Page 27 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

"I... I understand," Morag said softly, her eyes never leaving his face, and something in her tone made Colin think she might actually mean it. The way she was looking at him at that moment, like she saw the man rather than the mask, made him want things he had no right to demand for.

The ride back to the castle was quieter than their journey out, but the silence between them crackled with unspoken tension. Colin found himself hyperaware of Morag's presence beside him—the way she sat on her horse with unconscious grace, the way the afternoon light caught the gold threads in her hair, the memory of how she'd felt in his arms during their dance.

Hounds of hell, that dance.

His hands tightened involuntarily on the reins as he remembered every moment of it. The warmth of her waist beneath his palms, her body as she moved against him, and the smell of her that had driven him nearly mad with wanting. When she'd tilted her head back to look at him, her lips slightly parted... he had imagined what it would have felt like if he'd lowered his head only a few inches and kissed her.

Colin shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, grateful that his cloak hid his body's reaction to the memory.

Every few minutes, he found his gaze drawn to her profile—the determined set of her chin, the way she worried her lower lip when lost in thought. Once, she glanced over and caught him staring. Their eyes met for a charged moment before she looked away, a flush creeping up her neck that made him wonder if her thoughts were traveling down the same dangerous path as his.

The sway of her body as she rode seemed designed to torment him. Each movement reminded him of how she'd felt pressed against him, the way her curves had fit perfectly against his harder frame.

If ye dinnae want other men taking over yer duties as me husband, perhaps ye should perform them yerself.

Her words echoed in his mind with an entirely different meaning now than they'd had in the moment they had been spoken. Colin's jaw clenched as he tried to banish the images her challenge conjured—images of exactly how he'd like to perform his husbandly duties, of claiming her as thoroughly and completely as the primal part of him demanded.

When Morag's horse stumbled slightly on a loose stone, Colin reached out instinctively to steady her. Their hands brushed for the briefest moment, but it was enough to send fire racing through his veins. He saw her breath catch, saw the way her pupils dilated before she pulled her hand away.

The rest of the ride passed in a haze of want and restraint, Colin fighting a losing battle against thoughts of what would happen when they reached their shared chamber. By the time they arrived at the castle, his control was hanging by the thinnest of threads.

When they reached the chambers, the evening routine that had become familiar over the past few days resumed. Colin arranged his blankets on the hard stone floor, while Morag prepared for bed. But every movement felt charged with possibility, every glance weighted with the memory of their bodies moving together in perfect rhythm on the dance floor.

Frustration made Colin spread the wool blankets with more force than necessary

"Bloody hell. I cannae even sleep with me own wife on the same bed," Colins grumbled.

"What are ye mumbling about?" Morag asked, settling onto the edge of the bed to remove her shoes.

Colin glanced up at her, his expression rueful. " I cannae wait for the moment when I nay longer have tae sleep on this damned floor."

"Ye can keep wishing," Morag replied, though there was less heat in it than there might have been a few days before.

"Ah, but we had a deal, remember?" Colin straightened, stretching his back with obvious discomfort. "Ten days, ye said. We're halfway through now."

"Halfway?" Morag's eyebrows rose. "That's... optimistic counting."

"Five days down, five tae go," Colin said with something that might have been amusement. "I've been keeping careful track."

"Have ye now?" Despite herself, Morag found her lips twitching. "And what makes ye think I'll honor this so-called agreement when the time comes?"

"That ye're a woman of yer word," Colin replied simply, moving to the small table where his bottles stood. "And because this floor is destroying me back."

"Perhaps ye should have thought of that before insisting on this arrangement," Morag said, but her tone was more teasing than sharp.

"Perhaps I should have," Colin agreed, pouring his usual measure of the dark liquid. "But then, I've been accused of nae thinking things through properly."

Morag watched him lift the cup, curiosity finally overcoming discretion. "What is that potion fer? Are ye sick?"

Colin's hand stilled halfway to his lips, and the easy atmosphere between them shifted. His expression closed off, the familiar mask sliding back into place.

"Ye must be tired, lass." His voice was softer than it would normally be. "Go tae sleep. It's been a long day."

The dismissal stung, especially after the tentative connection they'd shared during the dance. Morag bit back the dozen questions that rose to her lips and turned away, pulling the bed curtains closed with perhaps more force than necessary.

She lay awake for a long time, listening to Colin's careful movements as he settled onto his makeshift bed, wondering about his potions and demons.

Morag stirred awake to the sound of dripping water. She turned in the bed, expecting to find Colin still asleep, but instead caught sight of him emerging from behind the privacy screen, wearing only his linen braies.