The Saint (Highland Guard #5)(126)

“Of course I know how dangerous it is! That’s why I’ve decided to be the healer for your secret army. What did the king call it, ‘The Highland Guard’? Aye, that’s it. And it’s not as if I’m planning on picking up a weapon and rushing into battle with you. I’ll just be nearby if you or any of the others need me.”

“Ah well, that’s a relief,” he bit out with heavy sarcasm.

Her eyes narrowed at him angrily. “It is hardly unusual to have a healer waiting nearby to tend the wounded after battle. Plenty of women follow their men into battle.”

Her dismissiveness only fueled the angry fires licking through his blood. “Not my woman.”

“I’m not your woman,” she reminded him calmly. “I haven’t said I will marry you.”

He dragged her against him. Molded her body to his, the thin fabric a paltry barrier to the heat that combusted between them. “You’ll marry me, all right. If I have to drag you kicking and screaming to the church, you’ll marry me.”

And then to prove it, he kissed her. Hard. With a fierce possessiveness that left no doubt of his words. She was his.

His tongue lashed against hers, probing the sweet, warm depths of her mouth. He sucked in her gasp, sucking in her breath, feeding the wild frenzy of emotion lashing inside him.

Her body melted against his. Breasts. Hips. Legs and arms entwined. Her fingers clutched at him, drawing him closer.

He groaned when her tongue wrapped around his, meeting the frenzied desperation with some of her own.

Suddenly, she tore her mouth away with a harsh gasp. She was breathing hard, her lips swollen and eyes hazy with passion. “It won’t work, Magnus. You’re not going to change my mind like this. You aren’t the only one who can be stubborn.”

The determination in her voice only increased his own. His eyes blazed into hers with fiery challenge. “We’ll see about that.”

In one smooth motion, he grabbed the gap at the neck of her chemise and pulled it apart, ripping the thin linen fabric from nape to seam.

She gasped in outrage, trying to clasp the torn edges together, but he was having none of it. Tearing the towel from around his waist, he pushed her back on the bed. In a naked tangle of limbs and shredded fabric, he pinned her with his body.

He looked down into her eyes. Looked at the face that had haunted him since he was barely a man. He loved her so much it hurt. “You’re mine, Helen. Mine,” his voice broke, not with possessiveness but with love.

She reached up and cupped his face in her tiny hand. “I know.”

Her eyes glistened with tears of happiness. He kissed her again. Far gentler this time, with all the love and tenderness erupting in his chest.

She opened to him. Her mouth. Her body.

Holding her tight, he slid inside her. Slowly. Wanting to feel every inch of her body taking him in, every inch of connection, every inch of his love for her. And when he’d reached the deepest part he stilled, holding her to him with his gaze. Then, he nudged a little deeper.

It was the sweetest gasp he’d ever heard. A gasp to hold his heart forever.

“I love you, m’aingeal,” he said softly.

The smile that lit her face was unlike any he’d ever seen. “I love you, too.”

He held her gaze and started to move his hips. Slowly at first, in small grinding circles.

Her legs tightened around his. Her breath started to quicken. Her eyes lost focus and her cheeks started to flush.

“Oh God …” She moaned.

His hips circled faster. Harder. Increasing the pressure. She started to gasp. Her naked br**sts arching against his chest, her legs wrapping tighter around his bu**ocks, pulling him deeper.

It felt too good.

Pleasure crashed over him in a heated rush, gathering in his groin, coiling at the base of his spine. His heart hammered in his ears.

He clenched. His muscles hardened as he fought to hold on for the last few moments.

She cried out and he let go. With a groan torn from the depths of his soul, he came in hot spasming waves, giving her everything he had to give.

Even when the last wave of pleasure had ebbed, he held her to him, not wanting to let her go.

He should have been content to stay like that forever, but he feared he would crush her to death. Rolling to the side, he wrapped his arm around her and tucked her firmly against his side.

She rested her cheek against his chest, drawing tiny shapes with her fingertips on his chest.

He knew why she was so quiet. The anger had dissipated, but the far more important emotion—fear—was still there.

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

She rested her palm flat on his chest, perching her chin on the back of her hand to look up at him. “I am. I need to do this, Magnus. And you need me. Your friends need me. If there’s a chance I could save you or one of them, I have to take it. This is what I’m supposed to do, I know it. It’s where I belong. By your side in all things.” She smiled. “Besides, you need someone to protect you.”

He groaned, feeling as if he were fighting against the inevitable. “Aye, but who’s going to protect you?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Remember how MacGregor told me if there was anything he could do to repay me I only had to ask? Well, he’s promised to watch out for me.”

“MacGregor?” he choked.