"You've never done this before, have you, lass?"
She shook her head, heat burning her face.
His grin slipped out a bit more, a glimpse of white teeth. Good heavens, he was even more gorgeous when he smiled.
"Would you like to?" His dark blue gaze dared her.
"Aye," she whispered, especially if it amused and aroused him as much as he appeared.
"All right then. Lift up a bit."
When she did, he positioned the tip of his erection at her entrance, then stroked her there. Need surged through her, making her arch her back and close her eyes.
"Aye, now lower yourself onto me."
She eagerly followed his instruction, and he slid inside. She gasped, unable to believe how amazing he felt. He grasped her hips on each side and helped guide her in the rhythm. Placing her hands on his hard chest, she raised and lowered herself. The waves of her hair fell all around her to brush over his chest.
"Aye, that's it,mo cridhe." Tangling his fingers in the long strands of her hair, he stroked her nipples. "Let go and ride me," he urged.
And she did. She allowed whatever inborn instincts she possessed to take control of her body. The hard length of him filling her, sliding deep, felt more amazing than anything and she could not get enough. She gasped at the sparkling sensations her own movements propelled through her body, from her toes to the top of her head.
Forcing her eyes open, she took in the intense way he watched her, his brows lowered, eyes midnight blue, his teeth gritted together as if the pleasure was near too much to withstand. The same way she felt. But looking into his fierce eyes as she rode him was the most erotic thing she had ever done. Such raw need written there, reflected back to her.
He growled and, holding her hips, thrust up into her fast and hard. Without warning, the pleasure exploded like colliding stars. Her strength gone, she fell and he caught her against his chest, continuing his wickedly divine thrusting. One last plunge deep and he shuddered against her, a savage growl rumbling from his chest.
He rasped a Gaelic curse. "You possess my soul. I swear it, lass."
Tears dripped from her eyes, but she knew not why. He was something she never could've expected.
"Are you crying?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Aye, you are. Did I hurt you?"
"Nay." She didn't bother to wipe her tears away. He'd already seen them.
"Why then?"
"Because I love you." Oh good heavens! She hadn't meant to blurt that out. But it was the truth and she refused to regret it.
He drew her to him and rolled her to the side until they lay face to face. "And I love you," he said, stroking her tears away with gentle fingers.
Joy erupted inside her like a fresh, gushing spring. He felt the same? How could she be so lucky? Someone above was smiling down upon her… someone who had guided her to Neacal.
While he dried her tears, his gaze searched her eyes. "When you're free of that beast, will you marry me?"
Her mouth dropped open. "How—?"
"Do not fash yourself over the how of it. I'll make it happen; mark my words."
"'Twould be my fondest wish to be your wife," she whispered, more tears burning her eyes.
A small grin quirked his lips. "And my fondest wish as well."
But how on earth could she get free of Blackburn?
Neacal didn't realize he'd drifted off to sleep in Anna's arms until a pounding at the door awoke him. "What the devil?" he muttered. "Who is it?" he shouted.
