Page 63 of The Highlander’s Iron Hold

Colin's jaw tightened, and she could see him struggling for words. "The timing... these things are complicated⁠—"

"The only complication I see here is ye hiding yer true motives! Colin, dinnae ye dare lie tae me!" Morag's eyes blazed. "All these days, ye've been waiting fer this delivery, haven't ye? Waiting fer..." She stopped, pieces clicking together in her mind. "The consummation. That's why this arrived today, isn't it?"

"Morag, it's nae what ye think⁠—"

"Then explain it tae me!" she demanded. "Explain why me faither's gold arrives the morning after... after last night. Our entire marriage, everything between us, has been about this." She kicked at a chest, sending coins scattering across the cobblestones. "Did ye laugh at me when I said I was ready? Did ye think I was a foolish girl, falling fer the man who only wanted her fortune?"

"Of course nae," Colin said fiercely, stepping toward her. "What happened between us last night was real. It had naething tae dae with yer dowry." Colin ran a hand through his hair, looking cornered. "I ken ye ken this, Morag. It's standard practice in marriage contracts. The full dowry is delivered once the union is... complete."

"Standard practice?" Morag's voice cracked with hurt and disbelief. "So last night... in the tent, in the rain, when ye made me feel like the most precious thing in the world... that was just ye securing yer payment? God, what a fool I have been!"

"Nay!" Colin stepped toward her urgently. "Morag, what happened between us had naething tae dae with any of this. Nae all of it, at least."

"Nae all of it, Colin?!" She backed away from him, tears starting to blur her vision. "How convenient that ye suddenly found me so irresistible just when ye needed tae consummate our marriage fer the gold."

"That's nae true," Colin said desperately. "I've wanted ye since the day ye arrived. What we shared was real—is real."

"Is it?" Morag's laugh was bitter. "Or were ye just a very good actor, making sure I'd be willin’ when the time came? Tell me, Colin—if there had been nay dowry clause, would ye have been so eager tae bring me intae yer chamber?"

Colin's hesitation was barely a heartbeat, but it was enough. Morag saw the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, the way he couldn't immediately deny her accusation.

"I thought so," she whispered, devastation replacing anger in her voice. "I was such a fool. I actually believed... I thought what we had was special."

"It is special," Colin said fiercely. "Morag, the dowry may have been part of the arrangement, but me feelings fer ye are real. What happened between us, Morag that’s real."

"What happened between us," Morag interrupted, "was ye daein’ yer duty tae secure yer clan's future. Very thoroughly, I might add. I kent ye loved yer clan, and I admired ye fer it. But I never- never- imagined ye'd go tae the extent of playing the part of the patient husband, the gentle teacher, and the man who could be tender and kind. It was all just a means tae an end."

"Ye're wrong!"

"Am I? Then why didn't ye tell me? Why keep it secret if it meant naething tae ye?"

Colin ran a hand through his hair, looking cornered. "Because I kent ye'd react like this. I kent ye'd think the worst of me."

"And ye were right, weren't ye?" Morag's laugh was bitter. "Because this is the worst. All these days of thinking maybe, just maybe, ye could care about me fer meself, and instead I was just an investment waiting tae mature."

She refused to give him the satisfaction of keeping on seeing just how thoroughly he'd broken her heart. She spun away from him, her chin lifted with defiant pride even as tears threatened to spill.

But Colin was faster. His hand shot out, strong fingers wrapping around her wrist and spinning her back to face him. His grip was firm but not painful, possessive in a way that made her pulse race despite her fury.

"Ye stubborn, stubborn lass," he growled, his dark eyes blazing with frustration and something deeper. "Yer wild nature will not be tamed long enough fer ye tae listen tae yer husband. Will ye stop talking’ enough tae hear the truth?"

"I've heard enough!" Morag spat.

"Nay, ye havenae!" Colin's voice thundered through the courtyard, making the pigeons nearby scatter. "Ye want the truth? Here it is—aye, it was all arranged. Every bit of it. And I didn't give a damn who they brought tae me as long as she kept tae herself and obeyed me. I imagined in a few years she would give me an heir and I would return tae me clan business. All I cared about was that the clan got the dowry it needed tae survive."

Each word hit Morag like a physical blow, confirming her worst fears. He had never hoped for a happy marriage or to fall in love, he only needed money. She tried to wrench free of his grip, but Colin held fast.

"I outbid several more prosperous lairds fer yer hand, including Fraser, which is part of the reason he tried tae kidnap ye twice." He sighed, his tone turning into a slow whisper. "But I never imagined," his voice became rougher, more intense, "that the bride I'd receive would be such a stubborn, fiery-mouthed, bewitching lass. I never imagined I'd fall so hard fer a woman who could bring me tae me knees with a single look. Ye have tae stay with me, Morag, dinnae ye see? Ye're everything I need tae make Armstrong great again."

Before she could respond, Colin hauled her against him, his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss that was equal parts anger and desperation. His lips were hard, demanding, claiming her with a fierce possessiveness that stole her breath.

"Mo chridhe," he breathed against her lips—my heart—before capturing her mouth again with renewed hunger.

Morag's first instinct was to fight, to bite and claw and show him she wouldn't be so easily conquered. But as his mouth moved against hers with familiar heat, as his hands tangled in her hair with the same reverence he'd shown just hours before, her body betrayed her completely.

The kiss transformed from angry to hungry, from punishing to pleading. Colin's arms came around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer as his tongue traced the seam of her lips.

"Mo ghraidh," he murmured—my love— into another kiss and the endearment sent liquid fire through her veins despite her fury.