Page 67 of In Bed with her Highland Foe

Neither one of them moved or said anything for a minute, both just panting as they looked at one another.

Gilchrist was the first to move. He loosened her hand from him then bent down toward her, cupping the back of her neck in a way she was discovering she loved, as he pulled her up to stand from the bed, and the two of them kissed, lips colliding together again. She gripped his biceps hard, using him to keep her balance for she was lightheaded after what they had shared.

As they pulled back from one another, resting their heads together, a sudden deep chuckle escaped him.

“What?” she murmured softly.

“How long?” he asked, still catching his breath. “Ye ken I have wanted ye fer years now.” He placed soft lips to her cheeks, then to her temple. “How long have ye wanted me too, Kyven?”

“Years,” she whispered back.

They laughed softly together, still clinging onto one another. Kyven half wondered if she did release him, would she suddenly wake from an incredible dream? But her body still trembled in the aftershocks of what they had shared, and there was now a dull pain in her core.

When she winced, he said, “the soreness will pass,” then drew her across the room, taking her by the hand to the basin of the water. With his hands on her waist, he lifted her to sit on the edge of the dresser, then took a cloth and started to clean off the signs of what they had done.

There were teasing touches, even promises of more touches when he cleaned her, making her tremble.

When they were done, they retreated to the bed, their bodies tangling together as they laid back on the pillows. They didn’t bother to pull up the sheets. They were completely naked, taking warmth from pressing their bodies together.

“Nay more secrets?” he asked, kissing down her neck, his lips soft.

“None,” she promised, arching her neck to allow him more access to her, raising her hands across his back. They embraced tightly, the softness and tenderness of their touches a strong contrast to the fierce passion they had just shared.

He leaned back, his gentle fingers brushing her shoulder, then past the side of her breast and down to her waist, pulling her closer to him.

She closed her eyes and buried her head in his chest, knowing this was one of the reasons that Gilchrist had her heart. He had a gentle quietness in him, a kindness, yet there was heat and fire in him too.

“I didnae ken ye had such fire,” she whispered in a giggle.

“Dae ye mind?” he asked, his tone deep.

“Nay. I love it.” She hesitated, close to saying that she loved him, though she just managed to hold herself back. He pulled her even closer into his chest, nuzzling her ear and pressing his lips into her hair.

“This fire,” he murmured against her hair, “if it ever gets too much, just tell me –”

“I ken.” She smiled into his chest. The fact he was giving her control was another testament to his kind character, though she could not imagine telling him to stop making love to her in such a way. If her body had had not been so sore, she would have gladly continued.

They laid there as the sun started to rise beyond the windows, the dark shadows turning to soft amber light. They kept whispering things to one another, as their fingers explored one another.

“The first time ye imagined it? When was that?” she asked after some exploratory questions, trying to find out exactly when Gilchrist had started to see her in such a light.

“I always thought ye were beautiful,” Gilchrist said quickly, resting back as she curled into his side. His hand drifted up and down her back, teasing her with a light touch. “Then one night, when Imogen was lady of the clan and ye came intae the library, livid at what she was doing, I saw the anger in ye. The wildness. The true heart.” His voice had grown deeper. “That was the first night I pictured us together on that hearth rug.”

“Oh,” she gasped at the idea. “Perhaps we could live out that fantasy on the hearth rug some time.”

He chuckled.

“Barricade the door, I will live out any fantasy ye wish.”

She nuzzled into his chest, scarcely able to believe the happiness washing over her.

Hang Laird Shay and the council. There was no chance she was going to marry Laird Shay now, not after what she and Gilchrist had shared together. She was still giggling into his chest when the steps creaked on the stairs.

“Wait,” Gilchrist froze, his hand stilling on her chest, his word firm.

She halted, not daring to move a muscle as the step creaked again.

“Someone’s coming this way.” He sat up, as she did too, looking around the room in fear.