A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,141

right now.”

He rolled over on top of her, settling between her legs, which she bent to accommodate him. “Does that mean you’ll be my wife?”

She hesitated. “We really could handfast, instead of pretending to. We’ve hardly known each other.”

“As you said, handfasting is little more than a temporary arrangement—or something like that.” His eyes darkened, sending a flush of longing through her. “And I wasn’t pretending. I want you, Elspeth. In my bed, in my life, in my heart.”

She’d been afraid to admit that she was falling in love with him. What if he didn’t feel the same? Yet here he was, proposing marriage, and not just because she was touching his sex. “Yes,” she said softly, joy and wonder filling her. “I’ll marry you. Now, will you finish?”

He laughed finally, just before he kissed her again. He took his time exploring her mouth as he pressed between her thighs. She still held him, and began to move her hand along his shaft.

He put his hand over hers. “Take me into you,” he said against her mouth.

Together, they guided him into her sheath, already sensitive from the pleasure he’d given her. He went slowly, filling and stretching her, until he was completely inside. She moved her hand to his backside, skimming her palm over him as he moved. Sliding from her, he pressed forward again, the muscles of his backside growing taut.

“I think I could just enjoy fondling your arse,” she said before she nipped his ear with her teeth.

“Elspeth.” He gathered her in his arms. “Wrap your legs around me—tight.” Then he truly began to move, his hips thrusting as he filled her again and again.

She held him close, kissing his neck and squeezing her legs around him as the release she’d found a short time ago began to coil within her once more. She hadn’t known what to expect before, but now she did.

“Come with me, Elspeth.” He kissed her as her muscles tightened again. He’d told her to fall, and she had. Now she dove off the edge willingly, plunging herself into the darkness, knowing he would do as he’d promised and catch her.

He moaned as he drove into her, then cried out. She dug her fingers into his flesh and clutched him as the storm raged within and around them. Eventually, the air calmed. He kissed her cheek, her lips, her neck, then slid from her body, rolling to his back.

Elspeth smiled as she brushed her hair back from her face. Before she could open her eyes, the sound of a door crashing open jolted her upright. Tavish did the same.

She looked toward the door to her chamber, but the sound hadn’t been that close. Loud voices filtered from somewhere downstairs—the common room, most likely, which was below her room.

Tavish leapt from the bed and ran to the window. He pushed the curtain aside and looked down.

“What is it?” Elspeth asked, sliding to the edge of the bed.

He swore, then came back to her and immediately began to dress. Elspeth left the bed and found her shift, then pulled it on.

“I’ll go investigate,” Tavish said after he had his breeches on. He dragged his shirt over his head. The sound of men yelling from the landing made them both freeze.

Tavish swore again, then raced for Lann Dhearg on the other side of the bed. “There’s no time. They’re here for the sword.”

He went to the window. “Thank God these are newer windows.” He opened the sash, then turned his head. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. Don’t tell them I’m here. I need to be able to surprise them.”

Fear sliced through Elspeth—not just for her, but for him. For Aunt Leah. For everyone at the inn. She ran to the window. “You think it’s the men who attacked Dougal Kerr?”

“I do. There’s a knife in my boot. Close this behind me.” He stared at her intently, a determined fire burning in his gaze. “Don’t be afraid.” And then he was gone through the window.

She wanted to watch what he did, but the sound of men outside her door made her close the window. Before she could find some clothing to throw on or grab Tavish’s knife, the door flew open, crashing against the wall.

A man came over the threshold. He was tall with dark, clubbed hair, though lank strands hung against the sides of his thin face. “Look here, I’ve found myself a right Scottish lass, haven’t I?” He spoke in an English accent—southwestern, if Elspeth had