Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Logan kissed her again before Rose had fully finished saying the words.
They had hardly left her mouth before his hand tightened in her hair and his mouth came back to hers, warmer than before. It made Rose’s breath catch and her knees weaken beneath her.
Her hands clutched the front of his tunic. She felt the heat of him, the hard line of his chest beneath her palms, the scrape of his beard against her skin, and the low sound he made when she kissed him back.
And she kissed him back eagerly.
It opened something inside her that had been clenched since the night she had fled Briar Hall.
Logan’s hand cupped her face, his thumb firm at her cheek, tilting her so he could deepen the kiss until she felt it everywhere.
Her breath left her in a soft, helpless sound, and his arm slid more tightly around her waist, drawing her closer until there was no space left between them.
When he finally pulled back, it was barely enough for either of them to breathe.
His forehead hovered near hers. His eyes were dark, unguarded.
“Rose,” he said, voice rough.
Her fingers were still tangled in his tunic. She could feel his heart beating hard beneath the cloth, as unsteady as her own.
“Yes?”
His gaze searched her face, lingering on her mouth, her eyes, the loosened fall of her hair over her shoulders. “Dae ye want tae come wi’ me?”
Rose understood what he was asking. It made heat rise through her whole body and settle beneath her skin. A thousand warnings stirred in her, old voices, old lessons, old fears about propriety and consequence and a woman’s worth being held hostage by every choice she made.
Rose drew a shaking breath.
“Yes,” she whispered.
For a moment, he did not move. Then his hand closed around hers.
He led her steadily through the corridors, his body angled slightly before hers, shielding her even now from unseen eyes. The castle had gone hushed around them, the torches burning low, the stone passageways cool after the heat of the study. Her heart beat harder with every step she took.
When they reached his chamber, Logan paused with his hand on the latch.
He looked back at her, the question still there. Rose answered it by stepping closer.
His jaw tightened, and he opened the door.
The chamber was dim, lit only by the low glow of the hearth and one candle burning near the bed. The air smelled of smoke, wool, and him. Logan shut the door behind them, and the soft sound of the latch falling into place moved through Rose like a final breath before surrender.
For one heartbeat, they stood apart.
Then Logan crossed to her.
His large, warm hands came to her waist and her fingers curled into his tunic, pulling him close until his scent became her entire world. When he kissed her this time, there was nothing between them but an agonizing need and the aching relief of finally being this close.
Rose felt the edge of the bed behind her knees, and she sat, drawing him into her space. Logan followed, drawing her fully into the moment as he bent over her. A low groan escaped his throat and the sound vibrated straight through her skin.
Logan’s mouth left hers, trailing a path of fire along the line of her jaw. Rose’s breath caught as he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his mouth moving over her, learning every place that made her tremble.
“Rose,” he groaned, the sound vibrating against her throat as he nipped at the corded muscle there.
Logan pinned her wrists gently above her head, his heavy weight pressing her down into the mattress. Her back arched instinctively under him. He dropped his head, his tongue tracing the sensitive dip of her collarbone until she was shaking beneath his hands.
His hands moved down to the laces of her gown. He stripped the dress away in one heavy, deliberate motion, leaving her completely bare to the cool air of the chamber and the amber glow of the hearth.
His mouth followed the path of his hands. He dragged his lips down her throat, his stubble scraping her skin before his mouth closed over her breast. He took her nipple between his lips, sucking hard, his tongue swirling against the peak until her lungs seized and her skin burned beneath him.
He released her wrists, his calloused hands sliding down the sides of her ribs, mapping the curve of her waist before flattening against her stomach. Rose gasped, her abdomen contracting under his touch.
His fingers trailed lower, sliding between her thighs, parting them slowly.
He found her already wet and slick, his thumb finding the tight center of her heat and pressing flat against it.
Rose whined into the quiet room, her hips lifting off the bed toward his hand as he began a slow rub, sliding over her until she was trembling, her fingers desperately tangling in his hair to pull his mouth back to hers.
He let her kiss him, biting at his lower lip, before he shifted his weight. His palms slid down to grip her thighs, parting them wide.
