by her beauty and the happiness that radiated from her. He’d assumed she exaggerated the significance of the rides. He thought it would be a nice outing, but she’d blossomed with fresh air and exhilaration.
“Yer wee beastie shall be embarrassed once more when Teine thrashes him,” Laurel teased as she spurred her chestnut gelding to go faster. She’d surprised all the Campbell men when her horse soon outpaced half of them. He was faster than every gelding Brodie’s men rode and at least half of the stallions. Riding at the front of their group, Brodie’s horse was the best within the pack, but Laurel’s expertise as a jockey ensured she won their races as often as he did. She and Teine won that day by a nostril. The climate had shifted in the fortnight and a half Brodie was at court, and the early autumn air pinkened Laurel’s cheeks and ears.
“You look like you belong among the fae,” Brodie mused. “You charm the animals into doing your bidding, for surely you must have tricked Lann into letting you win.”
“Letting me win? If your steed were as sharp as the blade he’s named for, perhaps he would cut through the wind faster,” Laurel teased as Brodie helped her from her horse. After nearly two weeks of riding out with the couple, the guards knew to look away. Brodie cupped Laurel’s backside as she rose onto her toes to meet his lips halfway. Their rides were the only time they dared indulge except for a brief kiss before they retired alone each night. Laurel reached between them and pushed Brodie’s sporran away, sighing as she felt his length rest against her mons.
“You shred my resolve, Laurie. I watch the joy you get from riding your horse and wish you were riding me,” Brodie murmured beside her ear. His provocative words made the ache between Laurel’s thighs become a low burn. She shifted restlessly as she looked into his soulful gray eyes. Kisses alone hadn’t nearly satisfied her curiosity. The first time she grasped his backside, Brodie had lifted her off her feet and nearly ran into the nearby woods with her. He’d growled as he kissed a blazing trail along her neck to behind her ear, making her shiver with arousal and the unknown. Her knees had buckled when his hand slid beneath her skirts, and his fingers slid along her seam. When his pressed his finger into her entrance, she’d gripped his leine and rested her head against his shoulders. But when a second finger entered her, and he worked the satiny skin within her sheath, she’d fought and failed to stifle her moans. Her hips rocked against his hand as he brought her to the brink and then pushed her over. The passion that simmered between them was rivaled by the affection they shared in the aftermath.
“And if no one were to know?” Laurel whispered. Brodie groaned as he fought against considering Laurel’s implications. He struggled each night that he left her on the landing to her floor, finding relief alone in his chamber. His men playfully jested that he should ease his bollocks at a tavern, but he’d pummeled one after another in the lists that day. His men discovered he found nothing humorous about their suggestion, nor would he entertain it. Instead, he remained in lust-filled longing, knowing Laurel suffered as he did. But he suspected she didn’t know how to ease the torment like he did. He eagerly anticipated teaching her, knowing there would be nights when duty forced him away from their home and their bed.
“Laurie, we have five days until they post the banns for the third time. We could marry that Monday,” Brodie suggested, then held his breath. They’d spoken of their desire for one another and how they might relieve it, but Laurel had yet to assure Brodie that she wished to marry him once they could. He hadn’t pressed her, standing by his pledge to give her time for him to court her. He was more convinced than ever that he’d been blessed with the right woman, but he wasn’t certain that she felt he was the right man for her. He would be heartbroken if she rejected him, but he would see her to wherever she wanted to make her life and check on her regularly once she was there.
Laurel glanced down at the Campbell plaids that draped over both of their shoulders. She’d taken to wearing Brodie’s clan pattern, even