Highlander Lord of Fire Read online Donna Fletcher (Macardle Sisters of Courage #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Historical Fiction, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Macardle Sisters of Courage Series by Donna Fletcher
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Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
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Tarass agreed, though not verbally. He wanted the pup to protect her and if he was put out of the room it would confuse him. In time he would learn, but that didn’t help him tonight.

“Tell him to go sleep by the hearth as he’d been doing. We’ll get beneath the blankets and we’ll have to be quiet,” Tarass said, “for tonight at least.”

Snow reached out to touch his face, resting her hand on his cheek. “You do love me.”

“I told you I did.”

“Aye, you did, but not to get angry at Thaw for disturbing us and not putting him out of the room tells me just how very much you love me and makes me love you even more,” she said and kissed him.

Tarass slipped his hand around to the back of her neck and deepened the kiss.

Thaw growled.

Tarass dropped his head back on the mattress to look up at the growling pup. “I am not hurting her. I love Snow.”

Snow chuckled, reached out to find her husband’s face, her hands landing on his chest that she followed up to his face to cup and plant kisses all over it. Then she reached out for Thaw, took hold of his face and rained kisses over him.

“See, Thaw, I love you both,” she said and repeated the process. “Now you show him, Tarass, that you love us both.”

“You want me to kiss the pup?” he asked, thinking her crazy.

“It will help him understand and hopefully let us make love tonight, uninterrupted.”

The idea of kissing the pup was not appealing, but far less appealing was not finishing what he had started with his wife. Tarass grabbed his wife’s face and rained lots of kisses over it and she began to moan softly. Before Thaw could growl, he took hold of the pup’s face and kissed him a few times, and cringed when the pup licked his face.

“I think he understands,” Tarass said, wiping his cheek with his arm.

“Go sleep now, Thaw,” Snow ordered gently.

The pup jumped off the bed and curled up by the hearth.

Tarass helped his wife slip under the blankets. “This is a far different wedding night than I had planned.”

Snow cuddled against him and loved when his arms wrapped around her to tuck her close. “Aye, far different than what I expected as well.”

“What did you expect?” he asked, curious. “You intended to stop the wedding to Lord Polwarth, so there would have been no wedding night to expect with him. So it is a wedding night with me you had thought on. So again, what did you expect?”

“I expected to be anxious and fearful, but I’m not.”

“Fearful of what? Not me, I hope. I would never hurt you, ást,” he said, caressing her back.

“What is that name you call me?”

“It means love in my mum’s native tongue.”

“You’ve called me that twice before,” she said, remembering the cottage where she had first heard it.

“I suppose I knew I loved you before I knew I loved you,” he said and kissed her softly. “Now tell me what was there to be fearful of tonight?” He kissed her again.

“I’m not sure, but the fear disappeared as soon as you told me you loved me,” she said and returned the kiss.

“I’m glad. I don’t want you to fear me, at least not in bed,” Tarass said with a slight laugh. “Ouch, did you just poke me?”

“You deserved it. besides, someone has to start poking.”

“We don’t poke, wife, we make love,” he whispered and kissed her as his hand roamed over her intimately and she sighed with pleasure, though it quickly turned into a moan. “Quiet or you’ll wake Thaw and end this before it can start.”

Snow did her best to keep quiet, but it was difficult with his hands teasing her senses awake with his every touch. And when he took one of her taut and sensitive nipples into his mouth for his tongue to tease, she thought she’d scream with pleasure. She kept her moans low, fearful Thaw would disturb them again, an unbearable thought.

Her body moved against his as if it had a mind of its own, a need of its own. When his hand slipped between her legs and stroked her, she almost vaulted off the bed if it weren’t for him throwing his legs over hers to stop her.

“Tarass,” she whispered and heard the aching need in her voice.

“Good God, wife, you feel as beautiful as you are,” he said and buried his face in her neck to nibble along it.

His hand continued to tease between her legs and she thought she’d go mad. She bit her tongue to keep the moans locked away, but feared she’d fail in keeping them from escaping. She thought to reach out and explore him as he did her, but he had taken such command of her body that the only thing she could do was respond to his touch. And she did, her body writhing against his as if begging him for more, begging him not to stop, begging him to appease her ache.


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