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Claiming. She was his, and he’d make sure everyone knew that—including her.

He brushed against the inner side of her thigh, his fingers warm and callused, and so sexy. His hand went up, higher and higher as he was still kissing her. Her inner folds throbbed as he got closer to her sex. Then he spread her folds and found the most sensitive part of her. She gasped into his mouth and felt moisture wetting her entrance. He rubbed her clit, massaging her wet lips, and she ground against him, letting the sweet bliss take her higher and higher.

Then he inserted one finger inside her. She moaned, and so did he. He looked down at her spread thighs. “God, lass, ye’re so tight and wet and warm…”

He kept thrusting his finger into her, then inserted another one. She felt him eyeing her, his gaze heavy and attentive on her face.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she kept saying, as every thrust found the right spot inside her.

But, again, just before she reached the edge of pleasure, he withdrew, and she panted, watching him with what was almost anger.

“Patience, lass,” he purred with a satisfied smile. “I waited too long for ye to spoil this with a hurry. Ye’re mine now, and I will enjoy every moment. And have ye see the stars on the way.”

“You’re killing me,” she half whispered, half whimpered.

He positioned himself between her thighs.

His jutting erection was pressing against her entrance. She looked into his eyes—the eyes of a wolf on a hunt, the eyes of a king conquering new land, the eyes of a man who has tasted love and freedom for the first time. At that moment, she knew that Sìneag was right. This was the man for her. The man she could be happy with forever, every single day of her life. The man who was probably her soul mate, who was opening up the best in her, and she in him.

And at that moment, nothing else existed besides them, their bodies, and the pounding of their hearts.

She saw that he felt it, too. This connection that went deeper and further than anything that he’d felt before, that was more profound than a blood oath, more magical than crossing the borders of time.

Slowly, he sank into her. She stretched, feeling filled and complete. Involuntarily, she spasmed around him once, twice, and he groaned a half oath.

Then he moved back and forth, picking up speed. As the brightest, most amazing bliss of her life was spreading through her core, she dug her fingers into him, trying to hold on. He tilted his hips, and was grinding against her most sensitive spot, bringing her higher, to the point of no return, faster than she’d ever thought possible.

She hugged him with her hips, urging him deeper. He growled, making animal sounds of pleasure that spurred her own joy further.

And then she was right there—staring into the face of the sun, or of God, or whatever was pure joy and love and bliss and pleasure, and he was right there with her. She fell apart with a gasp, and she heard him call her name as he was emptying inside of her. The orgasm slammed through her in a scorching wave. She vibrated with elation as he delivered the last few slamming thrusts. She shuddered as he sagged against her. Breathing as one with the man who had just become more important and closer than anyone had ever been, she fought feelings towards Angus Mackenzie that resembled sheer happiness. It spread from her heart and through her whole body, and sated, boneless, heavy, and exhausted, she fell into sleep.

But a dark thought chased her through her dreams…

She couldn’t be the one who’d change the history of Scotland forever, no matter how much she wanted to be with him, no matter how much she wanted to stay.

Chapter 21

Angus got up from the warm bed, leaving the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen sleeping peacefully. He covered her with his blanket and marveled at the translucent perfection of her skin, of her beautiful breasts, of her thin waist and her full hips. She was tired, his fiery lass, and he didn’t want to disturb her.

It was already night now, and he knew that the guests must be at supper. So he didn’t need her with him to announce his decision.

As he was dressing, he realized now that he’d had her, he’d never be able to forget her. Having her, choosing his desire over duty, felt right, even though he still had that worm of guilt deep in his gut.

But he’d made a decision, and he’d stand to face the consequences of his action. Raghnall was right, there were other ways to achieve the safety of Kintail than tying himself to a woman he didn’t love and didn’t respect. To a woman who was dangerous for him.

He’d already put on his breeches and now that his tunic was on, he made his way downstairs to the great hall.

The scent of cooked meat and vegetables meant he was right. He was surprised that Euphemia hadn’t besieged his bedchamber or sent anyone to interrupt him and try to take Rogene again. He wasn’t complaining, of course. But something told him there was more to that and he needed to be careful.

He entered the hall. It was quiet there, and only a murmur of voices came from the table of honor where Laomann and Catrìona sat together with their guests: Euphemia, William, and Malise. Mackenzie men greeted him as he came through the aisle between the rows of tables. The Ross warriors eyes him heavily.

Euphemia lifted her head as he approached the table. “Ah,” she said with a raised brow. “My betrothed. The man who openly took a mistress.”

She cocked her head and pressed out a smile that didn’t reach her cold eyes.

“How was the whore?” She licked her fingers, which were slick with chicken fat from the drumstick she was holding.

Angus took in a deep breath. His jaws crunched together, and his teeth hurt from the force. He hated that she spoke so about Rogene. Rogene, for whom his heart ached and who’d occupied his mind and soul.