Page 42 of The Highlander’s Gypsy Temptation

When she heard the knock, Bran was the last person she had expected to find standing outside when she opened the door. It took every bit of will in Idalia’s body to stop herself from rushing into his arms. When their gazes locked, in that silent exchange, a thousand words of love and longing were spoken.

And now he was apologizing and explaining to her. Pouring out his heart to her. On the eve of my wedding! She needed him to use his words. He had to tell her exactly how she made him feel. If she was going to be condemned to a life of marriage to a man she did not love, the least that Bran could do for her was to tell her exactly how he felt for her. She needed him to admit his feelings, and know she was not insane. That she was not alone in this.

Bran leaned in closer to her, her fingers still holding his chin lightly. She bristled with anticipation as she saw the words forming behind his lips. She could feel them, hear them even, and they sounded wonderful in her ears.

“It dinnae matter,” Bran said instead abruptly, breaking his gaze with Idalia. “I-I’m sorry that I came here, I should nae have bothered ye.”

Idalia’s countenance changed from sorrow to anger in a flash. Did Bran really come here and say all he said just to repeat the same madness he had been telling her all along? She was done tolerating it from him.

She gnashed her teeth together as her face hardened into a steel mask. She glared hard at Bran with eyes like flint, and he shrank back in the face of her fury.

“So, why are you here? Eh? Did you come only to break your heart once again, the night before my wedding? If that’s what you came for, then I must apologize, for I cannot entertain you and that strange proclivity of yours towards enjoying pain and suffering. Leave, Bran. Now!”

Idalia made to turn around and walk away from him, but he grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her towards him.

Bran tried to embrace, but she pushed back against him, slapping him soundly on the face twice. Then a third time. His chiseled face felt like rock on her palm, and it stung her to hit him. She hit him again and again, and he made no attempt to avoid her attacks.

She felt on the brink of tears and tried to force away the downpour as her attacks lost all conviction. She felt weak, tired, and subdued. Bran pulled her into his arms as the sobs broke out of her, resisting her weak attempts to fight him off.

He held her tightly as she pounded her fist on his chest, her tears draining onto his bare shoulder, seeping down his skin and mixing with his sweat. Idalia cried quietly, choking and croaking as Bran held her firmly in an embrace, his face buried in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I did nae mean to hurt ye. I’m sorry, Idalia. Forgive me, please. I’m so, so sorry… I dinnae ken what is happening with me,” Bran apologized incessantly for several minutes, saying nothing else but how sorry he was.

Idalia tried and failed to stem her tears, and all she managed to do was cry harder than ever. Bran pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, and from that moment, it felt like there was liquid fire on her skin, coursing down her body like molten magma.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed as he kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry…” He kissed the side of her lips. “I’m so sorry…” His voice sounded like a gentle breeze blowing against a field of grass, soft and inviting on a midsummer’s night. Bran, with his long dark hair and piercing dark eyes, had always ignited a fire within Idalia's soul. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull between them, the way his touch set her ablaze, or the tenderness in his voice that melted her defenses.

He reached out, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of her arm, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through her veins. A soft sigh escaped her lips, betraying her desires. He turned her head gently towards him, and then planted a soft kiss—slowly and with all the care in the world—flush on the center of her lips.

Idalia melted into the kiss. She felt as if she had been waiting for that moment her entire life. She felt as if her life depended on that kiss. Nothing felt better, nothing felt more right in the world. She wrapped her arms around his neck and parted her mouth wider as his tongue went exploring in her mouth. She tasted the whisky and cloves on his breath, and took it all in, enjoying the mild intoxication.

Bran pulled out of the kiss suddenly, shuddering as he struggled to regain his breath. “I dinnae think we should be doing this,” he said, the desire in his eyes a stark contrast with the words coming out of his mouth.

“This will be the last time, Idalia.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“The last time…” Idalia echoed faintly, pulling closer into Bran and burying her lips in his again. She loved the lack of resistance she felt and gave herself to him completely. This was all she had wanted back then on the boat. All she wanted was to hold Bran like this and have him with her, even if it truly was the last time.

“Idalia,” he murmured, his voice husky with restrained passion. “We cannae. Tomorrow, ye are tae wed my brother. We must nae give in tae this temptation."

“But you would stand by and watch me marry another while your heart breaks in silence?” Idalia felt genuinely sorry for him as she saw a flicker of pain pass through his eyes. “I know you mean well, Bran, but I cannot deny what my heart desires any longer. Let me have this one night, to be close to you. To feel your touch…”

Bran looked at her, and Idalia could see how torn he was. Her heart soared with hope, but her mind warned of the consequences that lay ahead. She saw Bran’s resolve crumble as she stroked his cheek, her thumb gently caressing the lines of his face. It was a silent plea, a yearning for one stolen moment before the harsh reality tore them apart. Her heart ached for him, for them, and the weight of their unspoken love pressed upon her chest.

With a whispered confession, he gave in. “One night, Idalia. One night tae hold onto forever.”

As if the words had unlocked a dam, desire surged between them. Bran’s lips found hers in a desperate kiss, a merging of souls that erased all doubts and fears. Their bodies melded together, their movements fueled by long days of unspoken passion and longing.

The world outside ceased to exist as they succumbed to the fiery embrace. Idalia’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if to ensure this night would be etched into their memories forever. Every touch, every caress, every whispered plea spoke of love denied, love unleashed, and love that would forever haunt their souls.

Idalia felt more alive than she had ever felt in her life. Bran wrapped his arms around her waist, and his fingers traced around her loose shift, feeling her soft body underneath the thin clothing. He undid the straps behind her neck, then lifted the shift up over her head.

Idalia shivered as the cold air bit into her bare skin. She blushed as Bran took a step back to regard her. His eyes worked slowly up her body, greedily drinking in every exposed bit of flesh. His gaze settled on the small tuft where her thighs met and he breathed in deeply, shuddering as he did so.

“Ye are beautiful, Idalia,” he said in a tone of pure amazement. “I always knew, but this is more than I could have ever imagined. Come.”

Idalia loved how he spoke about her. She stepped into his arms again as he walked towards her. He met her lips up with a sweet kiss and she savored the taste of it. She loved how his bare skin felt against hers and pressed deeper into his embrace.