Page 83 of My Highland Love

“Take a lowly servant girl to wife.”

He jerked his head up. “I wouldn't relegate anyone to that status, least of all, you.”

Her eyes unexpectedly softened. “I know, but that doesn't change the differences in our classes.”

“I care nothing for so-called classes. I care about living life.”

Her expression turned appraising. “Even you did not flout that responsibility. Didn't you marry out of a sense of duty?”

“Aye. Which is precisely why I will not do so again.”

Marcus crushed her lips to his. She didn't protest this time, and he slid her from his lap and onto the couch. Grasping her hand, he slipped it beneath his kilt and forced her fingers around his erection.

Elise started.

“Nae,” he breathed in her ear. “Do not run from me. God, you haunt me at every turn.” Releasing her fingers, he yanked her dress up and reached between her legs. “Your body responds to me without reservation. Let your heart follow. I promise, I will love you.”

He slipped a finger inside her slick heat. Her grip on his shaft tightened convulsively. Marcus drew in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth to keep from spending himself. He removed his hand and slid on top of her, pressing his lips against her ear.

“Guide me into you, sweet,” he whispered. “Let me show you how much I want you. Let me show you what love is.”

She did as he urged, and he caressed her with his movements, his body meeting hers, arching away, then gently thrusting again.

“Is marrying me so terrible?” he asked against her neck.

She breathed deep. “No, but after the fact you”—she gasped when he thrust with a quick motion—”you will regret being chained to me.”

Marcus laughed. “It will be the sweetest of tortures.” He drove deep again.

She cried out as her muscles clenched around him.

“It's not as if you need to marry me.” She blurted in a strained voice. “I have not withheld myself from you.”

Marcus halted. Bracing a hand on either side of her, he looked down at her. “I love you. I want you—need you.” He held her gaze as he moved slowly, nearly filling her, then thrust quickly and pulled back.

“I haven't left you,” she insisted.

“You withhold a part of yourself. If not, you would be dragging me to the altar.”

Elise reddened.

“You don't trust me.” He kissed her ear.

She shook her head. “I cannot believe we are having this discussion in the middle of… that is, I can't believe we are-are doing this in the middle of a disagreement.”

Marcus chuckled. “'Tis a new experience for me, as well. But, if we must disagree, this is a most pleasant way to do so.” He slid his hands beneath her thighs, coaxing her legs around his waist. “Aye.” He buried his face in her hair at the nape of her neck and drove into her. “I will protect you.” He cupped a breast—she was breathing hard now, she wanted him—needed him.

He thrust quicker. Her breathless response told him she neared her pleasure. “You will be my wife, my marchi—”

“Your servant girl made mistress of the manor,” she said.

Marcus jerked, his thrust going hard and deep. Elise gasped. He remained inside her, full to the hilt. “Why did you allow me to touch you?” he demanded. “Don't say it is because I am lord and you are servant. We both know better. I have the power to care for you, protect you.”

At last, uncertainty shown in her expression.

“As my wife, your security is assured. No Campbells, or anyone else, can harm you.”

“Nothing is that certain,” Elise replied.