He finally stopped pacing and turned, his eyes upon her reflection in the mirror.
“I came in to make sure you were well following your encounter today,” he said, surprising her to such an extent that she nearly dropped her brush. As it was, his words stilled her actions. “Despite what those men said, you are a McDougall now, as well as a MacTavish. We married to join the clans, and therefore we will fight these battles together. As I told him, he must never threaten you again.”
Kyla looked up at him, blinking at the ferocity in his tone as well as his words. She hadn’t thought much would surprise her anymore about Finlay McDougall, but he continued to show her aspects of himself that she never would have guessed were lurking behind the façade he placed in front of him for most to encounter.
She knew he was loyal—that much had always been clear. What she hadn’t realized was just how protective, how considerate he could be. Especially when it came to her. She didn’t know where this man had been hiding, but she wanted more of this side of him. Maybe then, just maybe, they could make this work after all.
“I appreciate that, Fin,” she finally managed, catching his eye in the mirror, the dark mahogany and the emerald green locking onto each other. He looked away as though the intensity pained him. “I’m sorry—Finlay,” she amended, inclining her head toward him.
“I…it’s fine, I dinna mind you calling me Fin,” he said, looking everywhere around the room but at her. “In fact, I actually wish you would. I was wrong before, to ask you not to.”
She set her brush down, turning her stool to face him.
“Oh, Finlay,” she said, standing, crossing to him, imploring him to look at her. For a moment she was nearly overwhelmed by his presence, his body so close to hers. Sometimes she forgot just how strong, how powerful he really was, but it was nearly impossible to do so when he stood with his torso bare in front of her. “Why must we continue like this?”
“Like what?” he muttered thickly, his eyes unreadable, though there was clearly emotion lurking beneath the surface.
“As though we are strangers, when we have known one another our entire lives. I know you didn’t ask for this, Finlay, didn’t ask for me, but here we are. Perhaps… perhaps we set aside our differences of the past and move forward? But we must do so together, Finlay. I cannot do it alone.”
He said nothing, the set of his jaw as harsh and unyielding as ever, and for a moment Kyla wondered if he was going to rebuke her peace offering and retreat to his chamber as though he had never entered to look after her wellbeing.
But then he further surprised her. He picked up her hand in his. She followed his gaze to where they joined, her own hand looking so small and pale in comparison to his large, strong fingers. Then he swallowed her hand within his, and the heat of his touch coursed through her unexpectedly. They looked up at the same time, their breath intermingling. She smiled ever so slightly, and he raised his other hand to rub her lip with his thumb. Kyla caught her breath at the intensity of the slight touch, and they stared at one another for a long moment as the tension mounted in the air between them.
Had Kyla been asked, she never could have said who moved first, and she would venture that Finlay would never know either. But it didn’t much matter, for suddenly they were locked together, lips moving over one another in a dance as old as time itself.
One of his strong hands held her head as the other wrapped itself around her waist. She pressed herself against him, loving the feeling of his hard, muscular body against hers. His lips crushed hers, his tongue teasing them open to allow him in. Kyla had been kissed a time or two before, but never anything like this. Not with this wild abandon, this possessiveness that she never thought she would accept, but now craved more than anything else.
His caresses sent tingles down to her toes, and she gasped at his intensity, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. Finlay McDougall did nothing halfway. If he was intent on something, he would see it through. The thought prompted her to imagine all that could await, and she pressed even closer against him, needing more.
He began pulling down her nightgown, and she was suddenly desperate to discover what it might feel like to be bare against him. When he pushed the sleeves over her shoulders and when her breasts fell out of the garment, he groaned, cupping them, teasing her sensitive nipples with hands rough from manual work.
She moaned and her head fell back, leaving her neck exposed for him to rain soft kisses down upon it, sending shivers along her spine.
As he led her over to the bed, he stopped suddenly, pulling back from her, leaving her feeling bereft and alone. Eyes slightly hazy from being swept up in desire, she looked up at him in question.
“Kyla,” he said softly, bringing her back to the present moment, and for the first time in their lives she wished Finlay wouldn’t say another word.
“I need to know, before we take this any further, is this what you want? You said we would not sleep as husband and wife until you determined it was what you wished. Is it now so?” He looked at her with some concern. “I must hear you say the words.”
She took in the seriousness of his eyes, the furrow in his brow. He was a hard man, who didn’t take much in life lightly. He focused on
