Chapter Eighteen #2
The way she greeted him sent a tingle through his body. He crossed the room, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. The book—if it could be called that—looked less like a text and more like an object that might summon a demon if mishandled.
“What in God’s name is that thing?”
“This,” Elise said with a disdainful curl of her lip, “is the only thing we’ve been able to find about MacFinnan War Weavers. Jenna brought it from Skye.”
He frowned, gaze sliding over the arcane symbols stamped into the leather cover. “And ye are certain that’s what ye are? A War Weaver?”
She lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “No. Not sure at all. But it makes sense. At least, it would if I could make head or tail of all this arcane claptrap. I swear whoever wrote this was just trying for dramatic effect.”
Jamie leaned back on his hands, studying her. There were dark circles under her eyes. “Ye’ve been at this all day?”
“Well… yes.”
“And? Did ye find anything?”
She shut the book with a frustrated thud, the candle flickering from the displaced air.
“Nothing. I can’t get it. Rose tried helping me.
Jenna too. We went through grounding exercises, focus techniques—nothing works.
I can feel it, this…this something in me, like a knot I can’t untie. But it won’t respond. Not to anything.”
He reached out, curling a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it isnae meant to be forced.”
Her mouth twisted. “That’s the problem. I don’t have to force my magic normally. My power has always been like a hurricane ready to sweep me away. The problem is controlling it. What good is War Weaving if it hurts your friends as much as your enemies?”
He didn’t like the edge in her voice—a mix of fear and determination. Determination, he admired. Fear, he wanted to banish with his bare hands.
He shook his head. “Elise…I dinna want ye doing anything dangerous.”
Her brows rose. “It’s a little late for that don’t you think? And besides, you’re planning on doing something dangerous.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?” she retorted.
He didn’t answer at first. Couldn’t. Because the truth twisted something low and deep inside him.
Finally, he forced the words out. “Because I canna lose ye. Because the idea of something happening to ye—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “It would kill me.”
The room quieted. The only sound was the faint roar of the sea beyond the stone walls.
Elise drew in a breath. “Jamie…”
He reached for her, and she came willingly, sliding into his arms as though she belonged there. As though she’d always belonged there.
Her head fit beneath his chin, her hand curled in his plaid. She smelled of salt and candle smoke and something warm he could never name.
“I don’t want to argue,” she murmured into his chest.
“Good,” he said, voice low. “Then do as ye are told for once.”
She leaned back and smiled up at him. “I’m afraid doing what I’m told is not something I’ve been very good at.”
He snorted a laugh. “Really? I hadnae noticed.”
Her eyes met his, and his stomach fluttered.
“Elise…”
She kissed him before he could finish the sentence.
It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was a kiss that stole the air from his lungs, that made the world contract to the shape of her mouth.
He kissed her back, one hand sliding to the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist as she pressed closer.
She made a small sound—half sigh, half groan—and it ignited something fierce in him. He cupped her face, deepening the kiss, tasting the heat of her, the urgency.
She broke away, breathless, and whispered, “Stay.”
He didn’t know whether she meant just for the night or forever. But it didn’t matter because he was already lowering her onto the bed, already following her down, already lost.
Her fingers threaded into his hair as he kissed along her jaw, her throat, feeling her arch into him. Every part of him answered her—body tightening, chest aching, breath turning ragged.
“Jamie,” she whispered, his name like a plea. “Don’t you dare stop.”
His laugh came out rough, full of everything he felt for her and didn’t have the courage to name. “As my lady commands.”
He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the way her lips softened beneath his, the way her hands slid beneath his shirt, palms warm against his skin.
His fingers went to the ties of her dress, feeling big and clumsy in his eagerness to get her out of it.
She laughed and helped him, shrugging the dress down her shoulders and then wriggling to shed herself of it.
The candlelight caught the curves and contours of her naked body in a way that made his mouth go dry. Dear Lord, she was exquisite.
With an eagerness that matched his own, she unwound his plaid and then yanked his shirt off over his head, hands roaming his chest, tracing the scars he rarely let anyone see. With her, he didn’t mind. With her, nothing needed hiding.
He kissed down her throat, her collarbone, the curve of her shoulder, learning every sound she made, every way she breathed his name. He tried to go slowly, to savor each moment, but she pulled him down atop her and wrapped her legs around him.
“Jamie, please.”
The plea almost undid him. Lowering his weight onto her, he braced his hands to either side of her head, staring into her eyes as he thrust his hips.
He sank into her with a groan, feeling her stretch to fit all of him.
For a moment he just held himself there, unmoving, trying to fix this sensation, this feeling of completeness in his memory.
Then he could hold himself still no longer.
He began to move. Their bodies soon found a natural rhythm as Elise moved under him, tilting her hips to meet his increasingly frantic thrusts.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. His forehead pressed to hers, their breaths mingling.
She began to moan, sending a thrill like nothing he’d ever experienced racing through him, making his heart pound so furiously he was sure it would shatter his ribs.
He held her as she threw back her head and cried out, feeling her fall apart in his arms, feeling himself follow moments later with a shuddering groan.
It seemed to take an age for him to come back to himself.
When he did, he lifted his head and pressed soft kisses against her temple, her cheek—gentle where he’d been hungry moments before.
Her hands smoothed over his back, steady and warm.
They lay tangled together, breathing hard, neither wanting to move.
Elise was the one to break the silence. “Jamie?”
“Aye?”
“You’re staying.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Aye, lass. Ye willnae be rid of me tonight.”
If she is the woman for ye, hold on and don’t let go.
Jamie had no intention of letting go.
Ever.