Page 48 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
“Stern,” Magnus said with a laugh.
Ciara groaned. “She didnae threaten ye, did she? She’s even worse than Faither.”
He shook his head, still chuckling. “She cares about ye, that’s all.”
Ciara nodded but didn’t say anything else.
Magnus continued to hold her close, and he could feel her chest rising and falling with each breath. As they moved throughout the room, he could feel her breathing becoming heavier. Whether it was from the dancing or their proximity, he wasn’t sure.
“Should I wait for ye tonight, Me Laird?” Ciara whispered with a shy smile.
The question had him dropping his arms. He took a half step back from her so he could look at her. His jaw was tight, and he needed to know if she was serious, if that had been a genuine question.
She looked even shyer now, and his mouth hung open in surprise.
“I’ll keep me promise,” he gritted out, even though all he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder and make good on that offer. “I willnae do anythin’ ye dinnae want. Unless ye beg me, of course.”
Ciara laughed, dropping that shy expression. “I will wait for ye,” she promised.
It was close enough to a plea, Magnus thought, or at least it was enough of an agreement for him. But the thought of waiting for tonight, when his blood was already simmering in his veins, was inconceivable.
“Why wait?” he groaned.
19
“Why wait?”
His words had Ciara’s hands tightening around his neck. The whole cèilidh, she’d been imagining him whisking her off to his bedchambers to have his way with her.
After the way his eyes had tracked her during the group dance, she had finally worked up the courage to broach the subject oftonight. And now she wanted to wrap her legs around his body and have him cart her away.
“Come on,” he urged in a low voice.
“What about the cèilidh?” she whispered.
“They willnae miss us,” he promised, moving to grab her hand and lead her out of the room.
As the bride and groom, they would definitely be missed, but Ciara couldn’t find it in herself to care. She let Magnus lead her out of the Great Hall and pointedly didnotlook back to see if anyone in her family was watching.
Instead, she focused on the warmth of his much larger hand and the sure, confident way he walked. His pace never faltered or slowed. If anything, the closer they got to freedom, the more his pace quickened. Ciara had to force her shorter legs to half-jog in order to keep up with him.
That was the first time she’d ever thought of her legs as short. She was tall for a woman but Magnus… well, Magnus was tall for everyone.
They came upon a door off the hallway, and Magnus dragged her through it. Inside was a small sitting room, just as lushly decorated as his bedroom.
“Ye have a thing for velvet,” she teased and then gulped when his eyes trailed over every inch of the velvet gown she wore.
“Aye, I definitely do,” he groaned.
With one finger, he traced the top hem of her dress, right across her chest, which strained against the fabric.
“Such a bonnie lass,” he murmured. “Have I told ye how much I adore this dress?” he asked.
“I dinnae think so,” she stuttered out, the words catching in her throat as he ran his finger back over the hem again and moved impossibly closer to her.
“Well,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath tickling her, “I dinnae think I’ve ever seen anythin’ like it. It’s perfect for ye.”
“Kiss me,” she pleaded, desperate to feel his lips on hers again.
