Highlander Unchained Read online

  His lips teased and implored, coaxing her response with a gentle caress that was so achingly sweet, it almost hurt. His mouth was so soft, the dark spicy taste of him intoxicating. She melted against him, savoring the wicked sensation of her body molded against the hard wall of his broad chest and the strong muscular arms that held her so protectively.

  How could he do this to her? It was all wrong. He should be savage, rough, forceful. But he was none of those. This powerful Highlander kissed her with more tenderness and finess than she’d ever dreamed possible. And with a poignancy that frightened her. Men had stolen kisses from her, but no man had ever kissed her in a way that made her want to weep, her heart slam against her chest, and her knees go weak all at the same time.

  He was everything she’d ever dreamed of and nothing he was supposed to be.

  And if it didn’t feel so perfect she would stop him. But it did feel perfect.

  His kiss grew more insistent. More demanding. When his tongue slid in her mouth, her heart seemed to stop beating. She was shocked but also deeply aroused by the long, languorous strokes of his tongue. Strokes that set off wicked sparks in her body and made her heart tug with longing.

  She silenced the roar of questions in her head and allowed herself to feel. He tasted her deep and slow. Delving into the farthest reaches of her mouth. Her body flooded with heat, building with an urgency that she could not describe and a hunger that would not be denied. So she gave herself over to his kiss, to the raw sensuality. Responding the only way she knew how, with eagerness and enthusiasm.

  She kissed him back. Entwining her tongue with his. Tasting him as deeply as he did her. Soon, the gentle touch of his mouth was not enough. She wanted it harder. Faster. Deeper. She wrapped her hands around his neck, wanting to get closer. Wanting to feel the hard strength of his body under her fingertips. Wanting to press her body against him. Wanting to dissolve into his heat.

  He moved his arousal firmly against her. Big, bold, and threatening. A dangerous reminder that shattered the brief spell of insanity. She felt a flicker of excitement before the cold splash of reality. And fear.

  Oh, my God, what am I doing? He’s my captor. She pushed him away in horror, as if she could push away her own treacherous desires. “Stop!”

  They stood in silence, both breathing hard, staring at each other. It was all there between them in that one glance. Everything she was feeling in the look that stretched between them. For a moment his implacable expression shifted, revealing a flash of surprise.

  She covered her mouth with her hand, feeling the heat and gentle throbbing of her lips.

  When he finally spoke, his expression had again become unreadable. “You will join me tonight.”

  Whether it was a request or an order, she was too overwhelmed to notice. Her entire body pulsed with a strange sensation. All she could manage was a nod.

  He turned and left her without a backward glance, his stride as determined and powerful as the man himself. Leaving Flora to stare at the door, wondering what had just happened. And why she felt as though everything had just changed.

  Chapter 5

  By time she’d returned to her room, Flora was ready to collapse. Exhausted from the struggle of removing as much of the pungent oil from his swords as possible. If she wasn’t sure that he would come up to her room and drag her down himself, she would beg off from the evening meal.

  She started to remove her clothing, eager to sink into the tub that had been filled with steaming hot water and sprinkled with dried lavender. The soft floral scent floated through the air, drowning out the stench of fulmar oil that had seemed permanently lodged in her nose.

  Despite the apron she’d worn to protect her gown, the residue from the oil had penetrated the linen into the wool. She sighed, recognizing that it was her own fault. But it had been worth it, even if the skirt of her only gown smelled a bit. Perhaps Mary would be willing to lend her another?

  Or maybe she should leave it be, in the hope that the smell would keep him away.

  She’d driven his kiss from her mind while she worked, but the memories returned the moment she sank into the warm, soothing water. Her fingers went to her still tender lips.

  Had he really kissed her like that?

  And had she really responded so completely, melting against him in a soft pool of heat? That, of course, was the far more troubling question. Thank God she’d caught herself in time.

  It was difficult to believe that the fierce warrior who’d abducted her could kiss her as if she were a fragile piece of porcelain. Evoking feelings she’d never experienced before. Deep feelings of longing and contentment. In his arms, she felt protected, cherished, cared for.

  She tapped the water with her hand, scattering the dried leaves like dust to the wind. She was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like her to be so fanciful, though neither was it like her to fall into the embrace of a barbarian.

  No, she corrected. He wasn’t a barbarian. If she’d learned anything since the night he’d upset her elopement, she’d learned that. There was an inherent streak of nobility and strength in him that could not be denied. He was hard and uncompromising, but he could also be thoughtful and considerate.

  She slipped under the water to clear the soap from her hair, wishing it were as easy to erase the memory of his mouth on hers. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the feel of him or the rich masculine taste of him.

  But it didn’t matter. She’d made a mistake in allowing him to kiss her; she would not make it again. She was his prisoner. And she’d do best not to forget it. To him, she was simply something to leverage over her brother. A means to an end. She could never care for a man who saw her as such. A kiss, no matter how sublime, wouldn’t change that. Flora knew her worth, not as a prize of marriage or to end a curse, but as a woman. And she would accept nothing less from a husband.

  She’d thought Lord Murray different. Instead he’d served as a powerful lesson in trusting the wrong man. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  She stood up and stepped carefully from the tub, wrapping the drying cloth around her shivering body. Where was Morag? She’d promised to return to light the fire and help comb out her hair. Flora drifted to the small window, seeking the last amber rays of sun to warm the chill on her skin.

  A soft knock at the door signaled the woman’s arrival. She bade her enter, thinking that if she did one thing before she left, it would be to make the humorless old woman smile—a laugh would undoubtedly be expecting too much.

  She heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by a muffled curse. Slowly, she turned around.

  The blood drained from her face. It wasn’t the maid.

  Lachlan Maclean stood stone still in the doorway. His eyes bore into her with an intensity that made her every nerve ending stand on edge.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  For the first time in her life, Flora felt truly vulnerable. Not because she thought he would hurt her, but because of the undeniable intimacy of the moment. No man had ever seen her like this.

  She was nearly naked. The thin piece of linen was wrapped around her and slung low over her breasts. She struggled to hide behind the damp piece of fabric, but it was useless. It clung to her, revealing every inch of her body to his smoldering gaze.

  He looked impossibly handsome. His hair, still damp from bathing, slumped across his face and curled roguishly at his collar. He’d shaved, but the rough stubble of his beard still shadowed the hard lines of his jaw and chin. The thin scars that crossed his nose and cheek emphasized his rough warrior’s appeal. Rough, but not brutish. A fresh linen shirt stretched over the broad, powerful chest, and a silver brooch secured the plaid that he’d wrapped over his shoulder. He was tall and strong and unbearably masculine. But all she could think about was how he’d tasted and the seductive heat of his mouth on hers. A shiver swept over her.

  She wanted to order him to leave, but her words strangled in her throat. For a moment she’d passed into a dream realm, wher