Page 77 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
“I have time fer ye,” he said, stepping fully into the room. The air seemed to shift around him — warm, taut with tension, charged with the same energy that had followed them from the yard.
Tyra set down the comb, brushing a stray lock from her shoulder. “Time fer me?” she asked, teasingly.
“Fer ye,” he said simply, eyes darkening with something more intense than mischief.
He crossed the room with measured steps, narrowing the space until she felt the heat radiating from him. The tension was palpable, a charged wire running taut between them. Tyra’s pulse fluttered as his chest brushed against hers.
“Ye’ve changed,” he murmured. “Since arriving here, ye’ve… grown intae this place. Intae yerself.”
Tyra’s breath caught. “I’ve had a good teacher,” she said softly, thinking of the morning’s training – his hands steadying her, correcting her, guiding her.
Ewan’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I hope that is true. Otherwise, I fear I have guided ye too harshly.”
She laughed softly. “Too harshly?”
“Only in the sense that a skilled hand may bruise,” he replied, leaning closer. “Though ye have managed tae leave me both impressed and distracted.”
Tyra’s cheeks warmed. “Distracted?”
“More than ye ken,” he said, his voice dropping, husky with feeling. “Ye have a way of drawing me attention… and holding it.”
He reached for her hand, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. The touch was deliberate yet electric. Tyra felt heat gather low in her belly, a longing she no longer denied.
“Dae ye always speak in riddles or is it only when ye wish tae unsettle me?” she asked, teasing, her voice trembling.
“Only when I mean tae.” He gave a soft laugh, their bodies nearly touching, the air between them vibrating with unspoken desire.
Tyra tilted her head; her fingers brushed his chest. He caught her wrist gently, sending a thrill through both.
“Ye are… remarkable,” he murmured, voice low. “I have never kenned anyone like ye. Fire and grace all at once.”
She leaned into him. “Then dinnae leave me wondering what that means,” she whispered.
His lips brushed hers in a slow, deliberate kiss, leaving them both trembling. As they parted, the heat between them ignited in a flash of desire that was like thunder and lightning.
Ewan’s hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him. The press of her soft breasts, the beat of her heart, the warmth of her breath – all intoxicating.
“Ye are driving me mad,” he ground out.
“How so?” she asked softly.
“Ye ken what it is between us. It’s ye, all of ye I want in me arms.” he replied, husky with want.
They kissed again, both surrendering to the intensity, their connection forged through every glance, every touch. Tyrathreaded her hands through his hair, holding him as if their kiss would never end.
When they drew apart, breathless, the room seemed smaller, warmer, charged with their closeness.
Ewan rested his forehead against hers. “I cannae imagine a day without ye.”
Tyra pressed her lips to his temple. “Then ye must nae.”
They lingered, wrapped in each other’s arms. The castle’s bustle outside seemed distant, held at bay by the bubble of warmth they had created.
Finally, Ewan straightened, but his hands remaining at on her waist. “Taenight, the world can wait. Let us have this precious time together before whatever comes next.”
She looked up, her eyes as dark as moss, and rested her head against him. “’Tis what I wish. I’d nae have it any other way.”
Outside, the wind whispered around the towers. The loch shimmered with faint light, the scent of pine heavy in the air. For that fleeting, precious moment, all that existed was the two of them.
