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A deep, warm laugh rumbled from deep within Brodie’s chest—a rich, booming sound that echoed softly down the empty stone corridor. The tight tension in his broad shoulders melted away entirely, replaced by a dark, dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Ah,” Brodie growled softly, a wicked, breathtaking smile curving his lips as he looked down at her. “And ye have seen nothin’ of it yet.”

Before she could speak another word, Brodie swept his arm beneath her knees and lifted her effortlessly off her feet.

Sheona gasped in surprise, a bright, melodic laugh bubbling up from her chest as she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, holding on as he gathered her close against his chest. He turned on his heel, carrying her easily down the moonlit passage toward the warm, heavy oak doors of their bedchamber, leaving the dark ghosts of the past far behind them in the night.

EPILOGUE

The heavy oak door of their bedchamber swung shut behind them with a soft, definitive thud, the sound sealing them away from the rest of the world. The only light came from the low-burning peat fire in the hearth, casting a warm, dancing glow across the stone floor and the heavy, dark wood of the four-poster bed.

Brodie carried her across the room, his arms like bands of forged iron around her, yet his touch was impossibly gentle as he lowered her onto the soft furs covering the mattress. He did not step away immediately, his body hovering over hers, his shadow a comforting blanket in the flickering light.

Sheona looked up at him, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. The fear and shame from the gallery had been burned away by his kiss, replaced by a different kind of trembling—anticipation, a raw, nerve-endings-exposed vulnerability. She watched as he knelt on the bed beside her, his dark eyes roaming over her face, tracing the line of her jaw, the swell of her lips, and the bruise that was already beginning to fade under his intense gaze.

“Are ye certain?” he asked, his voice a low, rough murmur that vibrated through her.

Sheona did not answer with words. Instead, she reached up, her fingers finding the leather thong that held his hair at his nape. She pulled it free, and the thick, dark strands fell around his face, softening the hard, angular lines of his features. She combed her fingers through the silken weight of it; her gaze locked with his. It was all the answer he needed.

A satisfied smile touched Brodie’s lips. He leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her forehead, the tip of her nose, and the corner of her mouth. His hands moved to the laces of her gown, his fingers deft and sure.

He did not rush. He worked the knots loose with a patient reverence that made her breath catch. As the fabric parted, his gaze followed, his eyes darkening with every inch of skin he revealed. He slid the heavy wool from her shoulders, his knuckles brushing against her skin and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The cool night air kissed her flesh, raising goosebumps, but the heat in Brodie’s eyes was a far more potent force.

He leaned in, his lips finding the delicate hollow where her neck met her shoulder. He placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss there, his tongue flicking out to taste her, and a soft gasp escaped her. He moved lower, his mouth worshipping the newly exposed skin, his breath warm against her collarbone.

“Brodie,” she breathed.

“Hush, lass,” he murmured against her skin. “Just feel.”

He continued his slow, deliberate undressing, his lips never ceasing their exploration. He kissed the swell of her breasts above the simple linen chemise she wore, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending a sharp, delicious jolt straight to her core. Her hands, which had been limp at her sides, now came to life, her fingers tangling in the thick fur of the bedspread as she arched into him, silently begging for more.

He finally drew the chemise over her head, and she lay before him, completely bare to his gaze. A wave of self-consciousness washed over her, and she instinctively moved to cover herself, but he stopped her, his hands gently but firmly taking her wrists and placing them back at her sides.

“Daenae hide from me, Sheona,” he commanded, his voice soft but unyielding. “Ye are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

His eyes held hers, and in their depths, she saw no judgment, only a raw, unbridled hunger that was matched by an even deeper tenderness. He lowered his head, his lips finding the tight, pebbled peak of her nipple. He circled it with his tongue, teasing, tormenting, before drawing it into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. He suckled gently, then with more pressure, his other hand coming up to cup and knead her other breast, his thumb rolling over its sensitive tip.

A low moan tore from her throat, her back bowing off the bed. Sensations she had never known, never even dreamed of, flooded her senses, a hot, sweet ache building deep in her belly. He moved to her other breast, giving it the same lavish attention, his mouth and hands working in perfect, maddening harmony. He was mapping her body, learning its secrets, claiming it as his own.

His kisses began a slow, languid journey down her torso. He traced the line of her ribs with his tongue, dipped into the shallow well of her navel, his hands stroking the soft skin of her hips and thighs. She was trembling uncontrollably now, her body a taut, quivering string, poised on the edge of something unknown and terrifying and wonderful.

He settled himself between her thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them gently apart. He looked up at her from under his dark lashes, his eyes burning with a question. She could only manage a shaky nod, her breath hitching in her throat. He lowered his head, and the first touch of his tongue against her slick folds was a revelation.

It was a shock, a bolt of pure, white-hot pleasure that shot through her entire body. He licked her slowly, deliberately, exploring every soft, wet crevice. He found the small, throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex and circled it with the tip of his tongue, again and again, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Brodie, please,” she gasped, the words torn from her. “Please… I cannae…”

He did not stop. He intensified his efforts, his tongue flattening against her clit, lapping at her with firm, steady strokes. He slid one long, thick finger inside her, and she cried out, her inner muscles clamping down on the intrusion. He began to move his finger in and out, a slow, mimicking rhythm that matched the movement of his tongue. The pressure inside her built to an unbearable crescendo, a coiling spring of pleasure so tight it was almost painful.

And then it snapped.

Her orgasm crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave, a violent, shattering release that stole her breath and her vision. A sharp cry was wrenched from her lips as her body convulsed, wave after wave of exquisite pleasure wracking her frame. Brodie held her through it, his mouth and hands gentle now, guiding her down from the dizzying heights.

As the tremors subsided, she lay limp and boneless, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat. Brodie rose over her, his body a magnificent, powerful shadow in the firelight. He quickly shed his own clothes, his hard, muscular body revealed to her hungry gaze. His manhood was thick and rigid, the tip already glistening with moisture.

He positioned himself at her entrance, the blunt head of his manhood nudging against her wet folds. He paused, his eyes searching hers.

“I love ye, Sheona,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “With all that I am.”