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She swallowed hard. She was sure her cheeks were already flushed, but she would be damned if she would allow him to corner and belittle her. She had been too obedient and too quiet all her life.
“If I remember correctly,” she retorted, “ye were the one who pulled back first.”
His smile faded, and she smirked in triumph.
“I was merely being careful.”
“Careful or…” She squinted at him. “… afraid?”
His eyes darkened, and his jaw ticked. Her satisfied smirk widened.
“Who kent,” she turned his words on him, “that the great Laird would be afraid of his wife?”
“Careful, Isla,” he growled. “Daenae provoke me.”
Isla raised an eyebrow, refusing to yield even an inch. “Nay, ye’re the one who keeps speakin’ of careful.” Her lips curled into a slow, taunting smile. “Keep yer caution, me Laird. I’ll keep me courage.”
She turned to move past him by and find refuge in the Great Hall, but she didn’t get the chance. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the quiet corridor. Before she had time to react, she found herself pressed against the wall. One powerful hand came to rest on the stone wall beside her head, caging her in.
“I warned ye,” he growled.
All her boldness evaporated as the torchlight carved sharp shadows across the hard lines of his face down to the curve of his lips. And then his lips descended on hers.
This was not the peck they had shared at the chapel. No. This was a Highland storm rolling down the mountains, threatening to seize everything in its path.
His mouth claimed hers, fierce and demanding. It sent her shoulders against the cold stone, though the heat pouring off him felt like it could set the whole castle alight.
For one stunned heartbeat, Isla forgot to breathe. Her mind emptied as her body awakened. Without even thinking, her fingers curled into the thick wool of his plaid, clinging to the folds just to stay standing.
He must have felt the slight give of her knees, because his hands settled on her waist and pulled her firmly against him. His grip dwarfed her there, as though she had been made to fit inside it.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he deepened the kiss, stealing every breath. Without realizing it, she rose on her tiptoes, her hands sliding higher to his shoulders.
His mouth opened slightly, and she felt his velvety tongue slide across her lower lip. She gasped at the sensation, and his tongue plunged into her mouth.
It was as if she were hit by lightning.
She wrapped her arms around his neck on instinct, and he pushed her harder against the wall. His breathing grew ragged as his hands spread wide against her waist, and her whole body seemed to melt into the heat of him.
Then he stilled. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her, fighting to steady his breathing. His hands dropped from her waist, every muscle rigid with restraint.
Isla felt the change and let her arms fall to her sides.
Alisdair stepped back. The cold that rushed in where his warmth had been left her aching. He dragged a hand through his hair, his jaw tight.
“We should head back,” he said, his voice rough.
Isla was still struggling to catch her breath as she watched him walk away down the corridor. She lifted her fingers to her swollen lips, her heart still racing as though she had never actually left his arms.
CHAPTER NINE
DAY TO NIGHT
Isla woke in her chamber to morning light filtering through the curtains, and it took her a few moments to realize where she was. She had slept in this same bed for days now, but this morning she woke up as someone entirely different.
This morning she woke up as Lady MacLeod.
She remembered all of it—the wedding, the celebration, the kiss in the corridor. Her fingers pressed to her mouth, somehow still able to feel the kiss, the way his hand had felt closing around her waist.
