Her Enemy Highlander. Nicole Locke
have been cut, or worse, sliced in two!
She whirled around. ‘How could you throw a dagger at me?’
‘You’re a woman?’
‘Ach, of course I’m a woman. Even in this dim light you must see I’m wearing a gown!’
He made a noise, somewhere between a huff and a groan, as he shoved the linens away and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
He was not just a large man, he was huge. He carried his sword loosely at his side. She didn’t care about his sword. She cared about his nakedness walking towards her.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
The dim light wasn’t going to hide him much longer. She could not only see the size and shape of him, but also—
He was magnificent. Just stunning. It was as if he reinterpreted everything she’d ever known about the opposite sex. There wasn’t a Buchanan man built like him. She didn’t even know men were made like this.
She couldn’t tell the colour of his hair or eyes, but the light did not hide the hard slant of sharp cheekbones, the bold line of a straight nose. And lips beautifully curved, shaped full underneath.
Her eyes didn’t want to blink. Her chest felt light and constricted at the same time. Her breath came in short gasps. Was she going to actually giggle?
He walked nearer. He was naked. Utterly naked.
Revealed to her were the defined curves of powerful shoulders and arms, the very masculine breadth of his chest, the fluid movement of muscles tapering slightly to a rippled stomach.
She should have turned away, but she couldn’t. Maybe it was the darkness making her bold. Maybe it was her impulsiveness, a trait her mother lamented, stopping any maidenly blushing. Or maybe she looked because she couldn’t help herself. Aye, that was it.
Her eyes dropped lower.
Her mouth became dry, her lips parched. Fearing her mouth hung open, she licked her lips, only to feel the moisture evaporate like all the thoughts in her head. Her legs suddenly felt like tall reeds of grass swaying in the wind. Try as she might, she could not lock her knees.
He growled, low, almost a purr except for the fact it was so masculine. So predatory. She didn’t know how to interpret the sound and couldn’t seem to look to his eyes for any help.
‘Do you like what you see?’ He set the sword against the bed. Her eyes thankfully followed the movement. But averting her eyes did not give her balance and she looked back up.
‘I like what I see.’ His eyes were too intense, too penetrating and held her immobile. ‘I like what I see very much.’
Where was her anger and fury? Gone. Just like her ability to move. He was so close to her, she felt the heat from his skin. Despite his nakedness, he smelled like warm leather, cold steel and a scent she had never encountered before. Something so tempting she inhaled it greedily.
His eyes continued to hold hers and she did not break that hold. So she felt rather than saw the caress of his fingers stroking from her temple, along her jawline to the cusp of her lower lip.
‘So-oo bonny even though you’re not talking,’ he purred. ‘Did my brother send you to me? Was that why you were by my bed?’ He cupped her chin, tilted her face up to his. ‘I didn’t think I’d have the strength for any lass this eve, but I’m glad to be proven wrong.’
Reeling, Mairead felt the heat of his hands as he seized the sides of her face. She tasted the ale warmth of his breath, the restrained caress of his fingertips as he brought her lips to his.
When he coaxed hers to part, when his tongue teased along their seam, she knew this was more than a kiss. It was something altogether different—just like the man.
He cradled her face, but it was neither his lips nor hands holding her captive. Instead, she was bound by the potency and response of her body against his.
He released their lips, only to draw her more fiercely against him. His arms wrapped low around her, his hands cupped and lifted. No longer on her feet, she was kept in balance by the breadth of his body and the strength of his hands and arms.
Then he tilted her head, exposing her neck to his lips, to his kisses.
Suddenly, she spiralled as desperation and anger returned to her, but now the emotions changed, turned darker, more volatile, wanting something else, something she didn’t understand even as her hands went to his shoulders. Her fingers tugged, kneaded, trying to draw the great bulk of his body closer to her.
He groaned, shifted. Not enough. Not nearly close enough. Mairead pulled harder and the next step he took made him stumble and bump her against the fireplace behind her.
The sharp jab of pain in her back and his gentle oath broke their contact, pulling her back to reality. And the reality was more painful than the fireplace, mortifying even.
She was kissing a man. A naked drunk man she didn’t know! Her eyes flitted from the door to the open shutters and back again. She looked anywhere but towards him. He had regained his balance, but his oath made her tingle and reel almost more than his kisses.
The room was dark. That fact was important, but she couldn’t remember why. The dagger!
He crooked a finger under her chin. ‘There now, where did you go?’ he teased.
His head was tilted down to catch her gaze. His eyes were still dark with desire, but amusement made them sparkle. He was pure masculine temptation and completely focused on her. What was she doing?
She had to make a run for it, but it wouldn’t be easy. He was a large man with a sword. There would be no reasoning with him. The only advantage she had was surprise and his nakedness. Her eyes shifted to the door again.
His eyes narrowed and he straightened cautiously. ‘You’re not going away...now are you, lass?’
‘There’s been a mistake,’ she said, her voice unsteady, just like her thoughts. ‘I’m...in the wrong room.’
Though he didn’t move any closer to her, and his caress on her neck was light, she wasn’t free of him.
‘There’s been nae mistake. You came to my room. You let me kiss you.’ His fingers made gentle circles, skimming down her neck to her shoulders and back up. ‘And before I was clumsy, you wanted me to kiss you...more.’
So true. All so confusingly true, but she needed the dagger, not this man who caused her to want to go and stay at the same time. How was this possible? How could she be here like this?
‘I mean nae harm,’ she said, willing her heart to stop fluttering inside her chest so she could concentrate. She was Buchanan, lying was her greatest skill. But she’d never be convincing if she was trembling with this need.
‘I have to go,’ she continued, pleased her voice was growing steady. ‘My friend will be looking for me.’
‘A friend?’ He snatched his hand away and his brows drew together. ‘A male friend?’ The tempting mouth turned fierce. The change was so sudden it would have been comical, if not for the fact he looked a bit frightening.
‘You’re here with a friend?’ he said, the last word a growl. ‘My brother did not send you to me?’
There could be only one reason his brother would send a woman to his bedroom. If she’d had any modesty left, she would have blushed with embarrassment, not with desire as she thought of their kiss.
Shaking her head to dispel the images, she replied, ‘Nae, I doona know your brother.’
He pursed his lips. ‘A neglect of my brother and of mine. If I had seen you serving downstairs, I would have stopped my drinking to be with you. Do you belong to your friend for tonight only?’
‘Nae! I just need—’
He