Library

Chapter 17

17

E rin watched as Magnus paced the length of his chamber towards her, his steps as fierce and unyielding as the crags of the Highlands themselves. The torchlight flickered across his broad shoulders, casting shadows that danced upon the stone walls—a silent ballet of light and darkness that echoed the turmoil in her own heart.

"Ye daenae ken what yer talkin' about, woman," Magnus finally spat out, turning to face her with eyes ablaze. "I am nae some weakling laird who bows to the whims of a cantankerous old man. Me standing amongst me people is strong."

His voice was a bellow, resonating through the room like the roar of a winter storm against the castle's sturdy battlements. Yet, Erin stood firm, her hands clenched at her sides, refusing to wilt under the force of his conviction.

"Reggie Hogg may be bitter and harsh," she began, her words deliberate, "but he speaks for more than just himself. If we ignore his counsel, it'll be seen as prideful arrogance. It's nae weakness to listen, 'tis wisdom."

"Is it wisdom, or is it ye trying to please everyone?" he countered. His gaze never wavered, and his question hung heavy in the air, challenging her resolve.

"Even on our wedding day, amidst the skirl of bagpipes and sweet scent of thistles, I knew this union was borne of necessity, not desire." She caught her breath, feeling the sting of truth in her words. "But I accepted it, for the good of our clans."

"Ye did," Magnus acknowledged with a curt nod, his voice softening only a fraction. "And as me wife?—"

"Yer wife?" Erin cut him off, her patience fraying. "Ach, do not speak to me of titles when there has been naught but duty between us!" Her chest heaved, her eyes blazing with a fire that rivaled his own.

"Ye should stand by me,nae question me every decision," he growled, stepping closer until he loomed over her.

"Stand by ye?" Erin's laugh was sharp and humorless. "I am nae yer true wife, Magnus, nae in any way that matters!" Her voice broke the tense silence that followed, each word laced with an unspoken challenge.

Magnus' jaw tightened, muscles twitching with barely contained emotion. They stood there, a mere whisper apart, their breaths mingling in the charged space between them. The intensity of their closeness sent a shiver down Erin's spine, awakening an awareness she dared not acknowledge.

"Ye are me wife," Magnus said, his voice low and dangerous, "by law and by the bond that ties our lands together."

"By convenience," Erin shot back, her voice equally quiet, yet seething with defiance.

"By necessity," he corrected, his gaze never leaving hers.

"Then let us not pretend it is anything more," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as if trying to escape.

As the last word left her lips, the tension snapped, leaving them suspended on the cliff's edge of whatever came next—their fates intertwined in the intricate tapestry of clan alliances, honor, and a reluctant desire that neither could fully deny nor embrace.

The silence that hung between them was thick as the woolen plaids of their clans, charged with a primal energy that seemed to crackle in the cool night air. Erin's heart drummed a wild rhythm against her ribs, matching the intensity of Magnus' stare.

"Ye daenae ken what ye're asking of me," Magnus growled, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it resonated with a depth that vibrated through Erin's very bones.

"Perhaps I'm asking for too little," Erin retorted, her words bold, but her body betraying her by leaning ever so slightly toward him.

In that fiery instant, all the resentments and frustrations gave way to something more potent—a need as raw and untamed as the highland winds. Magnus bridged the gap between them, his lips crashing against hers with a force that spoke volumes of unspoken yearnings.

Erin's mind screamed at her to push away, to remember the ice that had coursed through her veins when she first heard she was to marry this man, this beast of a Laird who wore scars like badges of honor. Yet, her hands betrayed her thoughts, tangling into his long black hair, pulling him closer. The clash of their lips was less a kiss and more a battle for dominance—and Erin found herself not wanting to win, but to be conquered.

As they fought for breath, their bodies pressed together with a desperation that left no space for doubt or hesitation. Magnus' hands, those same hands that had wielded swords and commanded men, now roamed over Erin's curves with a gentleness that belied his stoic nature. Each touch was a contradiction to the harshness of his life, a softness he seemed to reserve only for her.

"Please," he murmured against her lips, but his fingers traced the laces of her bodice with an intimacy that spoke otherwise.

"Continue," she begged, her own voice surprising her—a mix of vulnerability and command that fueled the fire within them both.

Magnus hesitated, his brow creased with the weight of a decision that could shatter the fragile truce between them. But as Erin looked up at him, her blue eyes alight with a passion that rivaled the legends of old, the stories of fierce warriors and the women who tamed them, he found he could deny her nothing.

