Page 89 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“Deadly,” he confirmed. “Ye dinnae need to move. Between ye and meself, I’m quite comfortable wi’ ye in me lap like this.” He ran a finger down her spine to emphasize his point, enjoying the way it seemed to make her shiver.
She gave him that strange look once more, then slowly reached down for the book. His eyes were drawn to her chest as her bodice fell open, but he forced them back up again. He needed to see her face.
“Is there a marker in these pages?” Magnolia asked, holding it in both hands while he secured her in place by holding on to her waist. “It feels rather heavy in the middle.”
“I dinnae ken,” Nathair replied a mite too innocently. “Why dinnae ye take a look?”
She opened the book to the middle and gasped. “Nathair…what is this?”
The way her eyes widened, the way her lips parted, and her skin flushed, was almost too much. The way she jumped in surprise made him sure he’d done the right thing, and the anticipation of victory had never tasted sweeter. “It’s called a luckenbooth,” he told her. “Dae ye ken what they are?”
Magnolia slowly picked up the brooch and laid the book on the table once more. It was about the size of a silver merk or maybe a little bigger, carefully cut in the shape of a heart. He’d considered gold, but he’d chosen silver in the end, enjoying the way it shone against Magnolia’s preferred blue-toned clothing.
It was relatively simple, without any of the embellishments that many people were using on their luckenbooths these days. It was merely a heart entwined with another, with tiny letters engraved along the sides.
Nathair held his breath as Magnolia read it aloud in an adorable attempt at a Scottish accent.
“Nae borders can withhold between our minds, an’ hearts, an’ souls,”she quoted. Her hands shook slightly, and then those impossibly blue eyes were staring into his once more. “Nathair…”
“Magnolia,” he answered in a low voice. His every nerve was on edge, waiting for her answer, needing to hear it from her lips.
“Are…are you asking me to marry you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as though she was afraid talking too loudly would ruin it for everyone.
“Aye,” he said. “Will ye be me wife, Magnolia? Will ye be another maither for me daughter? Will ye come an’ serve me people as Lady MacFoihl?”
Magnolia didn’t say anything for a long time.
Too long. Am I wrong about a’ o’ this? Have I ruined it a’ forever?
Then, slowly, and with near-flawless pronunciation, she said, “Chan urrainn do dhuine 'sambith seirbhis a dhéanamh do dhà mhaighstir.” When he didn’t respond straight away, she said, “Did I say it correctly? I’m sure that’s how Ewan taught me to say it…”
“Naebody can serve two masters,” the Laird translated, staring at her in wonder. Catrina had been a wild fae creature the world could not contain, and here was Magnolia now, an angel from above come down to bless him with another chance. “Are ye sayin’ aye? Ye’ll wed me?”
Magnolia laughed, placing the brooch carefully down on top of the book on the desk. “I am. I am, I am, I am.” She threw her arms around his neck. “It will be complicated, and there are many things I must consider, but do you know, I can’t imagine any future where I do anything other than live it as your bride.”
He moved first this time, crushing his lips to her own, tasting success. Nathair helped her remove her bodice as quickly as she could, then lifted her, her legs still wrapped around him, off his seat.
They stumbled back a few steps, and then he perched her on the desk while he desperately ran his lips and tongue down her neck, her exposed breasts.
She let out tiny mewls of satisfaction at each flick of his tongue against her hard nipples, and when it got too much to bear, his mouth left her chest and shot straight back to her lips, his hands replacing them at work. He worked her breasts as she started to pull off his shirt, only letting up to help her with his arms and returning to it while she fiddled with his trews.
He felt it when they fell to the floor, but he could barely even notice, feeling nothing but her skin against his skin, how her nails dug into his back and her legs wrapped around him, how he wanted nothing more than to lay her back and—
But then her bare foot shot out and gently pressed against his chest. “Oh, no, My Laird,” she said with a teasing smirk. “No, no.” She pushed slightly with her leg, and he tripped backward, stumbling back onto his chair. She slid off the desk, kneeling at his feet.
Nathair’s heart started to hammer wildly as she stared up at him from between his legs, hunger and love and everything in between swimming in her eyes.
“If you are to beMyLaird, then I would learn to serve you equally,” she whispered. She slowly, slowly ran her fingers up his thigh, kissing and nibbling lightly where her fingers had already brushed.
God almighty, this is what heaven feels like.
Nathair’s breath sped up. This was something Magnolia had only done a few times before, he knew that, but she had proven a willing and exceptionally adept student. And it seemed that she remembered all of her lessons as she cupped his lower region and held his member firmly with the other hand.
“Magnolia,” he groaned while she lowered her lips gently over the tip.
She started slowly, and then she began to move, a little more quickly, taking more and more of him, her hands and her mouth working together as she took command of giving pleasure.
He growled and tried to reach for her breasts, desperate to share some of this intensity with her, but she slapped his hands away, gentle but firm, then returned to her work. So instead, he gripped the side of his chair, watching as her head bobbed up and down, watching as she made his entire body sing.
