Page 48 of Her Forbidden Highlander Husband

Her past experiences had left her feeling the opposite. But this was so different, and they hadn’t even completed the act.

Liam laughed through his gasps and held her close, kissing her hair and thanking her repeatedly. She felt like a queen being worshipped for pardoning a prisoner and smiled at the silly thought.

She’d done as she wished—she’d touched and explored the parts that made him a man and he’d enjoyed it. And the way he looked at her now was even more adoring than when he’d thought her to be a princess he was unworthy of. She felt closer to him, as if she knew something about him no one else in the world knew.

He certainly knew the secrets of her pleasures, but she knew his as well.

“In all the years you thought of us being man and wife, you never considered this?” she asked as she traced a fingertip around his nipple.

“No. I’m sorry to say my imaginings lack adventure.”

“But this was better?” she asked, hating the nervous tremor in her voice. The power she’d felt was already fading back into insecurities.

“So much better. I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night telling you all the ways you enchant me, Ev. But you’ve thoroughly drained me of my strength, and I fear I’m about to succumb to the sleep of the dead.”

He laughed at himself, and she laughed, too.

“Alas, I’ll have to make do with the general knowledge I have enchanted you.”

“I will make up for it in the morning when I’m rested.” He leaned over to kiss her before flopping back on his pillow.

He fulfilled his promise before dawn when the sky outside their window was no more than a pale gray. She woke to the shock of his mouth on her. What was the word he’d used? Enchanted?

Yes. She was indeed enchanted.

When she woke again later, it was full light and Liam was gone. Rather than leave their bed right away to get ready for the day, she took a few moments to settle in to the joy she’d experienced with her husband. She felt safe with what they’d done so far. Her chest tightened with worry when she thought of having a man lie on top of her.

The weight of him crushing the breath from her body, the burning pain…

The old panic returned, and she tried to calm her heart while pushing away the memories of foul breath and cruel laughter.

Tears welled in her eyes as she angrily got dressed. She hated that this nightmare had taken hold and pushed away the security she’d experienced earlier with her husband.

It wasn’t fair that every joy was tainted by those men. They were dead, yet they still haunted her life, ruining her happiness. Even now, as she left their room, she couldn’t remember the scent of Liam, instead recalling sour ale and sweat. Rather than go down to the hall, she turned and found her way to the battlements.

She huddled in a corner and wailed out her rage, allowing the wind to carry the sound and the pain away.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam was much too happy to spend his morning leading drills. Instead, he sent them off to do work in the village and he spent time in the bailey playing with the horde of children.

The MacKinlay men had created quite the brood over the last years. Four boys from Lachlan and Kenna, and a girl and boy from Cam and Mari. He loved hearing them laugh, especially when Gwennie joined in.

She’d been shy with the bigger lads at first, but she’d found her way, and now she followed them about. Sometimes too closely, which was the case when Douglas turned sharply and ran into the little girl, knocking her over and falling on top of her.

The lass made no sound at first and Liam felt as if his feet were weighed down, keeping him from reaching her fast enough. When he did, it was to get the first blast of her cries as she gripped onto him so tightly he couldn’t even see where she was hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Douglas said with wide eyes.

“It’s fine, lad. I know you didna mean to do it.” He mussed the boy’s hair. “Go quick and ask your mother to come help.” With a nod, Douglas ran off.

Kenna knew about healing, though Liam didn’t think there was much to be done for this injury. Still, if there was anything to help his daughter, Liam would surely try.

“Let’s see what we have here. Och, your hands are a bit brushed up, and your dress is torn, but it will be well.” He scooped her up to carry her over to the well. Removing a bit of cloth from his sporran, he made it wet to clean the blood from her hands. She let out another wail, but he continued on knowing it had to be done.

Liam picked up his dirk to cut the tattered piece of her dress away, and she cried even louder. He’d sooner pull his dirk and cut out his heart than have to cause her harm.

“Please, no.” Her begging nearly did him in.