Page 213 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Ainslee," he said, his heart beating fast. There was so much he needed to tell her. His hand fell to his pocket, where he felt where the posy ring was. He so much wanted to surprise her with it - but had she even noticed it was missing?

Confused, Ainslee turned towards him. Malcolm opened his mouth to speak to her. He wanted to propose again, properly, with the inscripted ring. On a whim, he brought it out, wrapped it around his finger, and clutched it tight. Then suddenly, his throat was dry.

Coughing, Mal's nervousness surged. Everything he had been about to say dissolved inside him. It seemed trite, unreal. With sadness, he realized for sure, he could not say it. Quickly, he stashed the ring away, fastening it back down into the back of his pocket.

Instead, he looked in her eyes. "I meant it," he said, suddenly. Ainslee looked up, as if she did not understand what he was about. Malcolm took her hand.

"I meant it when I said, I nae meant to go away...." he reached her with his eyes. Malcolm knew just then, that she believed him. Giving a little nod, Ainslee watched him carefully.

"I ken," she said, as he continued.

"I was taken, Ainslee, it took a long while until I kent who by,., but when I did, it made sense...," imploring, Malcolm gripped her palms maybe too tightly. Then, realizing, he relented, easing off in his touch.

Softly, Ainslee's eyes closed on him. "Bruce," she said, softly. "Aye, I ken, an' I believe ye..."

This was all that Malcolm had longed to hear. His heart almost flooded there and then.

"Thank ye," he said, caressing her hands. A strange rush whooshed at him. For a moment, he was so overwhelmed he forgot everything completely. "I wouldnae have left ye an..."

"I didnae think that...," Ainslee's voice came high and broken. It wobbled off into a silence, as she looked away. Deftly, he stroked her cheek, slowly bringing her around. With coaxing, she turned to face him.

"Nae think," said Malcolm, his palms sweating. He held her in his hand, and then leaned slowly forwards. Softly, he caressed her perfect cheeks. Ten years, and she was as soft as silk.

"...I didnae think I'd ever meet ye again... we'd nae..."

Malcolm put his finger to her lips, then replaced it with his own. Soft and deep, he kissed her. Shocked, Ainslee's eyes widened, but she did not stop. Instead, she slid her own hand around the back of his head, massaging his hair.

A sensual fire went off in Malcolm's head. The sweetness trickled down, almost immediately, igniting his belly, his thighs, his stomach, his loins...

"Malcolm," Ainslee sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. He stroked her silken hair, he had missed this. Ainslee's dark curly locks wound softly around his fingers. It felt good. But already, in her eyes there was regret.

Malcolm's heart shrank, as she pulled quickly back.

"Och," she murmured, straightening herself up. Malcolm's disappointment was palpable, however, he tried his best not to show it. Ainslee rearranged her hair. "I... we... shouldnae..."

For a minute, her eyes just burned, glowering in the half-light in front of him. He could feel her body heat, it was raw. He wanted to lean in, to kiss and hold her, but forced himself to stay there.

A small grin curved around Ainslee's lips. A sudden, impetuous light came into her eyes.

"Fasten up, lad," she said, smiling softly. She pulled at a hair wisping down into Malcolm's face.

Then, she peered forwards, delivering him a sensual kiss. Ainslee kissed deep, her tongue exploring him, gently running around his mouth. Malcolm held her still. This time he was not stopping, and for several minutes they stayed tight, pressed together.

"Mm," Malcolm murmured. He could barely breathe, but even so, he didn't want to relinquish her. After the last ten years, he never wanted to let go again. Tenderly, Ainslee held him, her sweet arms taking him in her warmth.

"Do ye remember the first time, here, in the shop...?"

* * *

Ainslee's heart burned. Everything was mushrooming. All these complex thoughts, the emotion. It was quickly becoming too much. Glowing by the fireside, Malcolm's energy seemed focused on her. There was something unnerving about it.

But in a good way. Malcolm's green eyes winked. "Remember, hen, how can I forget?"

He stroked her hair, and held her there, tightly in his arms. Ainslee giggled. For a minute, she worried. What if her father were to come in? But hearing his snoring, she relaxed. Leaning back, she was transported straight away to the same room, ten years ago.

Malcolm was visiting, on the pretext of ordering a candelabra for the keep. Quite why the son of the laird would occupy himself with such a mundane task, did not enter her father's head, who spent a disproportionately long time blathering on to Malcolm about just about everything apart from the task he had been asked to do.

Malcolm had endured her father's laborious lectures on the shoeing of a horse (again, nothing to do with the task in hand) with surprising grace. It seemed to take forever for him to leave the room, but finally when he did, they had just stood and stared.