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He glared at her. “As long as ‘wise’ dinna mean ‘old.’”

She giggled. “But what about you? Can’t Colum be the next laird? He’ll be a great leader. No, he isn’t your own son, but he’s your nephew, so he’s still your blood. And Seoras. And Sìomon after them.”

“Aye. ’Tis exactly what I have thought. But just like ye, I’ve always wanted my own. Wanted to bounce my own bairn on my knee and come home to my own wee family. To ken I had given them all they needed, and that even when I’m gone, they’d be taken care of.”

She hugged him around the neck and looked up at him. He was so tall, she almost had to tilt her head all the way back. “Here we are. Two old people complaining of what can never be.”

He growled and his gaze darkened. “Call me old one more time… I’ll show you old.”

He kissed her, his lips warm and hungry and demanding, and she forgot everything.

* * *

Her lips were like velvet, and Aulay couldn’t get enough. He tasted them over and over again, feeling himself harden, feeling himself burn for her. One touch from her, and he was on fire.

This woman was everything. He loved talking to her, he loved making love to her, he loved just being in her presence.

He was breathing her in, trying to make him hers, a part of his bloodstream. Her tongue was hot and sweet, and she tasted of raspberries and wine.

He had a strange sense that she was disappearing from him when she looked out at the sea. She had come to him like a vision from another world on that island. Called to him like a siren called a seaman to his demise. And he’d come to her, taken her to his home.

And now he wanted to make her his. But she wasn’t. She had given him her body, but her heart…he wasn’t sure she could give him her heart.

And he wanted all of her, or he’d need to let her go.

He caressed her back, running his hands up and down her beautiful body, her full arse. He fondled her breast right through her dress and played with her nipple until it hardened and she was moaning and arching against him.

Then he brought his arms around her and picked her up, letting her legs wrap around his waist. His shoulder complained with pain, but he ignored it. What was a wee bit of pain when he could have her?

“I’ll show ye old,” he growled into her mouth. “Ye think an old man can do this?”

With one arm holding her, he undid the girdle that held his braies, lifted her skirts up, and was inside her in one swift movement. Her tight, sleek heat took him in, and they both gasped.

“Aulay…” she murmured. “Anyone can see us…”

“Let them,” he growled. “Let them all ken ye are mine.”

He began moving inside her. God’s blood, she held him like a fist. They both moved in one rhythm. Her plump breasts bounced against his chest through her dress. He leaned down and sucked her nipple through the fabric. She was so soft and beautiful and so perfect against him. He was all heat, tight and tense and burning.

She was holding on to his shoulders. Behind her, the last sunrays of the day were dying, the pink and orange turning purple, the sea and the sky black in the east. He was claiming her before the whole world. In front of God, and sky and sea and his own land, he claimed her.

And she was loving it. Like a glove and a hand, they fit. She was moaning those throaty moans he loved hearing from her. Those moans that made him even harder. She was tighter and tighter around him, and as he kept holding her with one arm, with his other hand, he found her sleek folds and gently rubbed the center of her pleasure.

“Oh, Aulay,” she groaned out, and he knew she wouldn’t last long.

“Tell me a young pup can make love to ye like that. Ken yer body like that. Make ye sing like that.”

“No one…” she said. “Fuck it, Aulay… Oh God…”

She cried out loudly from pleasure. And she was over the edge tightening and clenching around him in her sweet release, milking him. That was his own undoing, and in a moment, he felt himself buck and tighten, and release and spill into her.

“Mine, Jenny, ye’re mine,” he growled.

As he held her in his arms, quivering and sagging against him, Aulay realized this may be one of the last times they would do that. She wanted to leave and return to her time. And if he loved her, he couldn’t hold her here any longer against her will. The thought of losing her was like a knife in his soul.

But there was so much he could offer her. He could make her happy, give her everything she’d ever wanted.

Mayhap a bairn.