Chapter 9
Leona had never felt so overwhelmed in her life.
The clanswomen had finally released her from their enthusiastic welcome, though not before Sheena had extracted promises that Leona would visit the village soon, and Fiona had insisted on helping her choose fabrics for new dresses.
Now she found herself seated to Murdock’s right at the dinner table, acutely aware of every breath he took, every slight movement.
Rufus sat across from her, looking uncomfortable in his borrowed tunic, picking at his food. Hamish occupied the seat at the far end, grinning as if he’d just heard the world’s best joke. And Murdock…
Murdock sat rigid beside her, his jaw clenched, radiating tension like heat from a forge.
“So, Lady Leona,” Sheena said from her seat further down the table, her eyes bright with curiosity. “How did ye and the Laird meet? We’ve heard bits and pieces, but I’d love to hear the story from ye.”
Leona’s mind raced. What had she and Murdock agreed on? Had they even discussed this?
“I…” she started, then felt Murdock shift beside her.
His hand moved under the table, finding hers where it rested on her thigh. The contact sent a jolt through her system, electric and immediate. His palm was warm and calloused, and it completely engulfed her smaller hand. He gave a gentle squeeze, as if to say, I’ve got this.
But he didn’t remove his hand. And Leona found she couldn’t breathe properly with his thumb now drawing slow, deliberate circles on her palm.
“We met under… unusual circumstances,” he began, his voice steady even as his thumb continued its maddening movement. “Lady Leona showed great courage when I was in need. I was impressed.”
“How romantic!” Ailsa sighed. “Was it love at first sight?”
Leona felt heat flood her cheeks.
Murdock’s thumb pressed into the center of her palm, and she had to bite back a gasp. Was he doing this on purpose? Making her lose focus while he answered questions?
“I wouldnae say first sight,” Murdock replied, and she caught the hint of dark humor in his voice. “But there was… an immediate awareness.”
That was one way to put it.
Leona remembered seeing him in the dungeons, bloodied and bound, and feeling like she’d been struck by lightning.
“And what about ye, me Lady?” Fiona asked, leaning forward with interest. “What did ye think when ye first saw him?”
Leona opened her mouth to answer, but at that exact moment, Murdock’s hand shifted. His fingers laced through hers, his thumb finding her wrist and pressing against her pulse point.
The touch was innocent to anyone watching, just a betrothed couple holding hands under the table.
But the slow, deliberate stroke of his thumb against the sensitive skin of her inner wrist made her nipples pebble against the fabric of her dress.
The sensation was so sudden, so unexpected, that she gasped.
“Are ye all right, dear?” Sheena asked, concern lacing her voice.
“Fine,” Leona managed, her voice coming out breathier than intended. “Just… the wine went down wrong.”
She was acutely aware of Murdock beside her, of the way his shoulders were shaking slightly. The bastard was trying not to laugh.
She turned to look at him, meaning to glare, but found his dark eyes already on her. The heat in his gaze stole whatever reprimand she’d been about to deliver. His thumb continued drawing torturous circles on her wrist, and she watched his pupils dilate as he noticed her reaction.
He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“I thought,” Leona said, dragging her attention back to Fiona, trying desperately to remember the question, “that he was the most stubborn man I’d ever met.”
Laughter rippled around the table.
“Aye, that sounds about right,” Hamish said cheerfully. “Did he scowl at ye? He scowls at everyone.”
“He did,” Leona confirmed, finally managing to pull her hand free from Murdock’s grasp. She immediately missed the warmth, the connection. “Though I gave as good as I got.”
“I like her,” Sheena declared, raising her cup. “To Lady Leona, who’s brave enough to stand up to our Beast!”
“To Lady Leona!” the table chorused, drinking deeply.
Leona smiled and nodded her thanks, but under the table, she felt Murdock’s hand return. This time, it settled on her knee, and the heat of his palm burned through the layers of her skirt. Her breath hitched.
