Page 82 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
His fingers brushed her wrist, then slid upward, wrapping around her palm. His thumb grazed the back of her hand like a promise.
“I want to touch ye again, lass,” he said, voice low and rough. “And taste ye. And feel ye writhe under me mouth like ye did that night.”
Her stomach clenched, breath catching in her throat.
“But I willnae,” he added.
What?
“Nae until ye decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Whether ye will stay. Or go.”
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Amara’s chest squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe.
She opened her mouth, ready to argue, but a crackle of leaves behind them snapped her attention away.
A buck stepped through the tree line, antlers like polished bone, coat gleaming copper beneath the sun. It froze, ears twitching.
Rhys didn’t move.
Neither did she.
The animal stared at them for a long moment before slowly disappearing into the trees again, silent as smoke.
When she looked back at Rhys, his gaze found hers once more.
And her decision, whatever it might be, suddenly felt like the most fragile thing in the world.
“I’ll nae rush ye or try to sway ye to stay, lass. I’ll nae be able to forgive meself if I did either.”
“Oh…” Amara said, her lips forming around the argument she had.
But… I think I want him to sway me to stay.
But Rhys spoke first. “Now, come, let’s go,” he said simply, a grin on his lips and looking to the sky before his eyes falling back down to hers. As if knowing what she was about to say.
They walked back in silence, and for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
Amara kept her steps steady. Even as her heart thundered wildly.
At the base of the slope near the outer gate, he turned to her.
“Would ye come ridin’ with me tomorrow?” he asked. “Daisy’s itchin’ to show off again, and I think she’d like the company.”
The casual tone didn’t mask the meaning underneath. He was asking her to be seen beside him again. Asking her to be close to him.
She smiled. “I’d like that.”
They stepped through the gate, the keep rising tall ahead of them.
Just as they crossed into the courtyard, a guard in O’Donnell colors strode up, quick and breathless.
“Laird,” he said, nodding toward Rhys. “Ye’re needed at the training yard. The new lads are in the ring, and the captain’s askin’ ye to take a look.”
