He let himself go, releasing the clamp on the pressure at the base of his spine, and felt the shuddering waves overtake him as he thrust in deep, holding his body to hers and grinding against her until they cried out in unison.

It was intense. Cataclysmic. Out of control. He’d never lost himself so completely in anything. For the first time in his life he knew exactly where he belonged. With her. Forever.

When it was over, all he could do was collapse on top of her. Skin to skin, pounding heart to pounding heart, until fearing that he was crushing her, he found the strength to roll onto the bed beside her.

Not wanting to break the connection, he drew his arm around her and pulled her in snugly against the side of his body. One soft cheek and one small palm rested against his chest, and her knee was bent across his legs. It was a position that he suspected he was going to get used to very quickly. Absently, she traced the scar on his arm. It was strange that she’d never asked about it.

It was a while before she propped her chin on her hand to look up at him. For someone who had just been very thoroughly ravished, she looked impossibly innocent.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. “You are so quiet; I hope you are not feeling guilty again.”

His mouth quirked to the side in a wry smile. “Not at all. I’m feeling an appalling lack of guilt, actually.”

“Good,” she said with something of a harrumph.

He smiled. “I was also thinking that I forgot to give you something. I brought it back with me from home.” He laughed. “I think my mother feared I was never going to ask for it.”

She was obviously perplexed. “For me?”

“Aye, for you,” he said, pressing a kiss on her nose. He rolled over her and fished around on the ground beside the bed for his sporran. Digging inside with his fingers, he pulled out what he was looking for and got back into position with her nestled half on top of him before opening his palm.

She gasped, her eyes shooting to his in shock and accusation. “Alex!”

For a moment she just stared at the circle of gold and stone with the eyes of a starving child who had glimpsed a plate of sweets in a window. When she looked back at him her eyes were damp and shimmery. “It’s beautiful.” He could hear the emotion in her voice. “But I couldn’t accept—”

“It’s a betrothal ring,” he said, cutting her off. “You have to accept it.”

She looked like she wanted to refuse again, but eventually she nodded.