Conversation flowed around them. Hamish told a story about a training mishap that had everyone laughing. Sheena shared clan gossip. Rufus, gradually relaxing, asked questions about the horses.
But Leona could barely focus. Murdock’s hand remained on her knee, not moving, just resting there like a brand. She was hyperaware of every point of contact, of the way her body responded to even this simple touch. Her skin felt too tight, too warm. Her pulse raced.
She reached for her wine cup, needing something to do with her hands, and her arm brushed against his. The contact made her shiver despite the warmth of the room.
“Cold?” Murdock asked, his voice pitched low for her ears only.
“Nay,” she whispered. “The opposite.”
His hand tightened fractionally on her knee, and she saw his jaw clench.
Good. She wasn’t the only one affected by this.
“The festival is in a week,” Murdock announced suddenly, his voice carrying across the table. “The council has planned it to celebrate our betrothal. The whole clan will gather.”
“How wonderful!” Sheena beamed. “We havenae had a proper celebration in years!”
“Aye, well.” Murdock’s hand finally left Leona’s knee, and she felt the loss like a physical ache. “Lady Leona and I will visit the village tomorrow. Let the people see her properly.”
“Just the two of ye?” Hamish asked, that mischievous glint back in his eyes. “How cozy.”
“Someone needs to stay and oversee Rufus’s trainin',” Murdock said flatly. “That would be ye.”
“Of course, me Laird. Happy to help.” Hamish’s grin suggested he knew exactly why Murdock wanted to be alone with Leona.
The meal continued, but Leona found she couldn’t taste anything she ate. Her entire focus was on the man beside her, on the occasional brush of his arm against hers, on the way she could feel his gaze on her even when she wasn’t looking at him.
By the time the last course was cleared, Leona felt wound tight as a bowstring, every nerve ending alive and singing.
“If ye’ll excuse us,” Murdock said, standing abruptly. “I need to discuss the arrangements for tomorrow with Lady Leona. In private.”
Knowing looks were exchanged around the table, but no one protested.
Leona rose on unsteady legs, her face burning.
“Good night, everyone,” she managed. “Thank ye for the warm welcome.”
She followed Murdock out of the dining hall, feeling the weight of curious eyes on her back. He moved through the corridors with purposeful strides, and she had to hurry to keep up.
“Where are we goin'?” she asked.
“Me study. We need to talk.”
But when they reached the study, and he closed the door behind them, the sound echoing in the quiet space, Leona wasn’t sure talking was what either of them had in mind.
Murdock moved to stand behind his desk, as if the furniture could provide some barrier between them. But his eyes never left hers, dark and intense and hungry.
“The festival is in a week,” he began, his voice rough. “Before that, we need to visit the village. Tomorrow. Just the two of us.”
“Why just us?” Leona asked.
“Because we need to appear as a couple. A real couple.” He leaned forward, palms flat on the desk. “And we cannae do that with an audience watching our every move.”
“So we’re going alone?”
“Aye. And before we go, I’ll give ye a tour of the castle. Show ye the important places, the layout. We’ll need privacy for that.”
“Privacy,” Leona repeated, her mouth dry. “To set our story straight.”
“Among other things.”
There it was again. That weighted phrase that promised more than just talking.
Leona moved closer to the desk, her heart pounding. “What other things?”
Murdock’s jaw clenched. “Ye ken what other things, lass. Daenae play coy.”
“I’m nae playin'' anythin.” She reached the desk and placed her own hands on the surface, leaning forward to mirror his position. They were separated by mere feet now, tension crackling between them. “Ye’re the one being vague.”
“Vague?” His voice dropped to that dangerous murmur that made her stomach flutter. “Fine. Ye want me to be clear? We need to practice.”
“Practice what?”
“Being a couple. Lookin' comfortable with each other. Touchin'.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Actin' like we cannae keep our hands off each other. Because that’s what people will expect from a newly betrothed couple.”
Heat flooded through Leona’s body. “And how exactly do we practice that?”
Murdock pushed off the desk, moving around it with predatory grace. “Like this.”
