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“Listen to me,” he whispered in her ear, his words a soft caress to the much harder thrusting down below. “When I whisper the words, you will let go. Forget everything and give yourself to me completely.”

She didn’t know, or care, what he spoke of. Clarissa only wanted him to keep touching her that way. Forever. So she agreed, nodding mutely, unable to speak.

“Mo rúnsearc, you are mine.”

With those words, he pressed against her with all of him—his body, his hand, his lips—all pressing against her in unison, overwhelming her senses with pleasure. She could hold on no longer.

“Now,” he demanded, and she knew what he’d meant.

Clarissa gave everything to this man who’d torn her life apart. Who’d shattered every wall she’d built. Touched her in a way that no one else ever had, or would, again. She screamed, or tried to, but his mouth covered hers, the sound drowned by the delicious pressure.

And when her body finally relaxed, the spasms abating little by little, only one coherent thought remained.

She could never, ever, become a nun.

Chapter 16

“Graeme, before you leave—”

They’d just finished the morning meal, which would typically be Graeme’s cue to lock himself away with the steward for the remainder of the morning. Gillian had already left the hall to look for her maid, and Aidan would be expected to spend his day training the men.

But after last night, he knew he could no longer stay the course with Clarissa. They needed a new plan. One that would keep Clan Scott and the other border clans safe and not require him to forsake Clarissa.

“What ails you, brother?”

They walked out of the hall together, Aidan leading the way toward the pentice that traveled the length of the entrance to the great hall and kitchens. The covered walkway connected to Highgate End’s chapel. The courtyard bustled with activity, men preparing for training, servants carrying supplies, and children . . . Aidan watched as a boy tried to pick up an errant chicken. Both he and Graeme laughed at the spectacle.

Finally, he answered his brother.

“I love her,” he said simply. The implications of those words, and what he aimed to do about them, were so far-reaching, Aidan knew he would be testing the bounds of his brother’s friendship and his chief’s tolerance.

“I know you do.”

They stopped just before the small chapel and watched as the boy tried again, eliciting a chorus of angry clucks.

“She does not deserve such treatment—”

“No one does, Aidan. Not Lady Clarissa nor any other woman or man. Theffield is a bastard of the worst kind. He trifles with lives just as surely as Caxton does. His daughter is only one of many he’d forsake for his own gain.”

Though they stood away from the activity, their conversation private, Aidan could not help but glance in every direction before answering.

“I cannot conceive of a solution yet.” His hand moved toward the dirk at his side. Aidan always felt better knowing it was there. “Giving her over to a convent is no longer an acceptable one.”

The chief, and not the brother, watched him. Most men would cower under such intense scrutiny, but Aidan was accustomed to the stare. It was the same one their father had given them as boys whenever he wanted them to agree with him.

Indeed, his brother had never looked more like their father than he did in this moment. He was so proud of the man he’d become. He would have smiled if Graeme were not so serious.

“I would not willingly put you and Gillian, and the babe, in danger.”

“You offered your protection to the very woman who could see negotiations break apart.”

“Aye.”

“That protection extends from the clan, so she is one of us now.”

Aidan’s chest swelled with gratitude. “Aye.”

Still scrutinizing him in that intense way, Graeme said, “And so we will protect her.”