The cool night air of the Scottish Highlands whispered through the chamber, but Erin felt nothing but the heat emanating from Magnus's body as he hovered above her. Naked on the bed, the rough linen sheets a stark contrast to her soft skin, she watched him through half-lidded eyes, a tempest of desire swirling within her. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow upon them both, turning his scars into silvered lines of a warrior's life etched upon his flesh.

"Ye ken how to make it a challenge to keep me hands to myself," Magnus murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the ancient stones of the room. His touch was gentle yet insistent, tracing the curve of her hip, the softness of her belly, before gliding up to cup the weight of her breast. She gasped as his thumb brushed over her sensitive peak, sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Perhaps I daenae want ye to keep yer hands to yerself," Erin replied, her own voice husky with need. Each caress was a testament to the burgeoning connection between them, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and sealed with the unexpected tenderness she found in his embrace. "Perhaps I might be beggin' ye."

Magnus dipped his head, his lips finding hers once more, kissing her with a fervor that spoke of restrained hunger now set free. She tasted the sweetness of mead from their earlier wedding celebration still lingering on his breath, mingling with the wild, musky scent of his skin.

The stories of old spoke of noble bloodlines, of those whose mere touch could ensnare the mind, and in this moment, Erin felt utterly captive to Magnus's will. His hands touched gently on the fabric of her bodice, fingers deftly undoing the laces that held her restrained. Each tug sent a thrill through her, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability that made her pulse quicken. As the last lace came undone, her bodice fell open, revealing the swell of her breasts in the moonlight's silver embrace.

Magnus's gaze darkened with a primal hunger, his eyes tracing the curves of her body reverently, as if committing every inch to memory. With a steadiness born of both reverence and desire, he lowered his head, capturing her rosy peak with his warm lips. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure cascading through Erin's body.

A soft moan escaped her lips, mingling with the deep rumble of Magnus's own satisfaction. His touch was both tender and possessive, a paradox that spoke of his conflicted soul laid bare in this intimate moment. As he lavished attention on one breast, his hand sought the other, kneading it, offering a similar caress. The contrast between the firmness of his touch and the tender gentleness of his lips only served to heighten the intensity of Erin's desire.

Their bodies writhed together, a symphony of need and pleasure, as Magnus continued to explore her with his hands and mouth. Each touch, each caress, was a testament to the depth of their connection, a bond that transcended the boundaries of duty and obligation. Erin felt her inhibitions slipping away, melted by the intoxicating mix of passion and tenderness that bound them together in this moment.

As the intensity of their embrace continued to build, Magnus reached down, his hand dipping between Erin's legs. She gasped at the sudden intimacy, the warm heat of his touch sending a shock of desire straight to her core. Her hips arched instinctively, inviting him closer, seeking the connection. His hand moved slowly, fingers deftly coaxing pleasure from her body as only a lover well-versed in the intricate dance of desire could. Erin arched against him, her breath catching in her throat as he prepared her for the union to come. She was clay beneath his masterful hands, ready to be shaped by his ardor, her own passion stoked to a fervent blaze.

"Please, Magnus..." Her plea was a whisper lost amidst the rustle of the tartan plaid discarded beside them, a symbol of their clans united yet not nearly as binding as the invisible ties that now drew them together.

With a reverence that belied his brute strength, Magnus entered her, joining their bodies in a primal communion as old as the rugged mountains that cradled their home. Erin cried out, but the initial pain of his entry was engulfed in a pleasure she had never before imagined possible. Erin welcomed him fully, her hips rising to meet each deliberate thrust. Together they moved, a rhythm as natural as the ebb and flow of the loch's tide, each push and pull drawing them closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

As the storm of sensation built within her, Erin clung to Magnus, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his back. Their breaths mingled, heavy and ragged, and when she finally crested the wave of climax, it was with his name falling like a benediction from her lips. He pulled out before she was ready to release him, but he clung to her as his body tensed and he cried out with his own release somewhere below her.

They remained locked in their embrace, hearts pounding, the silence around them imbued with the sacred aftermath of their joining. Erin lay beneath him, her body still quivering from the intensity of her release, the knowledge that they had crossed a threshold into something profound glowing within her chest like the embers of a hearth fire.

Yet even as she basked in the afterglow, a shadow of uncertainty crept into her heart. What did this mean for their future? Was this just the warmth of their heated discussion or something deeper? As sleep threatened to claim her, Erin's last coherent thought lingered on the edge of doubt, wondering if the dawn would bring regret or the promise of a new beginning.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.