“Get off me!” Sìleas shouted, and started pounding her fists against his shoulders and chest.
“What? What’s wrong?” She didn’t answer, but she was clawing at him and squirming like a fish, so he rolled off her. “Sìl, what did I do?”
She threw off the covers and leaped out of the bed. He caught a glimpse of long legs in the moonlight from the window before she jerked her shift down.
She lit the candle and turned furious eyes on him. “What are ye doing in my bed, Ian MacDonald?”
“It’s my bed, too,” he said, trying to get his brain to work. His cock was so hard it hurt him. He had been so close…
“How dare ye come in here when I’m fast asleep and think ye can have your way with me.”
“You’re my wife,” Ian said. “That means I can have my way with ye.”
“So I’m your wife now, am I? Ye didn’t think so before.” She folded her arms beneath her breasts, and his throat went dry.
“I… I’ve decided to accept the situation,” he said, his eyes and thoughts on her breasts. The skin of his palms tingled with the memory of the feel of them in his hands. “I’m ready to take ye for my wife now. Quite ready.”
“Are ye now? And what has made ye come to this decision after all this time?”
She was tapping her foot, not a good sign. Ach, Sìl even had pretty ankles…
“Ian!” she said to get his attention. “I asked what made ye decide ye wanted to be married to me. I thought I ‘disgusted’ ye.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gave her a slow look up and down.
“Ye don’t disgust me now,” he said, his voice thick. “And I don’t disgust you either, judging from the way ye were kissing me.” He couldn’t help grinning when he said it, which was probably a mistake.
“I was asleep!” She had her hands on her hips now, and her foot was tapping furiously.
“Maybe ye were at first,” he said, finding he was enjoying teasing her, “but I don’t believe ye were sleeping when ye kissed me back.”
“I thought I was dreaming,” she snapped. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“For not knowing, ye were doing fine,” he said, grinning at her. “Verra fine indeed.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked prettier still. He grabbed a handful of her voluminous nightshift and pulled her closer.
“I know ye heard me say some unfortunate words about ye before I left, and I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. But I find ye appealing now.” He dropped his gaze to the lovely, rounded breasts just inches from his face. “Verra appealing.”
When he looked up, her eyes were boring holes into him. He couldn’t think for the life of him what he was saying wrong now. What woman didn’t like to hear a compliment?
“What you’re saying is that ye want to take me to bed,” she said.
“Absolutely,” he said.
“And that’s the reason ye want to be my husband.”
“It’s one of the reasons,” he said, speaking carefully now. “I’ve also seen all you’ve done for my family, and how attached they are to ye. My mother is very fond of ye.”
“So ye want to keep me because your mother is fond of me,” she said. “That would be a rare comfort to any woman.”
The conversation had somehow gone awry. The problem was that there was too much conversation altogether. If he could just get her into bed again, he could make her forget whatever nonsense she was fussing about.
He stood up and pulled her against him.
“I am sorry if I can’t find the right words, but ye feel so good,” he murmured against her hair, “and ye smell so good, I cannot think.”
She gasped when he cupped her breast. Finally, she seemed at a loss for words.