Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends #1.5)(23)
“Hamish, since you’ve enabled this tree to be erected in our great hall with the iron stand you created to my precise specifications, you shall place the next ornament on the tree.”
A burly man with sandy-brown hair stepped forward from the crowd. Iain assisted Isobel by squatting down and retrieving a small wrapped item with a green bow she’d pointed out to him, and he handed the item to Hamish. With a furrow to his brow and a serious expression on his face, Hamish’s large fingers pulled on the tiny strings, and the ribbon and linen fell open, cradled in the palm of his hand. A tiny silver dagger no more than two inches long, with a sparkling emerald embedded in the cross of the hilt, lay in the middle of the wrapping.
Isobel took the item from his hand, looped another golden ribbon beneath the hilt, and handed it back to the smithy.
“Where shall I place it, M’Lady?” he asked.
“It’s your choice, Hamish. That’s the fun of decorating: there are no rules,” Isobel replied.
The man nodded and placed the ornament higher up, moving the loop back over the pine needles until the branch dipped only a couple inches from the weight.
Iain spoke as the dagger spun in a slow circle. “Well done, Hamish.”
Hamish joined his smiling wife who looked nearly as pregnant as Isobel. He stepped behind her and enfolded the happy woman in his arms.
“It’s your turn, Robert—for leading the expedition to bring us this exceptional Christmas tree, the beauty of which is rivaled only by the other gift you brought to us tonight, Susanna. Please honor us by placing your ornament on the tree,” Isobel said.
“Susanna, will you hang the ornament for me?” Robert asked.
She looked into dark eyes filled with warmth. Her shyness among his clan melted away with the gentle intensity in his gaze. “’Tis an honor, Robert. Thank you,” she whispered.
She eased off his lap, careful not to disturb his injury, and walked over to Isobel and Iain. Isobel pointed, and Iain plucked up a round, flat present, its wrapping made of ivory silk, tied with a thin red ribbon. It reminded Susanna of the wider ribbon that had bound her hands the day before.
How oddly fitting.
Her heartbeat accelerating in mild excitement, Susanna pulled the loose end of the ribbon. The bow unraveled, the silk fabric beneath falling open in a wisp across her palm. She pulled back the corners to see what lay hidden within. It was a delicate, pale wooden shape with six points, its surface polished to a high sheen.
“’Tis a snowflake,” Robert said.
Susanna turned around. “You made this?”
“Aye. I carve more than bows for huntin’.”
Susanna pulled the silk and ribbon away, closing her left fist around the soft material as she held the ornament up. Isobel threaded a golden loop through an opening on the delightful treasure. With trembling fingers and tears filling her eyes, Susanna stood on her tiptoes and hung the wooden snowflake high on a branch. She wanted Robert to see his exquisite ornament at eye level when he later stood in front of the tree.
The lightweight ornament spun in one direction, twisting on its ribbon loop, then unwound, spinning the other direction. She laughed and clapped her hands, pleased at how perfect it looked dangling from its branch. She glanced over at Robert. However, his attention was directed not on his ornament, but squarely on her, the intensity of his gaze heating her body once again.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and walked back to his chair. “May I return to my seat, Robert?”
Robert smiled, and she suddenly realized what had struck her earlier that she hadn’t been able to place. He’d shaved. A face that had once held the rugged appeal of a week’s worth of stubble had become all the more attractive clean-shaven.
She shook her head, shocked at her uninhibited thought.
Really, Susanna? Thinkin’ a man handsome now?
Robert opened his arms wide, and she settled onto his lap, facing more forward to better see the festivities. She wriggled a bit, trying to get more comfortable in the position.
A low groan rumbled into her ear. “Susanna, please. If you keep shakin’ your ass against me like that, I might die right here in this chair.”
She gasped, afraid she’d hurt his injury again. “I’m sorry, Robert. I doona wish you more pain.”
He sighed and gripped her hips with his hands, stilling her movements. “’Tis fine, Susanna. I’m willin’ to suffer.”
Susanna exhaled slowly, trying to ignore an uncomfortable firmness beneath her bottom while remaining as still as possible to spare Robert further distress. She felt a twitch under her, and a flash of ache speared between her thighs. Her breath caught right as another groan came from Robert.
Understanding dawned on her as the dull pain turned erotic, spreading into delicious warmth. Robert suffered in the same way she now did: from the tortured pleasure of their bodies joined intimately as they sat together.
She swallowed hard, uncertain what she should do. She swept her gaze across the other faces in the room, but they all paid attention to Brigid as she hung a bluish glass icicle ornament on the tree.
Since her wriggling had seemed to make it worse for him...and for her...she focused on calming her breathing and sitting perfectly still on his lap. The task of maintaining complete stillness took great effort, as the more she tried to remain immobile against Robert’s heat behind her, that hard twitching beneath her, and his intoxicating scent drifting around her, the more she wanted to...move.