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Amy licked her lips. “Come here.”

He sank between her knees, without breaking the deep eye contact. Amy felt like they were connected by something invisible, as though wrapped together in a large, warm plaid. And she didn’t know anymore where she ended and he began.

Craig hung over her.

“Ye’re mine, lass. Let me love ye like a man can love a woman.”

“Yes, please.”

He settled his cock against her entrance, and an acute awareness of that shot through her in a bolt of pleasure. Then he pushed. Stretching her deliciously, he pushed in slowly, filling her completely.

He held her in his arms as she arched her back, wrapping her legs around his torso. His gaze was on her, as though it had weight, as though it could caress her, too.

Then he withdrew, spilling more liquid velvet through her body.

And then he started to pound into her faster and faster. Hitting the right spot, he was bringing her higher and higher, to heights she’d never known before.

She’d had orgasms, yes.

But not this cosmic, electric, soul-shattering connection.

Like he sensed her, what she wanted, what made her tick.

And harder, and harder, and faster he went. Unlocking her. Letting something break free right in her core.

Her breath was erratic. They panted, moaned, grunted.

Something within her was stiffening with the sweet pleasure.

And soon—too soon—he brought her to the edge.

“Oh, Craig,” she moaned. “Oh, Craig!”

“Aye, my sweet, find yer release.”

With two more exquisite pounds, she was falling apart around him, clenching, unclenching, spasming, and softening.

Matching her rhythm, he sank into her, with her. He was coming, too, his body hardening, his movements abrupt, his fingers clenching Amy’s hips, digging into her.

With a shudder that rolled through his whole body, he collapsed on top of her. “My wife,” he whispered.

Amy wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. They breathed in one rhythm, his chest rising and falling with hers.

And as Amy was slipping away into sleep, peaceful and happy for the first time in a long time, a thought crawled into her mind.

How could she leave and break his heart now that she was falling in love with him?

Chapter 23

Hamish huddled in his cloak on the southern wall. Rain wasn’t that bad without the wind, just that damned wetness, though the damp seemed to penetrate his very bones. He’d been on guard duty for days—punishment for allowing Amy MacDougall into the underground storeroom.

Ah well.

She was looking for the secret tunnel, too, he knew it.

He’d never seen her before coming to Inverlochy, hadn’t even known John MacDougall had a daughter named Amy. But since he had only met with the clan chief and his guards twice, and in the woods, he hadn’t met any of the family members.

He did find it alarming John hadn’t alerted him that his daughter would be in the castle.