Chapter Thirteen
Fiona McAfee stoodat a distance, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the training grounds of the McClains. A single strand of blond hair, rebellious as her spirit, danced upon her brow as her piercing blue eyes reflected the arcs of swinging swords.
“Again!” Alisdair commanded from the center of the men, his voice carrying over the din of combat. His gaze found Fiona’s—a silent acknowledgment of her presence.
As the men around him continued their dance of mock warfare, Fiona’s thoughts wandered, her lips moving silently in conversation with herself. She was tired of talking about wedding preparations. She’d already made these decisions for the day they were supposed to wed, and now she was having to make them all over again. Why couldn’t her original decisions for the wedding still hold true?
She knew well that Ailis, with her keen eye and zest for such affairs, would revel in taking over the reins of wedding preparations.
“Brother,” Alisdair called, his tone slicing through the air with practiced ease. Brodie, with the poise of an archer even on foot, approached, his eyes seeking instruction. “Take the men through the paces. I have a matter to attend to.”
Brodie nodded, his demeanor calm as a still lake, his dark hair tied back in solemnity for the task at hand. There was trust there, a silent language spoken in the briefest of glances and the subtle shift of responsibility from one pair of capable hands to another.
With a final nod, Alisdair withdrew from the field, his movements deliberate, every step a measured advance toward Fiona. The world slowed its breath, the clamor of training fading into a distant thrum as he approached her. Fiona watched him come, her heart beating a rhythm akin to the warriors’ drills, yet her posture betrayed none of the tumult that stirred within her.
“Ye find escape in the spectacle of battle, Fiona?” Alisdair asked. His low rumble was rich with the promise of shared confidences.
“Escape? Nay,” she replied. Her reflective tone belied the storm of emotions that played behind her stoic facade. “Merely seeking solace in familiarity. ’Tis a comfort to see life continue unabated, as decisions for the morrow are made without my hand.”
Alisdair’s eyes captured hers in a moment of vulnerability. “Then perhaps ye’ll allow me to offer a different kind of solace, away from prying eyes?”
Alisdair extended his hand. Without a word, Fiona placed her own in his. Even as she did, she knew her father would be displeased if he caught her. But at that moment, it was a great deal more important to caress Alisdair and be caressed by him than try to avoid her father’s wrath.
They wound their way through the maze of tents and supplies, slipping past the vigilant eyes of the guards with the ease of shadows.
“Are we daring too much?” Fiona whispered, not wanting to be caught.
“Mayhap,” Alisdair conceded. “But what is life without a measure of risk?”
They delved deeper into the woods, where the clamor of the keep was muffled by the dense embrace of the forest. Here among ancient trees, they found a haven untouched by duty’s call—a rock veiled by overhanging branches and the dappled shade they offered.
“Here, we are but man and woman,” Alisdair murmured. “Not pawns in the game of clans.”
Fiona’s breath caught as she gazed into his eyes, seeing there the reflection of her own yearning. She allowed herself this moment, this sweet surrender to desire, as if the world beyond these trees ceased to exist.
Seated upon the stone, Fiona sensed the solid weight of him, exploring the contours of his broad shoulders through the fabric of his tunic. Alisdair returned her fervor, his fingers threading through her hair, releasing it from her braid to cascade down her back.
Their lips met in a kiss that was passionate and thrilling to them both. He eased her onto his lap, stroking her back, one boldly coming around to cup her breast and toy with the nipple he found there. “The days leading up to our wedding are taking much too long,” he whispered against her lips.
Their kiss deepened, a dance of longing and urgency that spoke volumes of the desire they shared. Fiona’s hands roamed over Alisdair’s warm chest, memorizing every ridge and muscle as if committing them to heart. His caress ignited a fire within her, a blaze that consumed any doubts or fears, leaving only the unquenchable yearning for more.
Alisdair’s devotion was obvious in the way he held her, not with possession but with care, as if she were a precious treasure to be cherished. His lips trailed a path of scorching kisses along her jawline, down her neck, igniting a trail of fire. Fiona arched into his caress, gasping raggedly as she surrendered to the heady rush of sensation that enveloped them. She could feel the bulge of his member pressing against her from under his plaid, and she thought how easy it would be to lift both of their plaids and join together.
The world around them faded into insignificance as they lost themselves in each other. Their bodies moved in perfect sync as if they were two halves of a whole, destined to intertwine in a dance as old as time. The rustle of leaves above them whispered a secret melody.
For Fiona, every caress from Alisdair felt like an awakening, igniting a passion within her that she had long kept dormant. With his calloused hands, he traced patterns of desire along her skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. As his mouth found hers once more, a fierce and unrelenting hunger rose within her.
She responded in kind, her kisses a symphony of longing and love, telling him without words the depth of her emotions. Their connection transcended the physical, delving into the realm of souls intertwined, bound by a bond that defied the constraints of duty and expectation.
The world beyond their secluded haven ceased to exist as they continued rubbing and kissing one another, laying bare their desires and vulnerabilities in the shared intimacy of that hidden sanctuary. Fiona’s hands trembled with a mixture of anticipation and raw emotion as she sought to convey what words could never truly capture.
Alisdair’s gaze held a fierce determination yet softened by the tenderness reserved only for her. In that moment, he was not just a warrior burdened by responsibilities. He was a man laid bare before her, offering himself.
As if guided by an unspoken understanding, Fiona traced the lines of his face, memorizing every contour with a delicate caress. Each mark told a story of battles fought and hardships endured, but to her, they were the map leading to the core of his being. In her eyes, those scars were not signs of weakness but proof of his strength.
Their breaths mingled in the space between them. Alisdair’s chest beat thunderously beneath Fiona’s fingertips, a steady drumming that reverberated through her and called to her. In the quiet of that secluded glade, she found a sanctuary where they could shed the expectations and burdens weighing upon them, embracing the passion that bound them together.
As Alisdair trailed fiery kisses down her neck, Fiona was ablaze. Her body arched instinctively into his, seeking ever closer proximity as if to merge their very beings into one. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent shivers of anticipation racing down her spine, awakening a hunger that had long simmered within her.
