"Aye, it was. I did want to escape ye, that’s true, but no’ because I still hated you. I was so confused and torn about what I was starting to feel for my enemy."
He smoothed the flyaway strands of hair back from her face. "After a lifetime of hating the mere name Mackinnon, I can imagine."
Callum stored up an ocean of passion, but her injuries dictated tenderness. Her injuries, and the great surge of love that tightened his chest.
Mhairi still looked troubled. "Our marriage willnae solve our difficulties like some magic spell. My father will still fight to get me back."
"I'll never give ye up, beloved." It emerged as a vow.
"Callum…" She sighed and moved closer for another kiss.
He drew away, studying that beautiful face. "You've never called me that before."
The humor he loved sparked in her eyes. "I called ye lots of other things."
He gave a huff of amusement. "Aye. And probably will again. You're a willful wee thing."
"We'll probably fight."
He arched one mocking eyebrow. "Probably?"
"Definitely."
"Will ye mind?"
She shook her head, smiling. "I'd rather fight with ye than anyone else."
"Och, mo leannan, ye humble me," he whispered.
He kissed her again, telling her without words how precious she was to him. Needing to take care not to jar her arm added an extra intensity to the kiss, as if lips alone conveyed everything he wanted to say.
This time she met him readily, and her tongue responded to his invasion with fluttering welcome. He twisted to angle her back in his arms so she draped across hi
s chest with her sore arm cradled between them. When Mhairi curled her good arm around his neck, sizzling heat flooded him and his kisses turned voracious.
By the time he raised his head, they were both gasping. His hands itched to discover her body with feverish caresses, but it wasn’t the time. "I love ye, Mhairi. I will always love you. Will ye come back to Achnasheen and marry me?"
To his surprise, worry shadowed her eyes. "Would it no’ be better if I continue on to Bruard and try to coax my father out of his rage? I cannae bear to think of men dying for my sake."
Callum sighed. For a brief interval, all that had mattered was the gorgeous woman in his arms. "Och, you're turning into a wee politician, lass. Always thinking of strategy."
She drew him down for another kiss, hot and hungry and long.
"No’ always." Her husky confession set his blood pumping hot with anticipation. Soon he’d discover all her secrets.
"Lass," he said with regret. "We both ken if your father gets his hands on ye again, he’ll never let ye set foot outside the castle walls until the day you die."
Her lips turned down. He could see that for her, too, the reality of their situation came crashing down. "And I’ll die married to John Drummond."
"What the devil?" Although the news wasn’t that much of a surprise. He'd seen the possessiveness in John Drummond's eyes when he looked at his fair cousin.
"It turns out my father and John had cooked up a scheme to put us together." Displeasure dripped from her words. Callum was petty enough to appreciate her unconcealed contempt for the plan.
"Ye ken it makes sense. It means ye could stay at Bruard as its lady. If ye were a man, you would have been laird, after all."
She cast him a mocking glance as she sat up. "Whose side are ye on, Callum Mackinnon?"
He caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Yours, beloved, now and always."