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“Especially after everything you told me.”

With a wolflike growl, he returned to her and crushed his mouth to hers, his lips taking hers completely. The kiss changed. From tender and sensual, it became hungry, lustful, craving. Like a starved man, Raghnall was devouring her, his tongue lashing and caressing, claiming and owning her.

His hands went up and down her body, stroking the curve of her waist and down to her bottom. Grabbing two fistfuls of her butt, he lifted her up and sat her on the crenel. Bryanna felt the emptiness of the air behind her, the danger of the twenty-foot free fall strangely exhilarating.

And yet, she felt no fear of falling. She completely trusted him, as though they were on the ground.

“What if someone comes in?” she whispered against his lips.

“I’m going to tear them apart like a rag,” he growled back. “Hold on, lass…”

And before she could say anything to protest, he shifted her to the edge of the crenel, sank to his knees on the ground before her, and raised her skirt up to her waist, exposing her legs completely. She gasped, heat burning up her cheeks like boiling water.

“’Tis an interesting garment, lass,” he said, pushing her panties to the side. “Do ye mind terribly if I tear it?”

She’d been washing her panties every night and putting them before the fire to dry. Sometimes they didn’t dry if the fire died in the night, so she had to go some days without underwear. But, as she’d learned, medieval women didn’t wear underwear at all.

“I don’t mind if you do anything you want with me…” she whispered.

The growl he gave out could have belonged to a predator. She felt his hot fingers against her thigh, then heard the wrenching sound of fabric being torn and felt a cooling wisp of air against her heated flesh.

Raghnall brushed the inner side of her thigh up to her sex. “Oh, God almighty, ye’ll be the death of me, lass.”

And then his mouth was on her—there… She gasped from the overwhelming pleasure that spilled through her veins and all through her thighs. He held her hips and placed her legs on his shoulders, wrapping his arms around her pelvis.

He was moaning, making a feast of her, giving her the most intense sensations she’d ever felt. Liquid heat spread through her in quick bursts. Teasing, licking, sucking, he was giving and giving to her, making her lose her mind with pleasure.

Cool wind was brushing against her cheeks, against her heated lips, against her naked thighs, and the cold stone on which she sat was cooling her enough to keep her sane.

And then, she was close, so close to the edge…

“Raghnall…” She tugged at his hair gently. “Stop, I’m… I’m…”

He raised his head, his face as satisfied as a cat that had just enjoyed a bowlful of cream. “Aye, lass, come. If ye think ’tis the last time for today, ye dinna ken me at all. I havena even started.”

“No, no, I want this… I need you…inside… Please…”

He rose to his feet, the significant bulge in his trousers making her shudder again.

“What are ye doing to me, lass… Begging me…”

She sat up and leaned forward, undoing the belt that held his breeches and letting them slide down his legs, exposing a pair of muscular thighs and an erection that sprang at her, big and pink and beautiful. And she swallowed, wondering how he could fit inside her and craving him.

“Oh God…” she managed.

He leaned forward and picked her up, making her wrap her legs around his waist, then moved with her to the crenel and leaned her against the wall.

Oh wow…he was going to take her against the wall of the castle… She clenched in response, feeling herself getting even wetter.

“I want you, Raghnall Mackenzie,” she whispered, looking into his eyes. She reached down and found his erection, which was poking at her entrance, and let the tip slide right there. “I’m yours.”

With a moan that was half ache, half impatience, he pushed, burying himself completely within her. She gasped as she was stretched inside so completely, so fully that there was an edge of pain. He froze for a moment, panting wildly, staring into her eyes. “Aye, mine, lass.” He rasped. “My wife. My soul. My woman.” He dove inside her again. “Mine to protect.” Slowly, he retreated and then plunged in again, sending a burst of sparks through her veins. “Mine to love.” Another thrust and she was right there, at the edge again. “Mine to please.”

She saw he was at the edge, as well. At the edge of madness, of wild pleasure, at the edge of letting himself go, at the edge of saying something he wouldn’t be able to take back.

And then he began to pound within her, thrust after thrust of the wild, primitive ride of a man who wanted his woman. But he didn’t look away. With his head tilted back, his dark eyes were on hers, holding them captive.

“I will protect ye, lass,” he groaned, pounding within her like mad, driving her insane with pleasure. “Whatever it takes, I will protect ye… Ye’re safe with me… Ye’re the wife I never thought I needed. Ye’re the wife I always wanted. Ye’re…everything…”