breasts.
His fingers curled into the ribbons that tied her night rail closed, and he slowly unthreaded them, capturing her mouth with his again. The frenzied rocking of their bodies slowed, and her body pulsed around him with desperate need.
Velvet hot lips roved over her breasts until the fire of his tongue branded her nipples. Her fingers threaded in his hair, pushed and tugged all at once, uncertain if she wanted more or relief from the pleasure.
“Och, Jenny, ye feel so good,” Toran groaned against her flesh. “I missed ye.”
“Every second out of your arms has been a torment.” She couldn’t stay still, needed to move. She rocked back and forth, eager for more of the sensations the movement brought as his shaft slid in and out of her body. His fingers dug into her hips, willing her to stop, but Jenny couldn’t. She needed more.
Her hands anchored against his shoulders, her toes on the floorboards, she took control, rising up and down, rocking back and forth, finding a rhythm that left her moaning and panting with pleasure. She moved faster and faster, and Toran’s forehead fell to her chest, his groans a mirror to her own.
A hot bath, a warm meal, the safety of her keep’s walls, all were needs that had to be met—but this, their bodies together, the pleasure, this was a need only Toran could satisfy for her.
She nuzzled her way to his lips as they rocked, kissing him as frantically as she moved her hips. Those first bursts of pleasure rocketed her to the ultimate pinnacle of rapture.
Toran groaned against her lips, thrusting harder before he freed himself from her and let himself go, spending against the flat of his belly.
Jenny collapsed against him, her ear pressed to his heavily beating heart. “I love ye,” she whispered, curling against him. The words came naturally to her, not hidden or full of fear but the truth and an admission that needed airing.
Toran held her tighter. “Ye have no idea how verra much I love ye, lass.”
* * *
Toran couldn’t believe she’d said the words. More so, he couldn’t believe the incredible lurching in his chest at hearing them spoken.
She loved him. She’d come to him, made love to him. He tugged one of the linen napkins from where her snack had been set on the table and used it to wipe his seed from her skin.
“I want ye to be mine,” he murmured against her lips as he made a feast of her sweet mouth. “I want to be yours.”
“I already am,” she whispered back.
And he knew she meant it, but still, he wanted her for more than just kissing, more than just making love.
“When this war is over, say ye’ll be my wife,” he said. “Marry me.” It wasn’t a demand but a request.
She was quiet for a long moment, her eyes cast down, long fringed shadows on her cheeks from her lashes.
Toran pressed a finger to her chin and gently tilted her face up. “I dinna intend to take anything from ye, lass, only give ye all of myself. Raise a family, if ye’re willing. I just know that I love ye and want to spend the rest of my life seeing ye smile, fighting battles beside ye, making love to ye.”
“I want that too,” she whispered.
“Ye need not give up your vows or your place as laird. Allow me to stand beside ye.”
She bit her lip. Something was still holding her back, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt to think that she might not trust him enough.
“Ye dinna have to answer just yet.” He kissed her gently on the lips, hoping to forestall her denial. “But we canna keep this up, else I’ll think ye’ve been taking advantage.”
She giggled. “I, take advantage of ye?” There was mischief in her eyes. “Take me to bed so I can do it again.”
Toran growled low in his throat and reached forward to nip gently at her lip. “I am thoroughly debauched.”
He stood, lifting her with him and carrying her to bed. She laughed, head tossed back, the most beautiful sight he’d ever beheld.
Twenty-Five
Jenny bolted awake the following morning—except it was most certainly morning no longer. The sun beamed through the window of her chamber onto her bed, blinding in its winter vibrancy.
The spot beside her where Toran had finally slept was empty, and when she pressed her hand to the mattress, it was warmed only from the sun.
Tossing back the covers, she wriggled