“Ye are mine,” Brodie whispered reverently against her skin.
“And ye are mine,” Moira responded softly, guiding him to bed with care for his fresh wound—a testament to their fragile peace.
The tension between them was palpable as they sat across from each other at the small table. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across their faces, highlighting their raw, undeniable attraction.
She took a sip of her wine, her lips lingering on the edge of the glass just a beat too long. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized by the way her tongue darted out to catch a stray droplet. He shifted in his seat, feeling a sudden, insistent heat low in his belly.
He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “You know what I want to do to ye right now?” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.
She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Tell me,” she breathed, her eyes locked on his.
He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over her knuckles, sending a shiver down her spine. “I want to show ye just how much I want you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She bit her lip, her breath catching in her throat. “Is that so?” she whispered back, her own desire rising to meet his.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “I want to kiss ye until you’re breathless, until you’re begging for more,” he continued, his voice growing more urgent. “I want to explore every inch of your body, to discover what makes ye moan, what makes ye tremble.”
She let out a soft gasp as his hand moved up her arm, tracing the curve of her shoulder before coming to rest on the nape of her neck. “And what if I say no?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
He leaned in even closer, his lips just a hair’s breadth from hers. “Then I’ll spend all night convincing ye otherwise,” he murmured, before finally closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
The newlywed’s passionate embrace deepened as Moira ran her fingers through Brodie’s dark hair. His strong hands roamed her body, tracing curves he had only dared dream of touching before tonight.
Moira pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed. “Careful, me brave warrior,” she whispered with a playful smile. “You’re still healing.”
“For you, me bonnie lass, I can endure anything,” Brodie murmured, gently kissing the soft skin of her neck. Moira sighed with pleasure, tilting her head to give him better access.
Their wedding clothes fell away piece by piece until there was nothing left between them but heat and desire. Brodie gazed at his new wife in awe, marveling at her wild beauty.
“You’re perfect,” he breathed reverently.
Moira smiled, a blush coloring her cheeks. “As are you, me husband,” she whispered, her hands exploring the hard planes of Brodie’s chest, mindful of his bandaged wound.
Brodie gathered her in his arms, the warmth of their bare skin igniting sparks of passion. He kissed her deeply, pouring all his love and longing into the caress of his lips. Moira responded with equal fervor, her body molding to his.
Gently, Brodie laid her down on the bed, hovering over her. His dark eyes glittered with desire in the firelight. “I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he confessed huskily.
“As have I,” Moira breathed, pulling him down for another searing kiss. Her fingers danced over his back, tracing the scars that told stories of battles past.
Brodie pressed his body against hers, the heat between them rising with each fervent caress. His lips traced a path from her mouth down the graceful column of her neck. Moira gasped as he found a sensitive spot, arching into his touch.
His hands skimmed over her breasts, thumbs brushing her peaked nipples as she shivered with pleasure. Brodie took his time worshipping her body, paying reverence to every freckle and curve.
Moira’s own hands were not idle. She explored the hard planes of his warrior’s physique, fingertips gliding over ridged abdominal muscles that quivered at her touch. Lower still, she grasped him, stroking his hard length. Brodie groaned, momentarily overtaken by the sensation.
“Moira, lass, ye undo me,” he rasped.
Brodie captured Moira’s lips in a searing kiss, his ardor raging like wildfire. She returned it fervently, fingers tangling inhis hair as she pulled him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.
His calloused hands roamed her body, mapping every curve and hollow. Moira gasped as his fingers found her most sensitive places, stoking the flames of her desire to new heights. She arched into his touch, silently begging for more.
Brodie needed no further encouragement. With a soft growl, he positioned himself at her entrance. Their eyes locked, speaking volumes without uttering a word—love, trust, commitment, passion. Then with a powerful thrust of his hips, he joined them as one.
Moira cried out, overwhelmed by the exquisite fullness of him inside her. Brodie stilled, allowing her a moment to adjust to his size. He peppered her face with gentle kisses, whispering sweet Gaelic words of love and devotion against her flushed skin.
When Moira’s hips began to undulate beneath him, Brodie took it as a sign to move. He withdrew almost completely before surging forward again, starting a rhythm as old as time itself. Moira met him thrust for thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him impossibly deeper.
Their coupling was as wild and untamed as the Highland moors—a clash of lips, limbs, and heated flesh. Brodie drove into her with powerful strokes, spurred on by her breathy moans and the rake of her nails down his back.
