Under the Highlander's Spell(76)

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Whatever for? This is pure pleasure for me. I should be thanking you.”

She wondered if he knew that his words hinted at his love for her and paved the pathway to her heart.

“Zia—”

“Please, no discussions, no questions. I just want to enjoy this quiet time with you, just you and me, nothing else.”

She was grateful he obliged. But why stop him? Did she fear hearing him admit his love? For when he did, decisions would need to be made. Was she ready for them?

All troubled thoughts quickly vanished when he took the soap and ran it over her body, slipping and sliding over every curve, valley, mound, and down the length of her. His strokes were lazy soft caresses that covered every inch of her.

She sighed, though it sounded more like a moan, and when his touch turned intimate—firing her body, her very soul—she reciprocated until they came together, she sitting on top of him, her legs around his waist as he glided into her.

The cramped space left little room for movement, but his firm hands grasped her waist and set them in motion. It didn’t take long, though they were far from done, for he dried them both with hurried hands and had them on the bed in no time, where he proceeded to kiss her entire body.

They were tender kisses that drove her wild and soon had her begging for much more, and he obliged time and time again until they both could stand it no more and he took her in his arms and entered her for one last ride that left them both utterly breathless.

Sleep claimed Artair fast enough, and she was glad, for the night had been perfect and she didn’t want it spoiled by talk that would irritate either of them. Her eyes fluttered closed and she smiled. It had been a good night—no, a magical night—and tomorrow was a new day, a new beginning, and she would greet it with joy and deal with whatever it brought her.



Zia dressed, not surprised that she was alone. She hadn’t felt Artair stir beside her and he probably chose not to disturb her feeling she needed sleep. He was considerate that way, but then, Artair was always thoughtful when it came to her. He put her feelings and needs before his.

Her grandmother was right. He was a good man. So how did she keep her word to someone and not hurt her husband in the process?

Husband?

She kept making that mistake, thinking of him as her husband. But wasn’t she feeling that way? More and more she thought of Artair as her husband. More and more she referred to him as so.

She smiled. “This all will be settled soon enough. I’m sure of it.”

And she was. She knew that she and Artair would settle it agreeably, and it would be done. After all, he was reasonable and she was trying to be.

She was smiling broadly when she hurried down the stairs into the great hall. All the Sinclares were at the table before the large hearth, where they usually sat, and a few tables were occupied by warriors deep in conversation and the morning meal.

She weaved her way around the tables greeting the warriors, having gotten to know most of them when suddenly she heard her name shouted and she stopped dead when she saw that it was Artair.

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes rounded wide when she saw him standing in the middle, on top of the table where his family sat.

“I love you, Zia!”

She was too shocked to respond but everyone in the hall did with claps and cheerful shouts, a few stamping their feet.

“I love you with all my heart!” Artair shouted, grinning, and placed his hands over his heart.

She continued to stare, dumbfounded, and when it quieted and everyone stared at her, waiting, including Artair, who remained standing on the table like a centerpiece—she did the only thing she could.

She ran as quick as could be out of the hall.





Chapter 27




Zia ran past villagers who called out greetings to her, though she was in too much of a hurry to reciprocate. She kept her frantic pace, it taking her on the moor with a stitch in her side that finally forced her to stop running.

She leaned over, splaying her hands on her thighs and taking in laboring breaths while her rampantly beating heart felt ready to explode. But was it from exertion or did her heart pound because of Artair’s most impractical declaration of love in front of everyone?

“Stand up straight and don’t fight your breaths.”

Zia stood and turned though paid no attention to the warning of fighting her breathing, which only made it worse. But Artair had followed her and now stood staring at her. Expecting what?

“I didn’t expect you to run, but after the initial shock I realized why you did,” he said. He yanked his fur-lined cloak off and handed it to her.

She took it, realizing she was shivering, and wrapped it around her. “Why did I?”