Page 120 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

"I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm barely holding it together."

"That's what strength is, lass. Nae fallin' apart when everythin' inside ye wants tae." His arms tightened around her. "And ye havenae fallen apart. Ye've kept goin'. Kept fightin'. That's strength."

Elinor pulled back enough to look up at him. "You really believe that?"

"Aye. I dae." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Ye're the strongest person I ken. And I'm lucky tae have ye."

"I'm the lucky one." She rose on her toes, pressing her lips to his. It was meant to be a gentle kiss, a thank you for his support and understanding.

But the moment their lips met, something shifted.

The kiss deepened. David's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer. Elinor's fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to her.

All the tension from the day—the fear, the stress, the carefully controlled emotion—it all came pouring out in that kiss. Desperation and relief and need all tangled together.

"Elinor," David breathed against her lips.

She kissed him again, harder. "I don't want to stop. I don't want to think about the Duke or Langley or anything else. I just want—" She stopped, not sure how to put it into words.

"What dae ye want?" His hands were already unlacing her gown, his fingers deft despite the urgency in his movements.

"You. Just you." She tugged at his shirt, frustrated by the fabric between them. "I want to forget everything else for a while. I want to feel something good. Something that's just ours."

"Aye." He pulled back just enough to shrug out of his shirt, then returned to her laces. "I can dae that."

Her gown pooled at her feet. His hands found her waist again, sliding up her ribs, making her shiver.

He kissed her again, walking her backward until her legs hit the settle. They fell onto the cushions together, limbs tangling, hands exploring. The whisky sat forgotten on the table.

"I love ye," David murmured against her throat. "God, I love ye so much."

"I love you too." Her hands traced the muscles of his back, feeling them flex beneath her touch. "Show me. Show me how much."

So he did.

David’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

Elinor melted against him, her hands sliding up to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His kiss deepened, hungry yet gentle, his tongue teasing hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her against him. She could feel the hard length of his manhood pressing against her, a silent promise of what was to come.

Breaking the kiss, David murmured “Let me show ye how much ye mean tae me,” his breath hot against her ear.

His words sent a shiver down her spine. The flames from the hearth cast a golden glow over their bodies, the warmth enveloping them like a lover’s embrace.

Laying her down on the sofa, David trailed kisses along her neck, giving her breasts a hungry gaze.

“So beautiful,” he growled, his lips closing around a nipple, sucking and teasing until she arched her back, moaning his name.

Elinor’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she whispered, “Take me, David. Now.”

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eye, as he shed his plaid, his muscular body a sight to behold. His chest was etched with the scars of battles fought and won, each one a testament to his strength and resilience.

He pressed a kiss to her core through her shift, his beard scratching her sensitive skin.

“Ye’re so wet fer me, lass,” he murmured, his fingers hooking into the fabric and tearing it away, baring her glistening core to his gaze.

Elinor gasped at the boldness of his action, her cheeks flushing with desire. He kissed his way down, his tongue tracing her folds, his beard rasping against her bud as he lapped at her greedily.

“Oh goodness, David, don’t stop,” she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders.