Chapter 22
“Am I now?”
“Aye.” The word came out before she could stop it, hurtful and sharp. “I’m sorry that ye daenae believe in love.”
Murdock’s expression, already hard, turned to stone. The air between them crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on.
“That’s what ye think?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “That I daenae believe in it?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” Leona’s hands trembled at her sides. “Ye treat it like it’s meanin'less. Like wantin' more than duty and desire is childish foolishness.”
“I never said that.”
“Ye didnae have to. Yer actions speak clearly enough.”
Murdock crossed the distance between them in two strides.
Leona’s back hit the wall before she realized she’d been retreating. He braced one hand beside her head, caging her in, his body a wall of heat and barely controlled fury.
“Ye daenae want me to keep me distance lassie.” His breath was hot against her face, his eyes blazing. “If ye did, ye wouldnae let me do this.”
Then his mouth was on hers.
Not gentle. Not asking permission. But taking, claiming, demanding a response that she was helpless to deny. His free hand came up to cup the back of her head, tilting her face up to his as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that stole her breath.
Leona should have pushed him away. Should have maintained her dignity, her anger, her righteous fury at his high-handed decisions. Should have proven she was more than the desire that burned between them.
But her body had other ideas.
Her hands came up of their own accord, fisting in his tunic, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. A sound escaped her throat, something between a protest and a plea, and Murdock swallowed it with another devastating kiss.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with want.
“Or this,” he growled.
He scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the study. Papers flew as he used his free arm to clear his desk with one violent motion, sending inkpots and ledgers crashing to the floor. Then he lowered her onto the wooden surface and stepped between her legs, his hands spanning her waist.
“Murdock,” Leona gasped, but she didn’t know if she was protesting or begging.
“Or this.” His mouth found the curve of her throat, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing a path down to her collarbone. One hand came up to loosen the laces of her bodice, baring more skin to his attention.
Leona’s head fell back, her hands clutching at his shoulders for balance. This was madness. They were in his study, in the middle of the day, with guards and servants just outside the door. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could see.
But she couldn’t make herself care. Not when his mouth was doing wicked things to her, not when his hands were sliding up her thighs, bunching her skirts around her hips.
“Ye daenae believe in love either,” Murdock murmured against her throat. “Because if ye did, ye’d stop me. Ye’d maintain yer principles. Ye’d prove ye’re above this base desire.”
His hand found the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, fingertips tracing patterns that made her gasp.
“But ye’re nae stoppin' me, are ye, lass?”
“That’s nae fair,” Leona managed, though her voice was barely recognizable. “Usin' me body against me.”
“Nothin' about this is fair.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes, and the raw hunger in his own made her shiver. “But it’s honest. This thing between us… it’s the most honest thing either of us has.”
He kissed her again, slower this time but no less devastating. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting, exploring, claiming. Leona kissed him back with equal fervor, pouring all her anger and fear and desperate longing into it.
When they broke apart, both panting, Murdock’s hands went to work on her bodice again with surprising dexterity. The laces came completely undone this time under his skilled fingers, and he pushed the fabric aside, baring her shift-covered breasts to his gaze.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, and there was something almost reverent in his voice despite the hunger in his eyes.
His hands cupped her through the thin linen, thumbs finding her nipples and circling them until they pebbled. Leona bit her lip to keep from crying out, arching into his touch.
“Nay,” Murdock said roughly. “Daenae hide yer sounds from me. I want to hear what I do to ye.”
He lowered his head, mouth closing over one nipple through the fabric. The wet heat of him made Leona gasp, then moan as he sucked gently, his tongue working the sensitive peak. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him to her.
“Murdock,” she breathed. “Please.”
“Please, what?” He switched to her other breast, giving it the same attention. “Tell me what ye want, lass.”
Everything. She wanted everything. Wanted his hands on her, his mouth, his body. Wanted him to make her forget why she’d been angry, forget why this was a terrible idea, forget everything except the way he made her feel.
But she also wanted more than just this. Wanted his heart, his trust, his love. Wanted the impossible thing he kept insisting he couldn’t give.
“I want…” she started, but the words died in her throat as his hand slid higher up her thigh, fingertips brushing against the damp linen of her undergarments.
“Ye’re already wet for me,” he said, satisfaction clear in his voice. “Have been since I kissed ye, I’d wager.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Shame burned through her even as pleasure sparked at his touch. She shouldn’t want this so desperately. Shouldn’t have responded to him so easily when he was being insufferable and controlling and refusing to give her what she truly needed.
But her body didn’t. It only cared about the way his fingers were teasing her through the fabric, about the promise of pleasure she knew he could deliver.
“Let me touch ye properly,” Murdock murmured against her ear. “Let me remind ye what I can give ye.”
He didn’t wait for permission. His hand slipped beneath the linen, finding her slick and ready. Leona’s hips jerked at the contact, a sound escaping her that was pure need.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his fingers sliding through her folds. “Let me hear ye.”