“Rose,” Logan grunted, and then he drove inside her.
The blunt stretch of him filled her so completely it stole the air from her lungs, dragging a jagged sob from her throat.
Her back arched off the pillows as she took the full length of him.
He stayed still for a single heartbeat, letting her body adjust to the thick, unyielding heat of his presence, his hands pinning her wrists back down to ground her.
“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice a low, rough vibration that shook through her chest. “Open yer eyes, Rose. I want tae see ye when I take ye.”
She forced her eyes open, her vision blurring as she met his blown-wide pupils.
“Ye’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot against her damp neck. “Mine. Every inch o' ye is mine.”
He began to move. The rhythm was hard, heavy, and completely stripped of restraint.
Rose clung to him, her fingers tangling in the stubborn strands of his hair, her hips rising instinctively to meet every deep, punishing thrust. The friction built a blinding heat between them, a tight coil that spiraled higher and higher with every slide of his body against hers.
She could feel the exact moment his control began to fray, his thrusts growing shorter, faster, driving deeper into her until the tension snapped.
Rose cried out his name as her body convulsed around him, the climax shattering through her in tight, hard ripples of pleasure.
Logan let out a low, guttural groan a heartbeat later, driving deep into her one last time as his own release broke, his entire body shuddering hard as he poured himself into her.
He didn't pull away. He shifted his weight, pulling her flush against the hard planes of his chest, his arms locking around her with a protective certainty.
Rose melted into him, her head tucked beneath his chin, her cheek resting against the steady, heavy thud of his heart as she finally drifted into a deep sleep.
Rose woke to the pale wash of dawn spilling across unfamiliar stone.
For a moment, she did not move. She lay still beneath the heavy warmth of a blanket, her cheek resting against linen that smelled faintly of smoke and Logan’s skin.
The fire had burned low, only a small red glow remaining in the hearth.
Somewhere beyond the walls, a bird called once, and the sound made the morning feel impossibly ordinary.
Then she remembered. Her eyes opened fully as her heart gave one hard, startled beat.
She turned her head carefully. Logan was lying on his side facing her, one arm bent beneath the pillow, his dark hair disordered across his brow.
In sleep, the severity had gone from his face.
The line of his mouth was softer, his lashes dark against his cheeks.
One hand rested near her waist above the blanket, as if even in sleep some part of him had reached for her.
A rush of tenderness struck her so sharply she could hardly breathe.
Then panic followed.
It wasn’t regret. That frightened her most. There was no shame for the tenderness of the night or the truth she had given him.
But the world beyond that chamber existed still.
The castle. The clan. Christina. Conn. The narrow rules that had shaped her life long before she had ever crossed into Scotland.
If they were found here?—
Logan stirred.
Rose froze.
His brow tightened faintly before his eyes opened. For one suspended heartbeat, he looked at her without understanding. Then memory entered his gaze, and his hand at her waist flexed once.
“Rose,” he murmured.
The sound of her name in his morning-rough voice nearly undid all the panic she had tried to gather.
“Good morning,” she whispered, because she could not think of anything else to say.
A faint curve touched his mouth. Then his gaze shifted to the pale light at the window.
His expression changed and they both went still.
Rose sat up at once, gathering the blanket to her chest, her hair fallen in hopeless waves over her shoulders. “Oh.”
“Aye,” Logan said, sitting up more slowly, his voice rougher now.
The absurdity of it almost made her laugh. Instead, heat rushed into her face so fiercely she could not meet his eyes.
“I fell asleep,” she said.
“So did I,” he said, and she heard the faint strain of humor beneath his calm.
Rose looked at him then, and for one soft moment they simply stared at one another. His hair was wild, the bandage at his hand loosened from the night. He looked less untouchable than she had ever seen him, and the intimacy of that sight made her heart ache.
Then footsteps sounded faintly beyond the corridor.
Rose moved.
Logan was out of bed at once. He crossed to the door, listening, then glanced back at her. “Nay one’s outside.”
“Yet,” she whispered.
“Aye. Yet.”