“I dinna mind your smell,” he said with a grin, and meant it. “Covered in barn muck, I’d still find ye beautiful.”
“Ye’re mad.”
He shrugged, shooed Milla to lie down by the hearth, and then gingerly crawled over her, careful not to disturb her ankle, his thighs on the outside of hers, his hands pressed into the mattress beside her shoulders.
“I am mad for ye, Fiona MacBean. When I thought I might have lost ye…” He choked on the last of the words. “I never want to wake to find ye missing. I never want ye to be in danger again, and I know that is unrealistic in the world we live in, but I’d have gone to the edge of the earth to find ye. So, nay, a wee bit of boot smell is no’ going to push me away. And if I dinna kiss ye right now, I’ll regret not having tried for the rest of my days.”
Brogan leaned lower now, his lips brushing hers, and she tilted her face up to meet him. Saints, how he loved kissing her. Delicate fingers brushed his ribs as she wrapped her arms around his middle, tugging him closer.
“Kiss me until I forget,” she murmured.
“I’ll kiss ye until ye only remember the feel of my lips on ye,” he replied.
“Aye. Lips…” She slid her tongue slowly over his lower lip.
Brogan growled and kissed her deeper, claiming her, showing her just how much he wanted her, and forcing them both to forget the precarious moments of the past twenty-four hours.
“I want ye to make love to me,” Fiona said. “But only if ye want to.”
Brogan pulled away, staring into her violet eyes. “Ye know what that will mean.”
“Aye. And I can understand if ye dinna want to.”
“I do,” he said. He wanted badly to make her his forever. “I told ye I love ye, and I meant it. I want ye to be mine forever.”
“Forever,” she mused, her arms tightening around him. “I like the sound of that.” She smiled up at him, that same shy smile he’d seen earlier, only this time instead of ducking her head away, she met his gaze full on. “I love ye too, Brogan.”
The words melted right into him and lodged in the center of his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t draw a breath. Since when had words had the power to undo him?
But those words, coming from her… She loved him.
Brogan kissed her, all the emotion he felt welling in his chest coming through his lips as he claimed her, loved her.
“I could die a happy man right now for having heard ye say the words.” Brogan wasn’t a romantic, nor was he sentimental, and yet in this moment, with his heart pounding and Fiona in his arms, there was no stopping the words tumbling from his mouth.
* * *
They’d lain in bed together before. This wasn’t something new. And yet it was.
Fiona stared up into Brogan’s eyes, filled with love and desire, melting into a powerful haze of what felt like hope. As though they’d wake tomorrow and all the pain and torment of days past would fade away.
She knew that was silly, unrealistic, and yet Fiona couldn’t help but see a light of hope in Brogan’s gaze. With her arms around him, she hugged him closer, kissed him harder. Wanted to give him all of herself. Wanted him forever.
“Dinna die, Brogan,” she said. “I’m no’ certain I can live without ye.” She shook her head, curled her fingers through his hair. “I dinna even know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, ye burrowed yourself into my heart.”
He nibbled at her lower lip and gave her a roguish wink. “As long as I live, I swear I willna die.”
Fiona laughed. “Make love to me, ye fool.”
“I plan on it.”
Brogan kissed her again, harder, more demanding, more filled with primal need, and her body answered the call as she tugged at his shirt, and Brogan finished the job, yanking it over his head. He rolled them to the side and undid the buttons on the back of her gown with nimble fingers that skimmed her warm, smooth flesh.
Brogan kissed her neck and slid his lips over her shoulders as he bared her skin. Inch by inch, his lips traversed the length of her arm as he peeled away the gown. Shimmied the fabric over her hips and down her legs, and tossed the whole contraption somewhere on the floor.
Fiona tugged at her stays, reaching behind for the ties and failing. Brogan rolled her onto her belly, straddling her thighs with his strong legs, and kissed her back while slowly unlacing her stays. But even as the tightness ebbed, she found it harder and harder to breathe. Gasps and pants and moans were the only thing leaving her lips as Brogan kissed every inch of exposed skin.
He slid her stays from beneath her, tossing them to the floor, and then slid the chemise up her back, running his finger along her spine. And then his lips. His tongue. He traced every vertebra until she could scream from the pleasurable torment.
He paused, drawing in a deep breath, his fingers tracing over the bruises from the ropes. “I would kill them all over again if I could for doing this to ye.”
“It doesna hurt, I swear.”
“Tell me if it does.” Brogan kissed the places that had once ached.
Then came her drawers, his fingers dancing over her hips as he slid them down, revealing her buttocks to his view. Lips touched her bare bum, and then a little nip at the cheek. He slid the drawers to her knees, and she wriggled to get them off as he peeled them the rest of the way.
She tried to roll over, wanting to feel the hard length of his body on hers. To feel her breasts rub over his chest, but he held her in place, pinning her gently with his warm weight. She felt the scrape of his breeches on her bare buttocks as he pressed her into the bed, the hardness of his arousal, the brush of his lips on her shoulder, her ear.
“Ye’re so lovely,” he murmured.
He spread her legs with his, and she gasped as he rocked his hips against her rear. Palms danced over her hips, then her behind as he slid his fingers over the dampness between her thighs, finding the nub of her pleasure.
“Ye’re already so wet,” he groaned, a finger slipping inside. “I want to feel your pleasure.”
Fiona could barely breathe, tried to answer but all that came out was a moan as he stroked her with his fingers, pressed his arousal against her, rocking back and forth, his mouth at her ear, her neck, running his tongue over her back. Her climax was swift and powerful, and she arched her back, pushing her buttocks against him, her channel tightening around his fingers in trembling pulses.
“That’s a good lass,” he crooned. And then he was flipping her over, and she grabbed for the ties of his breeches.
“I want ye,” she said. “Inside me.”
Brogan groaned and kicked off his breeches, revealing the long, hard length of his cock. She gripped him, sliding her hand up and down his velvet shaft.