Page 72 of Bride of the Mad Laird
He groaned. “Lyra. If ye wish to leave Dùn Ara and return tae the MacInnes lands and take yer rightful place, I’ll dae everything in me power tae see ye safely there.” He glanced away momentarily, gathering his wits, and turned back to her. It was time he unburdened his heart.
She nodded gravely, meeting his eyes. Yet the fact that she did not pull her hands away gave him a sliver of hope.
“I understand. I am grateful fer everything ye’ve done tae protect me. And I am grateful that ye’ve offered me a choice tae go or stay.”
He shook his head. “Mayhap ye dinnae understand, me lady. I dinnae wish ye tae leave me. Me whole heart profoundly wishes fer ye tae stay beside me as me wife.” He shook his head, trying to make sense of what he wanted to say to her.
“I’ll nay beg ye tae stay, fer I understand ye long fer freedom. But I dinnae think me heart can stand it if ye are far away from me. Me spirit lifts each morning when I see ye again, I long fer the moment when ye are by me side. At night when I lie in me bed, me body burns fer wanting ye.”
A smile appeared on her face, her eyes softened and he felt something pass between them, a stroke of magic that bound them, spirit to spirit.
“I cannae bide another minute waiting fer yer decision Lady Lyra. Ye are the wife me soul longs fer. I care naught fer the Council and whatever they wish, I care naught fer the Laird Alexander’s threats tae ye, I ken in me heart the simple truth. Ye are the only lass I will ever love and desire.”
Tears sprang into her beautiful green eyes and his heart sank. She was shaking her head preparing to refuse him.He released her hand and drew in a sharp breath, steeling himself for the words he was certain she would utter.
“I’ve been thinking of naught else but the offer ye made tae take me tae me clan,” she began, her eyes misting over. “I have come tae understand that ye are nae prepared tae use me the way yer Council wishes, as a way of gaining more lands and power.”
He huffed. “Well, lass, I’m glad ye’re able tae see reason at last.”
“Ye offered me me freedom, and that meansalmosteverything tae me.”
He breathed out slowly, letting the air seep from his lungs. Did he dare hope?
“So, there is something else that means more?”
Now she was smiling, a wide smile that gave his heart a wrench.
“’Tis ye, Tòrr. Ye have come tae mean more tae me than even me freedom and me lands. I’ve come tae trust ye wi’ me life and ye have become more precious tae me with every passing day.”
He grinned. “’Tis a great joy in me heart tae hear those words.” His senses were reeling. “I can scarce believe it. Are ye saying ye’ll agree tae our marriage?”
She gave a shy nod. “Indeed, I am agreeing tae wed wi’ ye and make me home here at Castle Dùn Ara. We can then find a way to sort the situation with me clan, and perhaps visit.”
Soaring somewhere above the clouds, he let out a wild, jubilant whoop.
Eyeing him askance, Lyra held up a finger to his lips. “Dinnae be too confident of me devotion. If I am displeased wi’ ye, I might yet change me mind.”
“Dinnae tease me, lass,” he growled, “orImay change me mind.”
“Ha.” She snorted. “I dinnae believe ye.” Then she met his gaze, her green eyes serious as they met his grey. “One thing I am certain of, Tòrr, is that ye are a man who is true tae his word.”
He laughed, a great belly-laugh of delight as his happiness ran free like a river overflowing its banks.
“Ye are tae be me bride, Lady Lyra MacInnes, and tomorrow Father Pádraig will publish our bans. We will wed after the third time the banns are read, in two weeks from that day.”
He seized her in his arms, lifting her from the floor and twirling her so that her golden hair floated around them and the skirt of her red dress flew up above her knees.
She shrieked, and he finally placed her, unsteadily, on her two feet before him without releasing her from his arms.
Her body was warm and soft as he held her tight, her breasts crushed to his chest, her heart pounding against his. Her alabaster skin was like silk beneath his fingers as he traced the creamy curve of her throat to the hollow of her neck.
He was helpless to resist her perfect, unspoken invitation as she turned up her face, her eyes dark emeralds as they met his gaze. He bent his head in desperate longing for the taste of her moist, plush, lips.
She sighed as his mouth claimed hers. His tongue toyed with her bottom lip and then, with a tiny sound in her throat that made the blood roar in his temples, she parted her lips. Their tongues joined in a sensual dance, every second piercing him with burning darts of pleasure that shot like arrows to his ever-hardening shaft.
He was lost.
She filled his senses: the sweet scent of her in his nostrils, the softness of her molding to his body, the silken touch of her under his fingers, the tiny sounds issuing from her throat, the feel of her hands tangling his hair.
