Page 33 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

His hands tightened on her waist as she melted against him. Through the crystal-clear water, he could see the way her wet chemise clung to every curve, outlining the swell of her full breasts and the gentle flare of her hips. The thin fabric had become nearly transparent, revealing far more than propriety would allow, and the sight made his mouth go dry with want.

What are ye daein’ lad? Where are these emotions comin’ from? Ye are completely losing a grip of yerself.

"If it is," Colin said quietly, "then I'm afraid I'm losin’ badly."

"How so?"

"Maybe this time I'm the one being conquered," he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Morag's eyes widened slightly. Her fingers curled against his shoulders, her nails pressing lightly into his skin as if she was anchoring herself to him. Colin could see the conflict in her green eyes, the way she wanted this as much as he did but was fighting against it. Her breathing had quickened, matching his own, and when her tongue darted out to wet her lips, he nearly lost what remained of his control.

"That daesnae sound very Iron Laird-like of ye."

"Nay, it daesnae," Colin agreed, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. "But ye are beginnin’ tae have that effect on me. Makin’ me forget who I'm supposed tae be."

"And who are ye supposed tae be?" Morag asked softly.

"Focused on duty above all else," Colin said, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. "Nae someone who brings his wife tae secret waterfalls and forgets everything else exists."

"Maybe," Morag said, her fingers tracing small patterns on his shoulders, "the person ye're supposed tae be isnae the same as the person ye actually are."

"And what person am I, lass?" Colin asked, genuinely curious about her answer.

"I'm still figuring that out," Morag admitted. "But I like what I seen here… now. When ye're nae trying so hard tae be made of iron."

He was acutely aware of every place their bodies touched beneath the water—her soft thighs brushing against his, the press of her curves against his chest. The innocent garment she'd kept on for modesty's sake had become anything but innocent, and Colin found himself fighting the urge to trace the lines it revealed with his hands.

Colin lowered his head slightly, bringing them even closer. "What if I told ye that around ye, I dinnae feel like iron at all?"

"What dae ye feel like?" Morag whispered.

"Like a man who's been holding his breath fer years and is finally rememberin’ how tae breathe," Colin said honestly.

The confession hung between them in the warm air, more intimate than their physical closeness. Morag's fingers stilled on his shoulders.

"Colin," she breathed, and something in the way she said his name made his heart race.

"Aye?"

"I'm scared," she admitted quietly. "Of wanting this. Of wanting ye. Of forgetting that this marriage was supposed tae be just an arrangement."

"It terrifies me too," Colin confessed. "But maybe being terrified together is better than being safe and alone."

"Maybe," Morag agreed, tilting her face up toward his. "Maybe we could try being terrified together."

He lowered his head slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to, but instead she tilted her face up toward his. Their lips were barely a breath apart now, and Colin could taste the sweetness of her exhale, could feel the tremor that ran through her body as anticipation coiled between them like a living thing

"Morag," he whispered roughly, her name a prayer and a plea all at once.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into him, her body pressing more fully against his as his mouth hovered just above hers, close enough that the slightest movement would close the distance⁠—

A sharp crack echoed through the glen as a branch snapped somewhere in the forest beyond.

Both of them froze, the spell shattered as completely as if someone had doused them with ice water. Colin's warrior instincts kicked in immediately, and he moved to shield Morag with his body while scanning the treeline for signs of movement.

"Get dressed," he said quietly, his voice once again taking on the hard edge of command. "Quickly."

His eyes scanned the treeline as he pulled on his shirt. "Wait here," he barked tersely, "I want tae make sure we're alone."