Falling for the Highland Rogue by Ann Lethbridge

Author:Ann Lethbridge
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2013-01-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

His eyes grew heated, his expression becoming beguilingly gentle. ‘What a comely lass you are.’

The sincerity in his voice was a deep thrum in her blood and her bones.

‘And it seems meeting the King has turned you into a courtier,’ she quipped lightly. She let her gaze roam his face, the hard delineation of bones in his cheek beneath intense green eyes, the light golden fuzz on his jaw, the sculpted lips.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and he followed, as she had known he would.

Standing so close, he was a good few inches taller. It was a pleasant change to look up to meet a man’s gaze, even when those eyes searched her face so intently.

He smiled.

Such an attractive man. The epitome of virility. And she no longer cared about why she was here. He made her feel like a desirable woman, but, more importantly, he made her feel special. As if she was a real person. Why not have these next few hours for herself, and forget about the world and its petty cruelties? She could make him happy and feel good doing it.

It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. Their paths were too different. But right now they intersected and she wanted to make the most of it.

She dropped her gaze to his beautiful broad shoulders encased in dark-blue superfine and placed her hands flat on his chest, feeling the energy. The life of him. The steady beat of his heart. The rise and fall of his chest with each indrawn breath. The heat of him crashed against her, making her own breathing jerky, and the scent, bergamot and bay, filled her every breath. Delicious. Her heart picked up speed.

He swallowed, the strong column of his throat rippling beneath the golden tan of his skin. Yet he remained still, waiting to be sure of her purpose.

She stroked his lapels, feeling the smooth weave of the fabric against her skin. She slid her hands up to his nape, combing the tendrils of hair there through her fingers, lifting her chin with a smile she hoped looked confident, before touching her lips to his.

Their mouths melded easily, familiarity remembered. He tasted of whisky and smelled of cologne and smoke from the fire. And something unique to him. A dark note of musky male that curled around her senses and set her adrift on a languorous current of desire. Her insides tightened and fluttered and heat pulsed through her veins. Hot little surges of heat in time to her heartbeat.

His hand, the fingers trembling faintly, curled around her nape while his thumb stroked her cheekbone. Large hands. Strong hands that could crush her on a whim. Yet as gentle as butterfly’s wings against her skin. Great strength leashed. It promised physical fulfilment without fear of harm.

Something she had not known for years. If ever. Her passion with Mark had always been edged with the danger of discovery. With Logan, it seemed different. Safer.

Only it wasn’t. They were both at risk.

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