The Scottish Witch by Cathy Maxwell

Author:Cathy Maxwell [Maxwell, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780062070234
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2012-11-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

This was madness.

Harry hadn’t come here to kiss Portia Maclean.

He’d come here to throttle the truth out of her. He wanted Fenella. If she was not the witch, then he knew there was a link between them.

The lust of battle sang in his blood. He was a warrior. Here was his enemy—and yet, he could not take himself away from her.

Dear God, her kiss was sweet. Intoxicating in a way that no spirit or drug had ever been.

The moment his lips met hers, reason flew from his mind.

She smelled of fresh air, moonlight and the earth. It was a scent more potent than any perfume.

He’d been holding her arms. Slowly, he let her down to the ground so he could gather her up and kiss her more completely.

Her response was everything a man could ask. She was eager for his embrace. Her arms slid up around his neck to pull him closer to her. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and Harry found himself impatient with the barrier of his heavy greatcoat between them. He slid it off, letting it fall to the ground at his feet.

Was the cat still there, winding around them, purring?

Harry didn’t care. A force as old as man drove him now. The roof of the barn could cave in on them and he would not break this kiss. He could not.

He slid his hand inside her cloak, circling her waist and pulling her closer to him. He was hard and anxious. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this excited.

Her waist was trim. He soothed his hand over the gentle curve of her thigh. She was lean and strong, a different sort of woman from the overly pampered ones he’d grown bored with in London. Her legs were longer than he had first imagined. His mind focused on those legs and on wanting them wrapped around his waist.

The kiss broke. They had been inhaling each other. He now kissed her cheek, her eye, her ear. His hand found her breast. The weight of it felt good in his hands. He circled the tight, hard bud of her nipple pressed needily against her clothing. Her breath caught in her throat. He was surprised again with how good she felt, and suddenly, Harry was done with seduction. He wanted her. Now. He’d go to pieces if he didn’t have her.

He unbuttoned his breeches while burying his face in her neck and her hair. His erection practically sprang free from the confines of his breeches like a spring that had been compressed too long. He was hard and ready. Desire gave him the strength of ten men, and he was done with waiting. He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted this one. His blood sang with need.

She was pulling at his clothing now, wanting the restrictions between them gone as eagerly as he did.

But he could not wait for genteel seduction. With an almost animal savagery, Harry lifted her up so she fit against him, pushing aside her skirts as he did so.

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