He found her sensitive bundle of nerves and circled it with maddening lightness. Leona’s hands clutched at his shoulders, her breath coming in short gasps. It was too much and not enough all at once.
“More,” she heard herself beg. “Please, Murdock, more.”
“As ye wish.”
He increased the pressure, his fingers working her with skilled precision. His other hand came up to cup her breast, thumb flicking over her nipple in time with his strokes. The dual sensation made her head spin.
“Look at me,” Murdock commanded, his voice rough. “I want to see yer face when ye come apart.”
Leona forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity there nearly undid her. He was watching her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, like her pleasure was his sole focus.
“That’s it,” he murmured as she began to tremble. “Let go for me, lass. Let me see ye.”
His fingers moved faster, the pressure perfect, and Leona felt herself climbing toward something vast and overwhelming. Her thighs trembled, her core clenching around nothing, her whole body tightening like a bowstring drawn taut.
“Murdock,” she gasped. “I… I cannae…”
“Aye, ye can.” He kissed her, swallowing her next words. “Give it to me.”
The climax hit her like a physical blow. Pleasure crashed through her in waves, stealing her breath, her vision, her ability to think. She cried out against his mouth, her body arching off the desk as the sensations overwhelmed her.
Murdock worked her through it, his fingers gentling but not stopping, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until she was boneless and gasping.
When she finally stilled, he withdrew his hand slowly and pulled her against his chest, holding her while her breathing gradually steadied. She could feel his heart pounding against her cheek, could feel his rigid length poke her hip.
He wanted her. That much was undeniable. But he made no move to seek his own pleasure, content to simply hold her in the aftermath.
“This is what I can give ye,” he whispered against her hair, his voice rough with emotion she couldn’t name. “This passion. This protection. This… devotion to yer pleasure, to yer safety, to yer happiness. Why is it nae enough?”
The words hit her like cold water, and reality crashed back.
Leona pulled back enough to look up at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes despite his attempt to hide it. Her hand came up to cup his face, thumb stroking across his cheekbone.
“Because I want yer heart, too, me Laird,” she said quietly. “I want all of ye, nae just the pieces ye’re willing to share.”
Murdock went completely still. Something flickered across his face, raw and unguarded, before his expression shuttered again. He opened his mouth, and for a moment, Leona thought he might say something real, something true, something that would change everything between them.
But then a knock sounded at the door.
“Me Laird?” It was Hamish’s voice, apologetic but urgent. “The council requests yer presence. They’ve heard about the weddin' and have… concerns.”
Murdock’s jaw clenched. He stepped back from Leona, putting distance between them with clear reluctance. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing still uneven.
“I’ll be there shortly,” he called out, his voice admirably steady, given the circumstances.
“Aye, me Laird.”
Footsteps retreated down the corridor.
The silence that fell between them was heavy, weighted with everything unsaid.
Leona slid off the desk on shaking legs, her hands trembling as she tried to right her clothes. Her bodice laces seemed impossibly complicated, her fingers refusing to cooperate.
Murdock moved to help her, his touch gentle now, almost tender. He tied the laces with care, then smoothed down her skirts, his hands lingering on her waist.
“Leona,” he started, but she shook her head.
“Daenae.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Just… daenae.”
She couldn’t hear this right now. Couldn’t listen to him explain again why desire and protection should be enough, why she should settle for half of what she wanted. Of what they both deserved.
Not when her body still thrummed with the aftershocks of pleasure he’d given her. Not when she could still feel the ghost of his hands on her skin. Not when the scent of him surrounded her, making it hard to think clearly.
She needed space. Needed air. Needed to remember why she’d been angry before he’d kissed her senseless.
“The council is waitin',” she said, straightening her spine with effort. “Ye should go.”
“We’re nae done talkin' about this.”
“There’s nothin' left to say.” She finally met his eyes, letting him see the hurt beneath her desire. “Ye’ve made yer decision. In two days, I’ll marry ye. What more do ye want from me?”
“Everythin'.” The word was torn from him, raw and honest. “I want everythin'', lass. But I daenae ken how to give ye what ye’re askin for in return.”
The admission hung between them, vulnerable and terrible.
Leona wanted to reach for him. Wanted to tell him that maybe they could figure it out together, that maybe she didn’t need all the answers right now, that maybe this could be enough if they both tried.
But the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, she knew that ‘maybe’ wasn’t good enough. Not for something as permanent as marriage. Not for the rest of her life.
“Then we’re at an impasse,” she said finally.
She walked to the door, her legs still unsteady, her whole body feeling borrowed and strange. Her hand was on the latch when his voice stopped her.
“Leona.”
She didn’t turn around. Couldn’t bear to see whatever expression was on his face.
“I’m nae the enemy,” he said quietly. “I’m tryin'. It’s just… harder than ye think.”
“I ken,” she whispered. “But that doesnae make it hurt any less.”