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“Where? This is the only place that’s nae occupied.”

“I’ll kill Owen,” Craig said. “Go anywhere. Go to my bedchamber, take my bed for all I care. Just leave my wife and me alone.”

“Aye, cousin.”

Both of them ran away, holding hands. The woman’s hair was long and red, like Amy’s, though she was nowhere near as lovely.

Craig shook his head and looked around. “Anybody else here?”

No sound came except for the horses snorting softly. He exchanged a glance with Amy. She looked amused, thank goodness, not spooked or frightened or disgusted. She burst out laughing, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He smiled, too, watching her laugh, and then her laughter caught him, and he, too, burst out. They stood, watching each other, giggling.

And Craig had never felt as happy as he did now.

Finally, their laughter died out and they breathed deeply, letting a few final chuckles surface.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her to him.

“Right here?” Amy asked.

“Aye, Amy Cambel, right here. Ye heard the man, everything else is occupied. And I wilna share a room with anyone else. I want ye all to myself.”

“Well,” she said as she came into his arms. “As it happens, I share your opinion.”

“Thank goodness. If I canna have ye now, my ballsack will burst.”

“We certainly do not want that,” she murmured sweetly and kissed him.

Chapter 22

Amy kissed him, and the kiss was slow, like poured honey. She took her time, enjoying his warm, soft, delicious mouth.

He answered back hungrily, as though he’d never tasted anything so good and wasn’t about to stop. He laid her down on the heap of straw again, and it sank under her weight. He stretched out next to her. The scent of fresh hay enveloped her.

Did she feel any anxiety at being in a dark barn? No. With Craig, she felt safe and warm. She was ready for the bad memories to be replaced by happy, pleasurable ones.

Straws prickled through her dress, adding an edge to her excitement. He cupped her jaw and ran his hand down her body, making her skin tingle even through the clothes. She arched her back, pressing into his hand, reluctant for him to disconnect from her. He covered her breast with his palm and massaged it, circling her nipple with his thumb. It hardened and ached sweetly.

“Oh, do ye like that?” he murmured against her neck, his lips brushing her skin.

“Mmmm,” she managed.

“And do ye like this?” He moved over her chest, leaned down and took her nipple gently between his teeth, right through the dress, wetting the fabric.

A lightning bolt of sweetness shot through her. “Ohhhhh,” she cried a little louder, arching her back.

“I kent ye’d like that. And what if I do this?”

He took more of her breast into his mouth, sucking at it while he cupped her other breast and rolled her nipple between his fingers.

Waves of delicious torture spread through Amy, and she moaned, unable to contain herself. “Oh, dear God, yes.”

She ran her fingers through his silky wet hair, then over his strong shoulders. He trailed down her stomach with his mouth, kissing her through the dress, and somehow, it was more erotic than if she had been naked. Something about it was so simple. The stables. The man. The woman. Their desire.

Amy’s skin tingled and sang where he touched her, as though he knew a secret to her body even she did not.

Craig ran a hand down her skirt, then he reached under the and touched her leg.

Instinctively, she pulled it away—she wasn’t shaved, of course, but he didn’t seem to care.