Page 146 of Laird of Steel
But then Gellir spotted her.
He halted mid-sentence, and his eyes quickly scanned her from head to toe.
His face slowly lit up with pleasure—as if they were the only two people in all the world.
Her worries suddenly vanished, and her heart grew light.
There was so much love in his eyes. So much happiness.
Isabel leaned near and whispered, “See? For you, he’s The One.” She gave Merraid a wink and skipped away like a butterfly leaving a flower.
All at once, with the way Gellir was staring at her, Merraidfeltlike a flower. As she walked forward, his adoration shifted ever so subtly into desire. His sparkling eyes were veiled by passion as he let his gaze roam the length of her.
She’d never felt more beautiful. More wanted.
That feeling persisted throughout the ceremony as they spoke the vows of marriage, gazing into each other’s eyes.
As he eased the ring onto her finger with suggestive grace.
As the priest blessed their union with words that sealed their fate.
By the time they were expected to kiss, Merraid’s pulse was racing. An exhilarating vibration sang through her body. And the heat engulfing her was not from the meager spring sun.
He captured her cheek in his sword-callused palm and tilted his head, lowering his lips to hers in the most gentle and respectful of caresses.
She knew that was proper. She knew their clanfolk surrounded them. Laird Deirdre was watching. The priest was watching. The King of Scotland was watching.
But she hadn’t kissed him in a fortnight. She couldn’t be blamed for wanting more than a quick peck.
Before he could slip away, she snagged his surcoat in her fists, crumpling the expensive velvet, and drew him closer. With a soft moan of need, she pressed his perfect mouth open with hers to deepen the kiss. Desire rose in her veins, and she fed it, letting her tongue play with his until she felt an urgent longing building betwixt her legs.
He groaned softly in reply, clutching her closer with an arm around her back, holding her against that part of him that hardened with need.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard rising laughter and the amused voice of the king.
“Perhaps you should make haste to your bridal chamber, Sir Gellir.”
Gellir abruptly broke off the kiss. For one awful instant, she feared she’d humiliated him. Made a fool of him in front of his clan and his king. She feared he’d never forgive her.
But he only gave the king a brusque nod. “Your Grace.”
Then he swept her off her feet, striding with her through the chuckling, cheering crowd, dissolving her fears.
The chamber was no doubt beautifully appointed. Perth was the residence of the king, after all. But as Gellir burst through the chamber door, carrying her in his arms, Merraid saw none of it. She only had eyes for her new husband.
He kicked the door closed behind them and murmured, “Och, wife, you are an irresistible temptation.”
She shivered with passion as he carried her toward the bed.
There was supposed to be an hours-long feast, followed by entertainments. Afterward, her new clan sisters were supposed to undress her with great ceremony and prepare her to be bedded by her husband.
That obviously wasn’t going to happen.
Gellir began ravishing her with his hungry mouth.
Breathless, she scrabbled at his surcoat, as if by sheer dint of will she could remove it.
He fell with her onto the bed. Kissing her. Caressing her. Groaning against her mouth.
