Highlander in Disguise (Lockhart Family #2)

“No’ as beautiful as ye are, lass,” Grif said sincerely, and swept her up in his arms, surprising her.

“What are you doing?” Anna cried, laughing.

“Ach, what do ye think I’m doing? Carrying me bride across the threshold, of course!” he said, and walked into that room, kicked the door shut, then put Anna down, turned to lock the door, and then turned around again, divesting himself of his coat and waistcoat, all the while smiling at Anna.

She shyly returned his smile and wandered to a vase full of primroses next to the basin. She selected one and put it in her hair as Grif tossed his neckcloth aside. He moved to stand behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her neck. “Ye canna know how I’ve longed for this night,” he said. “I’ve longed to show ye just how much I’ve come to love ye.”

“How long?” she asked, smiling, and took another primrose from the vase.

“A lifetime,” he muttered. “A bloody lifetime.” He ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders. “Come on, then, and lie down, will ye, so that I might show ye just how much I do,” he said, and pressed his face to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Shouldn’t I remove my gown?” she asked, falling back against him and tucking her head under his chin. “Or would you prefer to imagine what lies beneath?”

He laughed. “The time for fancying ye has passed.” He moved his hands to her back, began to undo the tiny buttons, moving deftly down her back. Anna lifted her arms and let down her hair as he did.

When he had finished, she let her hair fall, and turned around to face him, her gaze roaming his face. “You must tell me what to do.”

He smoothed her hair, kissed her forehead, and carefully pushed the gown from her shoulders, watching it slide to the floor and pool at her feet. He offered his hand to her; she put her hand in his, slipped out of her shoes, and stepped out of the gown, moving gracefully in nothing but a thin chemise.

They moved to the bed; she tossed the primrose she held onto the bed with the others, and Grif gathered her in his arms, kissed her gently. “Are ye frightened?”

Anna laughed lightly and shook her head. “I’m not the least frightened.”

“Is this what ye want?” he asked, caressing her face.

She laughed again, slipped her arms around his waist. “Do you recall the night in the garden at Featherstone? The night you asked me what I wanted?”

He nodded solemnly.

“I want you to kiss me, Grif. I want to know how it feels to love.”

Diah, but he loved this woman! He gazed down at her now, her face between his hands, her coppery eyes glinting with a delightful, devilish glint, and wondered how he’d come to be such a lucky man. No woman had ever evoked such passion in him, good or bad, and he marveled at how he might have gone on, never feeling such depth of emotion for another human being, had it not been for that wretched beastie.

He’d cherish her because of it, for he never wanted to be without this feeling again. “I want ye to feel how I love ye, Anna,” he said with great emotion, and lowered his head to kiss her.

Anna instantly pressed against him, lifting her face, her tongue seeking his. Grif made a sound of approval, and Anna’s hands were on his back, pulling his shirt from his trousers, seeking to touch his skin, her hands on his bare back, sweeping up to his shoulders, then around to his belly. Then she broke away from him and focused on the buttons of his shirt until she had undone them all. She pushed the fabric of his shirt aside and caught a breath as she looked at his chest.

And she slowly released that breath as she lifted her hands to his chest, let her fingers slide down, over taut nipples, to the flat plane of his stomach, and to the fine line of hair the disappeared into his trousers. She stared down at his trousers, at his thick erection, and then lifted her gaze to him. “I want to feel it, Grif. All of it.”

Grif had never been more aroused than he was in that moment, and he unfastened his trousers, guided her hand to feel the strength of his desire for her. When her small hand closed firmly around him, Grif was lost.

He was suddenly feverish, working to loosen her chemise, seeking her bare breasts with his hands while her fingers squeezed him, sliding down his shaft, then deeper, to his heavy testicles. With a moan, Grif grabbed the hem of her chemise and pulled it up over her head and tossed it aside.

She stood naked before him, wearing only a flower in her dark tangled hair, her breasts full and ripe, her belly smooth, the dark patch of hair flowering above trim, long legs. He put his hands on her hips, pulled her into him, kissed her deeply, and lowered her onto the bed. She fell onto her back and smiled up at him as he removed his trousers.