Page 41 of Her Accidental Highlander Husband

Oh, God. Here it comes—the disgust, the revulsion.

She tried desperately to cover herself, but he didn’t release her hands.

A familiar panic began to rise at being held. Her heart pounded, and she had to take a deep breath to remain calm. This was Cameron. He would release her. She only needed to ask.

She didn’t.

“Do they hurt you still?” His voice cracked as his gaze lingered on the scars across her breasts.

“No. They are years old,” she said, her face flaming.

“I wish the bastard wasna already dead so I could have the pleasure of killing him myself.”

The vehemence of Cameron’s vengeance didn’t scare her. He was a war chief, a fierce warrior who had killed men. Yet, she was not afraid of him. At least not at the moment.

“He was my enemy,” she said quietly, as she’d told Kenna.

“Aye. I hope someday you will stop having to fight him in your dreams.”

He spoke of her nightmares and the fear that still lived in her mind and in the way her body responded.

“I do not fear you, Cameron MacKinlay.” She lifted her chin to show her courage. It was the truth, she wasn’t afraid of physical harm.

However, she was worried about what would happen next.

He kissed her as his fingers loosened her braid and tangled in her hair. She reached up, placing her hands on his broad shoulders, his neck and shoulder muscles moving under her palms as he bent to kiss her. Such power harnessed by such a kind heart.

She gasped in surprise when he touched her breasts, lifting them into his hands and kneading them tenderly. It was…pleasant, but she felt acutely self-conscious about all the scars.

Then he went to his knees before her and kissed her stomach, her abdomen, and breasts, and her thoughts scattered in a flood of pleasure. He paid special attention to her left breast, where the nipple was twisted and puckered.

She’d expected him to be disgusted when he saw her naked, but his groan of need told her otherwise. He truly didn’t mind the scars. He stood, and the hardness of his arousal pushed against her through his kilt.

She didn’t want the barrier of fabric between them any longer. Reaching for his belt, her fingers trembled as she made short work of the buckle. His kilt dropped to the floor with a thump. She was both too afraid to look and too excited not to.

She glanced down and wished she hadn’t. She swallowed in alarm, but he just chuckled with a smug grin.

“Not only was he an evil bastard, but he was lacking as well, aye?” He shook his head. “Nay, I’m sorry. I don’t want thoughts of him between us. I’ll take care of you, Mari. I promise, we will get on well together, and it will be better than it ever was.”

She nodded in firm agreement. He didn’t know how right he was.

Now was the time to tell him the truth.

Chapter Sixteen

Cam was still berating himself for his smugness. But when he saw the surprise on Mari’s face when she looked upon him naked, he hadn’t been able to help himself.

He’d heard English men were hung like twigs, and her shock proved it must be so.

She pulled back to look down at him again and swallowed. He waited for her to speak. It was clear she wanted to say something.

Whatever it was, he would soothe her concerns so he could make her his wife in every way. He would care for her and see to her pleasure. Something it was clear her prig of a husband hadn’t done.

The scars on her breasts were made with a savage blade by someone with a callous heart. She’d covered her breasts again, and he thought maybe she was still self-conscious of her marks.

With his kilt already on the floor thanks to his wife, he tugged off his boots. He moved the candle closer, setting it on the stand beside the bed so the light splashed across his chest, enhancing his own scars.

“I am marked by battle as well. Our scars are proof we have faced horrible things and lived.” He took her hands and gently pulled them away to place them on his chest. Her cool skin caused a shiver against his heated flesh. “Don’t ever be ashamed. You are beautiful.”