Page 57 of His Forgotten Highland Bride

Ronan. The memories of the night before flooded her mind, bringing a smile to her lips until the whispering started again.

“I’m a-tellin’ ye, Mal, we should go get the axe and take down the door.”

“And I’m tellin’ ye, if you take an axe to this door, the laird will likely take an axe to you.”

“He’s not wrong,” Ronan whispered before kissing her temple.

She turned toward him with a smile. “We should at least knock and ask to see the mistress to be sure she’s not tied up.”

“Hmm… I might like to tie you up,” Ronan said. “Do you have any ropes about?”

She was not overly familiar with bedsport, but she could see why tying each other up might be fun. To torment the other by restricting their ability to touch. But alas, she had no ropes in their chamber.

“I suppose I should go to the door and tell them all is well,” Brenna said, though she didn’t wish to move. Even to appease her guards.

She’d relied on their thoroughness for the last few years to ensure her safety. And not long ago, being trapped in her bed chamber would have alerted them to the danger within. But there was no danger this day, far from it.

“I’ll take care of it.” Ronan cleared his throat and shouted firmly. “You on the door!”

“Aye?”

“Your mistress is well.” He squeezed her and whispered, “Well-loved.”

“If it is the same to ye, laird, we’d like to hear the mistress say so herself.”

“That’s it. I’m getting the axe,” Ronan grumbled but only snuggled closer to her under the covers.

“I am fine, Gabe. I don’t need anything.” Even conversing with them through the door when naked while Ronan nestled against her breast made her cheeks warm with a blush. One should not be forced to converse in such a state.

“Let’s not be hasty,” Ronan said and turned to shout. “Men. Your mistress is rather famished. Send for a tray, will you?”

“What, are we maids now?” Gabe grumbled from beyond the door. They had no idea of how easily they were heard.

Brenna giggled as the men stomped off, but her laughter was cut off in a gasp when Ronan stroked his hand up her thigh and over her heat.

“Again?” She could hardly imagine he had any strength left, even after sleeping the few hours they’d managed. She didn’t want to move.

“Can you still walk?”

“In truth, I’m not sure. I haven’t attempted to in many hours.”

“And I’ll see to it you won’t need to for many more hours.”

She’d remembered their first night together and how he’d woken her through the night to make love to her again until she was so exhausted she’d slept like the dead.

So still, she’d not roused when he’d packed and left her. That thought brought a shiver through her body and not the delightful kind that Ronan’s kisses inspired.

“What is it?” Ronan paused in his nibbling of her neck to look at her, concern evident on his face. She had no reason to worry he would leave her again. He’d said as much, and she decided she would believe him unless she had a reason not to.

Their bannocks and porridge were cold when they rose to retrieve them, but neither seemed to care as they dug in. Ronan had not been lying when he’d told her guards she was famished. She couldn’t remember being so hungry.

She could barely wait for Ronan to drizzle a bit of honey over her bite of pastry. When he spilled some of the honey on her hand, he watched her intently as he glided his tongue, cleaning her skin of the sticky sweetness.

From there, the honey barely made it to the remaining bread. They made quite a mess as they found other places to dribble and delight. When they were not caught up in passion, they napped and talked quietly. She coaxed more stories from him about his time in France, and he asked her about a few of the clanspeople he’d met.

For all they talked, they avoided some topics as if they weren’t yet ready to discuss them.

“Oh my,” she said when his stomach growled. “Have we spent most of the day in our room? We must dress and go down for dinner.”