Page 54 of A Highland Bride Taken
Campbell must have wanted to as well because in the next moment, his mouth descended on hers in a scalding kiss.
Mabel was temptation incarnate; he had known that from the moment he met her. But in recent days, that temptation had transformed from temptation to obsession. An obsession that haunted his dreams, making him spend half the time consumed by heated fantasies that involved him touching her again and kissing her with all the pent-up lust that had become a permanent part of his life.
His obsession with her was made worse by the fact that she was his wife. It was becoming difficult every day to remember the reason why he couldn’t touch her, why he could not make love to her the way every fiber of his being ached to.
His self-control had started fraying the moment he stepped into the study and saw her, so by the time they had ended up in the closet, he had no reserve to draw on to stop himself from kissing her the way he wanted to. So he had taken her lips with his, giving free rein to the hunger he had suppressed for long.
Even now, he teased her until she opened to let him in. He deepened the kiss, his tongue dueling with hers, as his hands roamed over her, enjoying her moan when he cupped her breasts.
He could feel himself losing control. He was seconds away from ravishing her in a closet. His desire was in control now, demanding that he take her, propriety be damned. It was thesound of little running feet outside the door that finally did the trick, allowing him to tear his mouth away from hers.
Mabel raised her dazed eyes to his, surprise blooming in their depths, and he bolted out of the closet, fleeing the room as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. Any second wasted, and he would fall back into her arms, and he would not stop until he had ravished her completely.
Once he stepped out of the room, he closed the door, leaned against it, and took deep breaths until his raging lust cooled.
“Uncle,” Connor squealed, tugging on his clothes, “ye have been caught.”
“Aye, lad,” Campbell said, smiling down at the boy, “I do believe I am.”
22
“Oh, Me Lady, ye look beautiful!” Heather, Mabel’s maid, cried, stepping back to admire her. “The Laird is going to be awed by ye.”
Mabel stared at her reflection in the mirror, nodding in agreement.
The dress her husband had ordered for her arrived earlier in the day, and it fit her perfectly. Although it showed off her cleavage and figure more than any other dress she owned, she did not mind.
It was a perfection of green silk, simply cut but trimmed with lace at the neck, sleeves, and edges. Heather had decided to try something new with her hair and twisted it in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.
Mabel wondered just how her husband would react to seeing her in the dress. She had not been as fancifully attired since theirwedding, as she had only ever favored simple styles. But looking at her reflection again as she rose, she decided she had been doing herself a disservice.
Perhaps she might tailor all her dresses to resemble this one.
Thinking of her husband now made her sigh.
They had both been busy with the preparations for the cèilidh over the past week. So, other than a few passing glances, they had barely been in each other’s presence.
She tried to deny that she missed him, but she actually found herself wishing for his comforting presence more often than she thought she would. At least this evening, she would get to spend time with him before the guests started arriving.
“Shall we go?” she asked excitedly. “I would like to see the boys before I head to the Great Hall.”
“Aye, Me Lady,” Heather said, curtsying.
The boys were dressed smartly and were happily chattering with their governess, who seemed to be much interested in what they were discussing.
“Talia,” Mabel called, announcing her presence.
“Me Lady,” Talia answered, rising from her seat to curtsy.
“Ye have done well with the boys,” Mabel praised.
Somehow, the governess had managed to tame their unruly curls into a more presentable style that Mabel was sure would be ruined before the evening’s end, and their linen shirts and kilts fit them well.
They looked so much like the Laird wearing his clan colors of dark green and yellow that she smiled. Yes, he would be pleased with their appearance, indeed.
“Should we go to the hall now, Me Lady?’ Talia asked.
“Aye. The children can play, but make sure they arenae out of yer sight.”