He closed the distance between them in two strides, his hand coming up to cup her face. Leona’s breath caught as his thumb traced her cheekbone, his touch both gentle and possessive.
“This,” he murmured, his other hand finding her waist, “is what a man does when he wants a woman. When he’s staking a claim.”
“I’m nae property to be claimed,” Leona managed, though her voice came out breathless.
“Nay, ye’re nae.” His hand tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “But ye’re mine to protect. Mine to…” he trailed off, his gaze intense. “Ye came here askin' for protection, lass. Ye got yer wish. But it’ll be on me terms.”
“Yer terms?”
Something about his tone, about the way he was looking at her, made her pulse race for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
“Aye. Ye wanted to stay? Ye’ll stay. Ye wanted protection? I’ll protect ye. But ye’ll do it me way. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the village. Ye’ll stand close to me. Ye’ll touch me when appropriate. Ye’ll smile and play the part of a woman who wants to be exactly where she is.”
“And if I daenae want to play along?”
His thumb brushed her lower lip, and she felt the touch all the way to her toes. “Then ye’re a worse liar than I thought.”
The words hung between them for a heartbeat. Then his control shattered.
His hand fisted in her hair, the other kneading her waist as his mouth crashed down onto hers. The kiss was brutal, consuming, nothing like the careful touches at dinner. This was raw need finally unleashed.
His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding. Leona gasped against him, her hands clutching his tunic as he kissed her like he was trying to devour her whole. His teeth caught her bottom lip, and she moaned.
He walked her backward until her spine hit the wall. His body pressed against hers, hard and unyielding. She could feel every muscle, every plane, his thick arousal straining against her belly.
“This is wrong,” he growled against her mouth, but his hands contradicted his words. One angled her head. The other slid down to grip her hip, pressing her against him.
“Then stop,” she challenged breathlessly.
Instead, his mouth moved to her throat, teeth scraping the sensitive skin. His hand found her breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric.
Even through the layers, the touch sent lightning through her. Her nipples pebbled instantly, tight and aching, and when he circled one with his thumb, she whimpered.
Heat pooled between her thighs, dampness gathering as her body responded shamelessly. His thigh pushed between her legs, and the pressure against her core made her cry out.
“Christ,” he muttered, his voice ragged.
His hand left her breast to grip her thigh, hitching her leg around his hip. The new angle brought his hardness directly to her core, and when his hips rolled forward, grinding, pleasure sparked through her like wildfire.
Her nipples were sensitive against her dress, aching with every breath. When her chest brushed against his, the friction was almost too much.
His mouth found hers again, this kiss somehow deeper, more desperate. He kissed her like he was drowning. His hand slid up her leg, bunching her skirts. His calloused palm blazed a trail over her stocking, past her garter, finding bare skin.
They both groaned at the contact.
“We have to stop,” he said against her lips, even as his fingers slid to her inner thigh. “This is madness.”
But he didn’t stop. His fingers crept higher, and when they brushed the damp fabric between her legs, Leona nearly came apart. The sensation was overwhelming, heat and pressure and an ache that demanded relief.
He pressed harder, stroking her through the thin, soaked fabric. “Hell,” he breathed, his control visibly fraying. “Ye’re…”
His hips ground against her, his arousal thick and insistent. The friction was maddening for them both. His fingers moved in deliberate circles, and pleasure coiled tighter in her belly.
“Murdock,” she gasped, her head falling back against the wall. “Please…”
A sharp knock interrupted them.
“Me Laird? There’s an urgent matter that needs your attention.”
Murdock jerked away like he’d been burned. He steadied her when she swayed, then stepped back, running a shaking hand through his hair. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving.
“I’ll be right there,” he called, his voice remarkably steady. He looked at her, and she saw self-loathing war with desire. “Go. Now.”
Leona pushed off the wall on trembling legs and quickly smoothed her skirts. Her body screamed for completion, her lips swollen, her core aching.
“This changes nothin',” he said harshly.
She fled, but they both knew he was lying.