Page 69 of When the Laird Claims
“Anyone would think I’m still a bairn, nae a maither in me own right,” she muttered as she wandered off into the keep.
Meanwhile, Sophie took Victoria’s father by the arm, the two of them slowly following in the footsteps of Arran’s sister. Which left Neil and Ruby, both of them staring at the returned couple expectantly.
“Go on, then,” Neil said with a smile. “Kristin will be back to hound ye if ye daenae go now, so ye’d best make yerselves scarce before she does. The lass is swift when she wants to be.”
Arran offered Victoria his arm and said softly, “Come, lass, let me help ye carry yer belongings back to yer chambers.”
She took his arm, her eyebrow raised as she whispered, “But I do not have any belongings.”
“Aye, I suppose ye daenae.” He smirked and pulled her forward; by the time they reached the main doors, they were running.
They did not stop until they came to the door of Victoria’s guest room, which, from now on, would permanently be hers. Somewhere that was entirely her own, to decorate and do with as she pleased.
“Welcome back,” he said, leading her into the room.
The moment the door closed, he kissed her.
Victoria clung to Arran, her mouth fierce and searching as she kissed him in return, unable to get enough of the man she loved. She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and ran her fingertips through his long hair, letting the wavy locks glide over her hand, and lightly raked her fingernails across his muscular back, feeling every sculpted line.
The way she had been raised dictated a life of reserve and propriety, but she cast that all out of the window as she kissed him harder. She was not a lady of thetonanymore, but a lady of Scotland, of MacLeon. No longer a Diamond, but granted the most precious title of all: the woman who had Arran Murray’s heart, and had given hers to him in return.
“I daenae ken what I would have done if ye’d truly left,” he murmured against her mouth as he walked her backward, further into the room.
She moaned in the back of her throat. “Do not even think of it, my love. I certainly do not want to.”
“So, ye’d rather be distracted?”
She nodded, smiling as she pulled his head down to kiss him with all the passion that she possessed.
A gasp parted her lips as her shoulders bumped against the wall, his tongue taking the opportunity to dance with hers, while his hands smoothed over the curve of her waist and gripped her hips. He pressed her into the wall, his own hips slowly moving in a way that stirred her up into a frenzy, awakening all the crackling nerves that worked together to create pure euphoria.
She felt the hardness of him, remembering her curiosity; there were things she had read about, of course, but, as she had learned, what was in books rarely compared to reality. Especially when it came to Arran, for the reality was so much better.
Arran pulled back for a moment, his eyes feverish with desire. “Before we continue, I need to ken that ye understand…”
“Understand what?” she murmured, her hands sliding over the muscle of his broad chest.
“That ye’re mine,” he replied with a sultry smile. “And that, when I told ye that I loved ye, it wasnae just a confession.”
She frowned a little. “I… what do you mean?”
“It was a proposal, love,” he replied. “I want ye to be my wife, if the idea isnae offensive to ye.”
Her heart soared, relieved laughter spilling from her lips. “Nothing would make me happier, my love. I would gladly be your wife.”
“Well then, wife, let me see if Icanmake ye a little happier,” he said, his mouth returning to hers in a fierce crush, as if spurred on by the force of his own gladdened heart.
As he kissed her, he reached for the wide ribbon resting below her bosom, untying it and dropping it to the floor. The rest of her dress followed, leaving her in nothing but her stays and a petticoat. Not one to be outdone, she reached for his shirt in return, pulling it free of the waist of his kilt, marveling at so much muscle as she brought the garment up and over his head, inadvertently revealing him bit by bit.
His bruises had faded, and his cuts had all but healed, which almost seemed metaphorical as she moved to undo the belt of his kilt. In turn, he easily undid the knot of her stays and pulled the laces apart to free her from the undergarment, all with just the power of his intuitive touch; he did not need to turn her around to look at all.
A few moments later, they were naked in front of each other, Victoria’s gaze flitting downward to see what she had only imagined before.
Oh heavens…
She doubted she had ever seen a more impressive, more intimidating sight, that hard flesh standing proud and enticing.
Before she could satisfy her curiosity with an exploring touch, he kissed her once on the mouth, then began to kiss his way down her body: a blazing trail down her throat and over her chest, his mouth pausing to close over the peak of her nipple, where a gentle suck sent her back into the realm of immediate pleasures. The rest was all anticipation that she knew he would not leave unsatisfied.
