A Laird to Hold Angeline Fortin (most important books of all time .TXT) 📖

lost. Eyes were attached to all sorts of those bluidy screens day and night, until the value of conversation and human contact had been lost.

Certainly the span of a life could be extended here. The medical advances bordered on the miraculous. But what benefit was there in a long life if one failed to truly grasp the gift of time?

Laird’s life had been in peril many times over the course of his thirty-two years. Not just on the battlefield at Flodden where he’d been destined to die but for Scarlett’s intervention, but during the dozens of border skirmishes and clan wars that had tested his mettle from the time he was a young knight.

He’d spilled his blood to feed Scotland’s soil and shed that of many other men at the same time. Most men he’d met in this time had no idea how such sacrifice for king and clan weighed on a man. Some couldn’t until they’d taken a life themselves.

To an extent, Hugh understood, having fought in a battle called Culloden. Even Connor, as braw and brave as he was, could comprehend some of the value of life having briefly lost that which was most important to him.

He pitied those who failed to fully embrace all they had.

A wee tad of that pity was turned inward this night. Aye, he loved Scarlett. Treasured every moment of the five years they’d had together thus far, but mayhap somewhere along the line, he’d become as complacent as the ignorant fools of this time. He’d become comfortable during that span of good health and prosperity, heedless of the reminder of how quickly all he cherished could be taken from him.

Of all the battles he’d fought, none had matched the deep-seated fear he’d felt this night. Laird looked down at the ridged scar crossing his palm. A reminder of the savage heartbreak he’d felt when Scarlett had once been swept away from him, but this…knowing that all stood between her and certain death was his ability to protect her? Laird had never doubted his strength and ability more than he had in that moment. Knowing he was no match for a bullet speeding toward her, lest he put himself between the two.

Never had Laird appreciated life more than he did now.

Never again would he forget just how fragile it all was.

Tugging off his clothes, Laird stepped into the shower intent on reminding his wife of the same. How precious life was. How precious she was to him.

The hot water drummed away the dreadful chill as he pulled Scarlett into his embrace. Her body was stiff at first, then trembling as she slipped her arms around his waist and melted against him.

“All is well, mo ghrá,” he whispered, his brogue thick. Laird stroked her back and arms, as if he might cleanse any remaining distress. “Tá tú sábháilte. Ní mór liom a ligean do dhuine ar bith a ghortú.”

The words, promising her safety and guaranteeing no one would ever hurt her, were pledged as a more solemn vow than any he’d ever given. To her or anyone. Including his king.

Smoothing back her wet hair, he brushed his lips to her temple. “Ah, mo chara. Mo chailíní.”

Laird kissed her wet cheek then Scarlett lifted her head and their mouths meshed. Tongues tangled. He wasn’t content to linger there, however. Nipping her chin, he raked his teeth down her neck. Her head fell back to grant him full access to the feast of her lovely body. Blood roaring through his veins, Laird moved to her shoulder and on to her breasts.

Cupping the slick, full globes in his palms, he worshipped them tenderly. Licking and nuzzling her sensitive nipples before dropping to his knees before her. Water sluiced over them as he caressed her still rounded belly and a jolt of poignant sentiment shook him.

Life.

His hands slid down her hips, holding her there as he paid homage, then his mouth descended further. He parted her legs and Scarlett’s fingers curled in his wet hair. “Laird?”

“Shh, mo chroí, trust me.”

Her grip eased but tightened again a moment later as his mouth sought and unerringly found her most sensitive spot.

“Laird!”

A shudder rocked her and her knees gave way. Laird caught her delicious bottom in his hands and held her steady as he gently teased and circled her silken flesh with his tongue. The taste of her a sumptuous feast after a long fast. His appetite for her was insatiable. His rigid cock pulsed with carnal hunger with each elated cry he wrung from her.

“Oh, God! Oh, God! Laird!”

Scarlett threw back her head in rapture, her nails digging into his shoulders and a growl of animalistic satisfaction rumbled from deep within Laird as she came against his mouth. Pulsing against his lips. As hot and wet as the water cascading over them.

Replete, she sagged against him. Laird lifted her dripping body and carried her to their bedchamber. Tumbling her onto the bed, he then stretched out along her, relishing her soft pants as she caught her breath.

“That was…”

“Aye?”

“Very bad of you,” Scarlett sighed. Her eyes were closed, wet hair tangled about her shoulders and chest heaving with each breath as she pressed a hand to her diaphragm. Laird couldn’t think of a more rewarding sight. “Incredible, but bad. We’re not supposed to do anything yet.”

“Did I hurt ye?”

“God, no.”

His mollified chuckle had her opening her eyes and turning to him. “You think that’s amusing?”

“Nay, it merely pleases me to please my wife.”

A wicked smile lifted her pouting lips. “Oh? Well did you know it pleases your wife to please you as well?”

Scarlett rose to her knees and straddled his hips, his still raging member pulsating between her thighs. With one finger, she circled the throbbing tip. His body tensed, his cock twitching of its own