Page 46 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

Darragh stirred as a sliver of moonlight cut across his eyes. He blinked awake, senses sharpening at the creak of floorboards under light footsteps.

There. A flash of ivory in the darkness. Lara, tiptoeing towards the garderobe in her shift, clutching it tight around her body. His heart thudded at the sight of her bare legs peeking under the hem with each step.

He watched, silent and still, as she fumbled for the door handle and slipped inside. The beast within him roared to life, craving her warmth, her scent, the softness of her skin under his touch.

Darragh rose and followed. By the time he entered the garderobe, she had retrieved a blue kirtle and busied herself with the laces of her shift.

Her eyes flitted to his in the mirror and widened. “Y-ye startled me.”

“My apologies.” His voice came out a rasp. He stepped closer, drawn to her as a moth to flame.

“I didnae mean tae wake ye,” she said as a flush crept up her neck.

“Stay.” He reached to brush a stray curl behind her ear. “I would love tae break me fast with ye this morning.”

She looked up at him through thick lashes, lips parting. He caught a hint of her quickening breath and the thrum of her pulse at her throat.

“As ye wish.” Two words, soft as a dove's coo—and his fate was sealed.

He smiled, a wolfish baring of teeth. The beast was sated, for now. “Good.”

Darragh drew Lara close, relishing her warmth, the rightness of her in his arms. He lowered his head and kissed her, a gentle press of lips that soon deepened. Her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders as she swayed into him.

When at last they parted, she looked up at him with eyes dark as a forest pool. “I didnae mean tae wake ye,” she said, breathless.

“A fine thing, that.” He nuzzled her neck, lips grazing her pulse point. “Else I wouldnae have this pleasure.”

A soft laugh escaped her. “Ye flatter me, Darragh.”

“I speak but the truth.”

She shook her head, a wry twist to her mouth. “In that case, I shall endeavor tae wake ye more often.”

“Aye, dae.” He stole another swift kiss. “Ye shall find me a willing accomplice in such mischief.”

A knock rattled the door. “Begging yer pardon, me lady,” came a muffled voice, “I’ve brought yer tea.”

Lara ducked her head, color staining her cheeks. Darragh sighed. The maid peered round the door, eyes averted from the intimate scene within. “Shall I set the tray here?”

“Aye. And send fer fresh water tae wash. We’ll break our fast shortly.”

“Aye, me lady,” the maid said, bobbing a curtsey before pulling the door shut behind her as she left.

Darragh gazed down at Lara, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “It seems we’ve given the poor lass a fright.”

“Och, dae ye think?” Lara bit her lip, though her eyes danced with mirth. “I shall have tae apologize.”

“Dinnae fash yourself.” He stroked a hand down her back in a slow, soothing caress. “She’ll soon grow accustomed to our affection.”

“Will she now?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Aye.” He bent his head to steal another kiss, this one lingering and sweet. “She has nae choice.”

Darragh drew back, admiring the flush that stained Lara’s fair skin. “Ye look beautiful thus, mo ghráidh.”

“Dae I?” She smiled, a shy and radiant thing that made his heart stutter.