Page 22 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

"Really?" she asked, trying to sound casual and not betray the jealousy threatening to creep in. "What did they do when they saw yer scars?"

"Most just recoiled, unable tae hide their disgust," he admitted quietly, his eyes fixed on the fire before them. "Some of the women I have met even backed away, saying they didnae want tae be touched by someone so… monstrous."

"Monstrous?" Lara gasped, her heart aching at the thought of anyone labeling this gentle giant as such. "Darragh, how could anyone say something so cruel?"

"Because it's what they saw when they looked at me," he replied, his black eyes finally meeting hers, filled with sadness. "But ye… ye see past them, and for that, I'm grateful."

Lara reached out, her small hand finding his larger one and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Yer scars dinnae make ye monstrous. They make ye strong and brave, and any woman who cannae see that disnae deserve tae be with ye."

As she spoke, her cheeks flushed with heat, and she briefly worried he might see the traces of jealousy that lingered beneath the surface. But instead of probing further, Darragh simply clasped her hand tighter, his eyes never leaving hers.

In that moment, their gazes locked, and their hands intertwined.

"Tell me, Lara," Darragh began, his voice low and hesitant, "why dae ye nae fear me like the others? What makes ye different?"

Lara met his gaze, her blue eyes filled with conviction. "I trust ye, Darragh."

Suddenly, Darragh closed the distance between them, leaning in until their faces were mere inches apart. His eyes searched hers, silently asking for permission, giving her an opportunity to pull away—a chance to retreat from the intensity of their connection. But Lara found herself unwilling to step back, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

As if sensing her resolve, Darragh's gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for a breathless moment before he finally closed the gap, pressing his mouth against hers in a tender, yet passionate kiss. Heat raced through Lara's veins, igniting a fire within her she had never known existed within her.

Her hands found purchase in the rough fabric of Darragh's shirt, gripping it tightly as she surrendered to the intensity of their kiss. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies melding together as if they were two halves of a whole. The world beyond their embrace seemed to fade away, replaced by the pounding of their hearts and the taste of their shared desire.

And amidst the heat and the passion, Lara knew without a doubt that she had been right—Darragh was not a monster, nor was he a man to be feared. He was a warrior who had fought for his beliefs, who had carved a path through pain and suffering to emerge stronger and more resilient on the other side.

"Ye've nae idea how much I've been wanting this," Darragh murmured against her lips, his voice barely more than a whisper, but laden with emotion. His large, calloused hands found their way to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, while one hand daringly ventured lower, cupping her bottom firmly.

The boldness of his touch sent a shiver down Lara's spine, yet it didn't scare her. Instead, she reveled in the heat that emanated from his body, allowing herself to be drawn into the vortex of desire that swirled around them. Her fingers tangled in his long, golden locks, anchoring herself to him as if he were her lifeline in a stormy sea.

"I didnae ken meself," she confessed breathlessly as they broke apart for a moment, gasping for air.

A fierce, almost primal growl rumbled in his chest as he claimed her lips once more, their tongues entwining in a dance of passion that left them both breathless and aching for more. Lara's world narrowed down to the feel of Darragh against her, the taste of him on her tongue, the touch of his arousal mingling with her own.