“He needed the money,” she continued when a response didn’t come. Her voice was steady despite the underlying tremor. “And once the boy was born… I was nay longer necessary. In fact, I was a problem. Me brother… he’s nay from me mother. Me mother died when I was a wee lass. Her bloodline was higher rankin’ than me fathers.”
Darragh went completely still. The ease with which she seemed to accept her fate was horrifying. It was almost as if she truly believed that she was nothing more than her father’s bargaining chip. His stomach turned at the thought of someone viewingwomen, especially a woman as fiery and spirited as Amelia, as something to be tossed aside or sold when it suited him.
“I daenae think he thought about it much,” she continued, seeming unable to stop now that she’d begun. “It was just another transaction. The highest bidder won, and I was shipped off as if I were cattle. He dinnae even say goodbye.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to break the backs of lesser men. Darragh stayed frozen for a beat, the words echoing in his head with devastating impact. When he finally moved, the motion was abrupt.
He took a step away, then another. Turning, he saw a table and moved toward it. His hands landed on the edge, gripping on so tightly he was surprised the wood didn’t crack. His breath was tight as fury burned through his limbs.
Amelia watched him. He could feel her eyes glued to his back. Even with the audience, he was no longer in control. This anger didn’t feel like that of a laird correcting a problem. It was something far more primal.
“He sold ye,” Darragh finally gritted out, his voice low and dangerous.
“Aye.”
The response was small. There wasn’t any attempt to hide the disgusting truth of her reality. Her acceptance just made himmore furious. His entire body tightened, winding into a coil about to spring forward.
“I will kill him,” he stated, turning to face her, one hand still gripping the tabletop.
For a beat, the air crackled between them. His righteous anger was a physical presence, filling all of the empty spaces in the room. Then, all bravery and confidence, Amelia stepped away from the paintings and crossed the floor, coming to a stop in front of him.
She reached out, looking up at him through her lashes. The candlelight flicked across her features, giving the shadows on her face a featherlike appearance. When her hand landed on his chest, his senses heightened, snapping to her.
“Darragh,” she said softly, pressing her palm more firmly against him.
Warmth bled through the thin layer of his doublet separating them. She guided each one of his breaths in time with her own. The pressure decreased, and his inhale chased her contact. The pressure increased, and she pushed the air from his lungs.
“Ye deserved better than that,” he said quietly, allowing her calming touch to settle the anger into something manageable, something directable. Her fingertips dug into his skin, and when their eyes met, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Ye deserve everythin’ this world holds.”
The muscles in her throat tightened, her lips parting slightly. His hand rose, covering hers where it rested. A shiver she couldn’t hide ran through her as his thumb lightly brushed against her own. Her eyes darted from the point of contact to Darragh’s face. She didn’t pull away.
His own gaze dropped to her lips. In response, she stepped in closer. He stared at her pulse racing against her neck. Slowly, his hands slid to her waist. He dug his fingertips into the softness that had blossomed there. A beat passed. Then, he pulled her gently against him.
“Darragh,” she whispered again, her fingers curling into his shirt.
The slight trembling of her hands subsided as she felt the steadiness of his presence. All he wanted was her safety. He would do whatever it took to deliver it to her.
His hands roamed then, coming to rest at her lower back. He pulled her the rest of the way toward him. Her skirt rustled as she shifted closer.
As Amelia tilted her head up further, Darragh met her in the middle. Their lips collided, and he was overcome by the same sense of rightness he’d felt when they’d kissed twice before. They fit together perfectly.
Her soft lips became less hesitant as he took complete control. His tongue pressed against the seam of her mouth, and sheopened for him, letting him claim her. A growl slipped between them as he deepened the kiss.
He pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. With his eyes closed, he let her catch her breath for a beat. Then, his nose nudging against hers, he whispered, “Amelia…”
The next kiss he gave her was deeper, claiming her as his. She whimpered, a noise that shot through his entire body and landed in his groin. He pressed his stiffening length against her, continuing to greedily drink down each noise that escaped.
Deliberately, he shifted his touch down her thigh. Even through her gown, her skin was hot, and as he picked up her skirt, slipping his hand beneath the fabric, she opened her legs to him.
His fingertips brushed against her burning, wet heat. A full-body shudder tore through Amelia. Something between a gasp and a moan that sounded suspiciously like his name worked its way from her chest as she seized into him.
“I’ve got ye, lass,” he said, swiping through the evidence of her arousal more firmly. “I’ll take care of ye. I willalwaystake care of ye.”
“I ken,” she gasped, her hands gripping onto his biceps, digging into the muscle.
The words, though they were a breathless utterance, didn’t sound mindless. It was an admission that had been desperatelytrying to be heard. Whether she intended it to be or not, it was a direct acknowledgment of his intentions.
Pressing his fingers into her opening, Darragh kissed Amelia again. As he stroked her walls, she went slack against him. It was almost as if she were trying to get even closer.
