Highlander in Her Dreams by Allie MacKay

Author:Allie MacKay
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2007-06-24T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Aidan stood at his bedchamber window, no longer looking out at the night’s mist and murk but down at his own two hands. Still planted firmly on the broad stone ledge of the window arch, they were hands a man could be proud of. Strong, large, and capable, they’d swung swords, wielded axes, and were no strangers to hard, backbreaking work.

And, it finally occurred to him, neither were they the hands of a man incapable of claiming the woman he wanted.

The only woman he wanted.

Despite the small matters of All-den, Pen-seal-where’er, and his men crossing themselves each time she walked past. The saints knew, he’d fought and besieged greater battles. With one last gulp of the cold night air, he straightened his back and turned, ready to take on this new challenge.

A formidable foe, she watched him from near the hearth. Across the length of his chamber, to be sure, but after the distance of dreams, so close he could taste her. Without doubt, he could smell her. The scent of clean, freshly washed woman filled the room, a fine, heathery scent laced with just enough her to befuddle his senses and torment him.

Truth was, she drove him beyond reason.

She met his gaze steadily, her sleek flame-bright hair gleaming in the torchlight, the drying cloth still clutched tight around her. The thin, damp cloth clung to her, molding her full, round breasts and tempting him with the sweetness of her shapely hips and thighs.

Even more distracting, she was tapping one foot, the rapid movement making her breasts jig, while the flush of irritation on her face only drew his attention to her soft, kissable lips.

Tiny droplets of water glistened on her shoulders and as he watched, one pearled and trickled down her breasts, disappearing beneath the knotted cloth.

When a second droplet did the same, his mouth went dry.

“A plague on it,” he hissed, trying hard not to groan or frown. Clenching his hands, he struggled to ignore the sudden heavy pounding at his loins. He raked a hand through his hair, blotting all thought of her lush, warm curves, the fragrant, heated place hidden between her thighs.

A slick, succulent place he couldn’t wait to get his hands on.

His hands, and more.

Much more.

“Return my clothes, and I’ll be on my way,” she said then, her words dashing cold water on his ponderings. “If the gatehouse arch brought me here, it can surely take me back.”

“Och, lass, I fear ’tis too late for that,” he said, frowning after all. With long strides, he crossed to her. “There are clothes a-plenty for you here. Fine clothes. Raiments my sister left behind when she wed a Border chieftain. I’ll also have new ones made for you. As for the gatehouse arch, I canna let you near it. Leastways unescorted. No’ that I think there’s aught amiss with it, but—”

“What is this?” Her eyes flashed. “First you take my clothes and riddle me with questions, and now you’d deny me access to the one place—”

He grabbed her shoulders, silencing her with a fierce, bruising kiss.

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