Page 16 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
Now that Ciara was in front of him, that slightly ill feeling Magnus had in his stomach was replaced with the lust she inspired.
Subconsciously, Ciara brought a finger up to her lips. Magnus followed the motion of that finger closely. Were her lips as soft as they looked? What he wouldn’t give to replace her finger with his own—or better yet, his lips.
Would she bring to their kiss the same passion that she brought into his study? He was desperate to find out.
Magnus stood right across from her now, and by the way her breathing had quickened, she was aching for him as well. Her chest strained against the dress she wore—such a pretty dress it was. Had she put that dress on for him? He wanted to drag his finger across the neckline and feel her chest heave up and down.
How would she react if he reached through the small distance between them and dragged her against him? He would be doing them both a favor, ending this torment.
Instead, Magnus gripped the edge of his desk behind him in an attempt to keep his hands to himself. Ciara had told him in no uncertain terms what she expected from this arrangement, and he would not “force her into any activities,” as she had put it.
He had to know for sure that this was what Ciara wanted. He’d told her what she needed to do—she would need to beg him. He tried to shake himself free of his lust, but the way his betrothed was looking at him was making that nearly impossible.
“I dinnae ken, but I expected some greetin’,” Ciara finally replied weakly, her earlier anger gone.
“Ye expect a lot of things, for someone who just wants to do as she pleases,” he breathed, his face mere inches away from hers.
Ciara’s pupils and her flushed cheeks were telling him one story, but her words and her actions were telling another.
She claimed she wanted independence, yet she barged in here demanding he treat her like his wife. He had never expected—neverdreamed—that she would miss his presence or demand it. Did she want him more than she claimed? The look in her eyes right now said that all she wanted were his lips.
“That’s a fair point…” Ciara relented.
Magnus saw the moment she realized what she had done, for her face creased with righteous anger. Not that it did anything to curb Magnus’s lustful thoughts, though.
“But ye were the one who wanted me here in the first place. Ye suggested we get to ken each other!” she exclaimed.
That was still true, Magnus very much wanted to get to know his betrothed.
“Aye, I did, and we will.” He smirked. “I will expect ye in me chambers tonight, and we can really get to ken one another.”
7
That command rang in Ciara’s ears. She continued to hear that gruff order even as Magnus moved back to sit at his desk and dismissed her. Even as she walked down the hall away from his study, she was in a daze, thinking about those words.
A large part of her wanted to be angry at his presumptuousness, but she couldn’t deny the way she’d loved his demand. And how badly she wanted to obey him. Her cheeks were still warm from the memory. She subconsciously brought a palm up to feel the heated flesh when she almost ran right into the blonde-haired man she saw at Magnus’s study earlier.
He was another warrior-type, but Ciara had never seen anyone with Magnus’s size. This man’s build was maybe closer to Alexander’s. She knew size wasn’t everything, for Alexander was one of the best warriors in Scotland, but she couldn’t deny the sheer impact of Magnus’s body.
Fear was a powerful emotion, and just seeing a man like Magnus in battle would certainly strike fear.
“Me Lady, we didnae get a chance to formally meet, but I am Ewan MacIntosh, the Laird’s man-at-arms,” the man said with a respectful nod of his head. His eyes scanned Ciara from head to toe—not leery, just very watchful.
“Aye, very nice to meet ye. I’m Ciara… the Laird’s betrothed…,” she replied. The word felt strange on her tongue, but subconsciously she preened over her relation to Magnus.
“The future lady of the castle! Well, I must thank ye for agreein’ to this solution for the war,” Ewan said earnestly. “It means a lot to our people.”
“Aye, mine as well.” Her cheeks flushed at the praise. “Me faither’s people, I should say.”
Clan MacLeon were her people now. Whether or not they accepted her, that was the truth. It was another reminder of all that had changed in such a short amount of time.
She didn’t know if Ewan’s opinion really echoed the opinion of the clan, or if he was simply expressing his own feelings, but the earnestness with which he spoke struck her. Maybe in time, people could welcome her here, despite the clan she came from.
“I should really be gettin’ back to the Laird,” he said with another smile.
Ciara nodded, and he headed back down the hall towards the Laird’s study. She was left thinking of her future position here as the lady of the castle. Ewan had given her hope that she could make a difference in Clan MacLeon, just as she’d done at home.
She wondered what Magnus would think of her job… and that brought her right back to thinking about the dark-haired man himself. She wondered if he was sitting in that grand chair in his study and thinking of her as well. Maybe imagining their impending night together.
