Highlanders. Michelle Willingham
and she pressed her hands on his hard chest, trying to think coherently was impossible. He held her body against his, and he was all hard, huge muscle, straining against her softness.
But she had come to plead for her sister’s freedom another time...or had she? She couldn’t think with his scent enveloping her as it was.
“I think ye came here for more than an apology,” he whispered roughly. He wasn’t amused now. His eyes were dark with heat.
She did not bother to deny it. “Damn you,” she gasped. “If I kiss you, will you release Mary and the boys?”
“Lady, I want more than a kiss.”
Her hands curled into fists on his chest. She could barely breathe. Desire was unfurling within her at a shocking rate. “You will not get more than a kiss!”
He suddenly caught her face with one hand. “Ye challenge me and I gladly accept,” he said roughly, and he kissed her.
Juliana froze as his mouth covered hers—hard and fierce, forcing her lips apart, his tongue thrusting inside. Shock evaporated. Something huge—terrible and wonderful—fisted deep within her.
She relaxed against him, her fists opening, sliding over his chest.
He grunted in satisfaction, his hands moving down her back and over her buttocks. He pushed her against the wall.
Crushed there, Juliana felt nothing but the onslaught of his mouth, the pressure of his body, and a stunning desire. She moved her hands into his tangled mane of hair and kissed him wildly back.
Their tongues entwined, their lips locked, and he pushed one huge thigh between hers. Then he broke the kiss.
Juliana looked into his blazing blue eyes, overcome by urgency and shocked by it. No man had ever kindled such disturbing desire in her before. She was clinging to him, hard.
“Ye kiss the way ye fight. Do ye love the same way?” he asked thickly.
She began to realize what they were doing—what she was doing. He was Alasdair Og and she was Juliana MacDougall. She braced against his chest as her mind raced. What if she could persuade him to release her sister and her nephews? Wouldn’t his lovemaking be worth it?
“Ahh—dinna think now.” He kissed her deeply again.
Their mouths mated and fused, wildly. The desire built to another crescendo. She was breathless and faint, and as he tugged on her braid, freeing her hair, persuading him became a distant memory, because her blood was on fire as never before.
He suddenly caught her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. As he laid her down there, he paused before coming down on top of her. “Juliana? I’m about to go mad, so if ye wish to leave, ye had better run from me now.”
He was breathing hard, poised on all fours above her. As he spoke, he settled one knee between her thighs.
Of course she should leap up from the bed and run away. But Juliana reached up and clasped his jaw fiercely. She wanted to kiss him again.
His eyes blazed. He moved on top of her, lifting her skirts to her waist. Juliana cried out as she felt his manhood against her sex, stunned by the powerful sensation.
As his mouth covered hers, she threw her arms around him. She arched against him, the movement an invitation as old as time. He growled roughly, his mouth on her neck, her collarbone, her breast.
All thought had vanished. There was only his hard, heated body and her raging need. Juliana reached down and ran her hand over the back of his hard thigh, beneath his leine, and then up over his hard buttock. He began moving his mouth over her rib cage, her belly. He went lower and Juliana went still, paralyzed.
She felt his tongue. Desire exploded.
She wept in pleasure and, when he rose back over her and moved hard within her, she wept in ecstasy.
* * *
JULIANA WAS AFRAID to move. She listened to Alasdair as he left the bed and moved about the dark chamber, carefully tugging her cote and surcote down. She heard him stoking the fire. Then she heard a whoosh, and the chamber blazed with light.
She instantly saw him standing by the hearth, his back to it, as he stared at her.
She felt her cheeks flame. Her heart slammed. Slowly, she sat up. Her sanity had returned.He was Alasdair Og and she was Juliana MacDougall. Worse, she was his hostage. What had she done?
“Did I hurt ye?” he asked quietly.
“No, you did not hurt me.”
What had just happened? How had it happened? When she had never done more than kiss a man before? And she did not want to speak with him now. She stood up. With her fingers, she raked through her long hair, hoping he would not see that she trembled, and then hurriedly braided it.
He walked away, opened a chest, returned. He handed her a ribbon.
She tied the braid, not looking at him. The ribbon was blue, of course it was, him being a MacDonald.
Damn it, she thought. Why had she just experienced such uncontrollable desire? Why now, with her worst enemy, of all possible men?
And he was staring. She wanted him to stop. She wet her lips. “Will you free Mary and her sons?” At least some good might come of this horrible mistake.
But he did not reply. He simply stared at her.
Her heart sank in shock and disbelief. “I slept with you!” she cried. “You will not free them?”
“Ye slept in my bed because ye wanted to be with me. Yer a passionate woman and we both ken.”
She could not deny either claim. “You deceived me,” she began.
He raised his hand, his face hard. “I did not plan this. I made no promises. Ye followed me into my chamber.”
She froze. And too late, she knew she had erred by daring to approach him in this room.
“But I will free yer sister when her ransom is paid, that is my promise.” With that, he strode to the door. Then he turned. “Will ye come to dine?”
She was ravenous but she hesitated.
“There is no point in starving,” he said, “or in crying over what we did. ’tis done. Why dinna ye check on yer sister and come downstairs. Ye can meet my father. My mother will be pleased to have yer company.” He gave her an intense look and left.
Juliana trembled. It was done. She had thrown all caution to the wind by following him into his chamber, and then she had acted like a common harlot. She might have hoped to free her sister, but, if she dared be honest with herself, Mary had not been on her mind once they had begun to kiss. Even though it made no sense, she had been overwhelmed by her desire for Alasdair.
CHAPTER FIVE
JULIANA WISHED SHE had a looking glass. She hesitated on the threshold of the chamber she now shared with her sister and her nephews. She felt disheveled and untidy, and she worried her appearance might give her transgressions away. Mary would disapprove if she ever found out what had just happened. Worse, she would be disappointed. Juliana dared not consider how her brother would react, if he ever learned of her disloyalty. But it had been a mistake. She would never be so foolish again.
Juliana peered carefully inside.
All three boys were asleep in the bed, covered by one large fur. Mary stood before the fire, warming her hands. She turned when Juliana entered. “Where have you been?”
She could not claim she had spent the past hour or so begging Alasdair for their freedom. “I went to speak with Alasdair, and then I spoke with his mother,” she lied uneasily. She averted her eyes and was afraid she flushed. How she hated deceiving her sister.
Mary was quiet.
Juliana looked up. Now she saw the