The Highlander's Sin (The Stolen Bride Series) by Eliza Knight

Author:Eliza Knight [Knight, Eliza]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Knight Media, LLC
Published: 2013-10-18T11:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Lips as tempting as a cherry tart.

Duncan breathed in Heather’s scent, trying to grasp some shred of control. She was his captive. She was a virgin. She was so damned tempting.

His cock raged with the need to drive between her thighs, and every inch of him screamed to peel the blanket from her clutching fingers and reveal the beauty of her body to his eyes. He’d caught a glimpse when she’d stripped off her wet clothes—long legs with tight, lithe thighs. Rounded hips. Plush breasts.

Enough to make him forget who they both were. Enough to make him want to change the course of his destiny.

“Let me kiss ye,” he said.

His cock was pressed tight to the juncture of her thighs, and he wanted more than anything to rip away his plaid and her blanket so that he could feel the damp curls of her sex part on his shaft.

“I canna,” she whispered.

“Why?” Their lips were only an inch apart. All he had to do was sink against her.

“’Tis wrong.”

She had a point, even if she didn’t sound completely convinced of it herself. But that wasn’t going to stop him from desiring her.

“There is one thing ye must know about me,” he said, dragging his lips along her jawline. Soft skin…

“What?” Her voice shook.

“I was forced into those robes. The church is not my destiny.”

Her throat bobbed against his lips when she swallowed.

“What is?”

Duncan pulled at the blanket enough to reveal the crook between her shoulder and neck. He pressed his lips to the rapid beat of her pulse, suckling gently at the tender flesh. Heather let out a short gasp. When he looked up at her, she’d sucked her lower lip into her mouth, silencing her reaction.

“I’m not sure anymore,” he answered honestly. This time he was the one swallowing hard. “I became a mercenary in order to train for the day I met up with my enemies, so I could exact vengeance.” He shook his head. “Not sure about that so much anymore, either.” He gave her a pointed stare, wondering if she’d realize, see in his eyes, how much she’d changed him.

Shooting a pale hand from inside the clutches of her blanket, Heather took the whisky jug and held it to her lips. ’Haps she did see. Duncan stroked a hand through his hair. It was drying quite a bit quicker than hers.

“I had a plan,” she blurted out.

Duncan raised a brow. “A plan to escape?”

She shook her head, then stilled it, crinkling her nose. “Well, aye, ye canna expect me to simply allow ye to hand me over to the heathens who paid for me. But that is not what I meant.”

“What did ye mean?” He traced a finger along the column of her neck, following his touch with a path of kisses.

She took another long pull of whisky. Duncan took the jug away from her, corked it and tossed it through the cave, where it landed perfectly on his discarded robe, unbroken.

“Enough drink. Tell me what ye meant.

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