“He thanked me for giving him his son back.”
He pulled her into their chambers, shut the door, and pressed her up against it, so she was trapped between his body and thewood. “Now it’s my turn to thank you.”
She moved her hips against his, looking up at him suggestively beneath her lashes. “Thank me for what?”
“For giving me back my life.”
She smiled, her arms sliding slowly up his chest and around his neck, sending tremors of anticipation through him.
“I didn’t do that.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, loving the way her breath quickened, the way her lashes fluttered down, veiling the sage green of her eyes.
“Aye, ye did, mybaobh le suil uaine.”His hand went to the pendant around her neck, the peridot her mother had worn.
Isobel looked down at the watery green stone he held. “You’re not afraid to be wed to a witch? It did not go well for my mother.”
“Afraid? Woman, do you never listen to me? I’ve told ye, I’m terrified of you.”
She smiled, pressing herself against him. “I can tell. You’re absolutely rigid with terror.”
“That I am.” He lowered his head to kiss her. “But I think it will go well for you.”
