give. The blaze of that insight was almost more unsettling to me than any other.
I turned away from him, lying on my back and staring at the ceiling, frustrated and upset.
He returned to the bed and lay next to me. He grasped my jaw with his hand and faced me to him. “Iwillmarry you, Roses. You’re too beautiful to escape me. My heart can’t bear a single moment apart from you. Your body is sacred to me now, and I’ll worship you fully only when we are joined by wedlock.” He leaned closer, brushing his lips to mine in a slow, succulent sweep. “Until then, I will adore you every minute of the day. I will please you and soothe you every hour of the night. Will you marry me, Roses? Will you become my wife?”
It still seemed unfathomable that he was within my grasp, that I could keep my warrior as my own. I had a strong feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as he seemed to believe it might be. But now that I’d detected the less intimidating layers of Laird Mackenzie’s personality, I dared to hope it could one day be a possibility.
And I didn’t want to sulk or waste precious momentsof his loving. If Wilkie continued to give me the kind of pleasure he had so far given me for a thousand days and nights, and nothing more, it would be enough.
I returned his light kiss, holding my lips to his very softly. “Aye, warrior. I’ll marry you. And I’ll hold you every minute of the day and night, from this day, and every day.”
He smiled against my lips. “Roses said aye to me. My beloved is my betrothed.”
