Rage built inside Deirdre, feeding the evil and helping to restore her magic. She continued to nourish her anger. Every time she saw a dead Druid, a slain wyrran or Warrior, or her mountain destroyed, she thought of the MacLeods.
She had wanted the brothers to align with her. Now she just wanted them and any Warrior who dared to ally with them destroyed.
The rest of the day crawled for Isla. Not even her earlier worry whether the pudding and pastries would taste good could help her sort through the jumble of emotions inside her.
It didn’t hurt that Hayden was in the village helping to rebuild the cottages. At least she was saved from having to see him and remember their kiss.
That was until supper. It had been near impossible for her not to look at him, and whenever she did, his gaze was on her as well. It left her all too aware of him and what his kisses had done to her.
Her body warmed and her blood turned to fire. There was a peculiar, but pleasurable, feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her breathing was erratic, and Isla couldn’t seem to think clearly.
She’d tried to leave the hall early, but everyone wanted to tell her how much they loved her pastries. It wasn’t until she promised more that she was able to get away.
Now, as she paced her tower, she wondered if she should have stayed in the hall. Maybe she could have spoken with Hayden.
She didn’t know. It wasn’t as if she had experience with this type of thing. It was all new to her, especially the longing, the everpresent, never-ending need he had set into motion since he came into her chamber and almost kissed her.
There had been times in the past when she had encountered a man who caught her interest, but she had never allowed herself to do anything about it. She was who she was, and that meant she had to be alone.
Isla sighed and reached for her comb. Brushing her hair had always helped to calm her. She sat on the edge of her bed and watched the light from her single candle dance on the opposite wall while she ran the comb through her hair.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that before she caught a whiff of spice and woods.
His hand covered hers that held the comb. He took the comb from her and slowly, tenderly brushed her hair. He was gentle as he glided it from her head to the ends that fell to her waist.
“There is something compelling about watching a woman brush her hair.”
Isla shivered at the sound of his deep, rich voice. “It is merely a chore.”
“I think not. I think you get as much joy out of it as I do.”
She licked her lips and tried not to think of his firm mouth that had kissed her into oblivion. She’d have done anything he asked of her after that kiss. And she feared that would never change.
“I want to finish what we began on the beach,” he whispered near her ear.
Chills raced over her skin and her stomach fluttered with anticipation, with excitement. Isla turned to face him, afraid he was serious and terrified he wasn’t.
The candlelight left much of his face in shadow, but she saw his black eyes. Even in the dim light she recognized the hunger, the yearning she glimpsed because it was the same within herself.
“I don’t know if that’s wise,” she said. She had to keep him at a distance, if for no reason other than preserving her own sanity.
He smiled then, a knowing, seductive smile that lifted one side of his mouth and made her heart skip a beat. “It most certainly isna wise, but I’ve tried to stay away. I cannot. Can you?”
Isla opened her mouth to deny it, but it would be lying to herself and him. “Nay.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. Hayden knelt on the bed and pulled her, slowly, surely into his arms. As soon as those bands of steel wrapped around her, Isla was lost. Her own arms wound around his neck and into the cool blond silk of his hair. It hung to his shoulders, thick and golden, at complete odds with the darkness of his eyes.
Those eyes watched her now. He studied her, gauging her reaction. “Do you want this? Tell me the truth. I have to know.”
“Aye, Hayden. I want this.” She wanted it like she had wanted nothing else before.
Before the last word was out of her mouth his lips were on hers. The kiss was passionate and fiery, intense and consuming. With each stroke of his tongue on hers, she felt her body sag against him, felt herself come alive.
Passion coiled low in her belly, urging her onward, begging her to follow the desire that heated her blood and pumped through her body.
Everything she was, everything she had been, and everything she wanted disappeared in Hayden’s arms. He made the world vanish, leaving just the two of them and their passion that wouldn’t be denied.
She tugged at the pin holding the tartan over his heart while his hands gathered her skirts at her waist. There was a whooshing sound as his kilt tumbled off him to the floor. With his tartan at his feet, Isla tugged at his shirt, wanting it gone so she could run her hands over his sun-bronzed skin and the powerful muscles beneath.
“Take off your gown before I slice it off you,” he ground out as he jerked his saffron shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Isla hurried to rid herself of her clothes, and when she looked up, Hayden stood by the bed watching her in all his naked glory.
She caught her breath, once more entranced by the utter perfection, the sheer beauty of Hayden. It was as if the gods had sculpted him themselves, fashioned him into the ultimate warrior, untamed and wild.
And the seamless combination of danger and excitement as a lover.
With a finger, Isla traced down his chest to his narrow waist and over his slim hips to his bulging thighs. She had never touched a man like this before, had never wanted to. Yet, she couldn’t get enough of Hayden.
He knelt between her legs and took off first one shoe, then the other. Next, he reached up and began to roll down her stockings, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers.
The promise of pleasure she saw in his dark depths made her desire settle deep within her and throb low and steady. Waiting for his kiss, waiting for his touch.
Isla shook with desire and the feel of Hayden’s fingers lightly skimming her skin. He worked the stocking down slowly, as if he wanted to prolong the sweet torment of his touch.
She dropped her head back when he pulled off the first stocking and lifted her foot to place a kiss at her ankle. A moan escaped her when his hands reached up to her hips and caressed downward to her other stocking.
Isla’s hips came off the bed when he came close to touching her sex. His fingers had teased the curls between her legs, tempting her with his touch, building her anticipation.
Her sex throbbed, eager for contact. For Hayden.
He took the same leisurely, sweet time he had on her first leg as he did on the second. This time, when he removed her stocking, he kissed her knee.
Isla fisted her hands in the blanket to help anchor her and the rioting sensations that flooded her body. She feared, yet craved, what came next. And when Hayden rose up to lean over her, she knew that whatever happened, she would never regret giving in to the passion he called forth. A passion that engulfed her.
EIGHTEEN
Hayden didn’t think he had ever seen anything so exquisite, so breathtaking as the vision of Isla lying naked and wanting beneath him.
Her black locks were spread around her, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her startling ice-blue eyes locked with his. She was aroused and ready. Waiting.
