Mystic Mountains

said softly, and Isabella looked up in time to see a wealth of sympathy in his eyes. But instantly the look was banished as he glanced down at her bad foot.
    "By the by. I was having a word with Doc Neale yesterday. He wants to have a look at your foot, Bella. He suggests you may be able to have something done to straighten your toes. Are you willing to let him look at them?"
    Startled, she whispered, "Do you really think he'll be able to do anything for me?"
    Tiger shrugged, warmed by the gleam of hope in her wide green eyes. What a puzzle she was. One moment a fighting, spitting she cat, the next an almost childlike waif. Here he had her all slotted into place in his mind, and she had surprised him yet again. Truth was he'd never known another woman to intrigue him so. "No harm in going to see the doc. He's quite a character in these parts. The Aborigines think he's a witch doctor, for he cures their children of no end of problems."
    "I 'd like very much to see him," she agreed quietly, stunning him with a dazzling smile.
    "That 's the ticket." Tapping her beneath the chin with a finger, he grinned. "You should smile more often. It makes you look quite pretty."
    The smile disappeared to be replaced by a scowl and Tiger laughed. "You really must learn to see the funny side of things, little Bella. I was jesting with you. All right, so you 've had a rough trot of it 'til now, but you're sure to break some man's heart one day with your looks, and I've a feeling it's going to be your lover."
    "What lover?" Her brows shot together.
    Tiger eyed her speculatively. "Our Dougal. So, he's never touched you, eh? You lied to me, did you not? You've never had a man touch you in shared passion. That is if we discount the English nob who forced himself on you and got cut up for his efforts."
    " 'Tis no business of yours," she retorted. Haughtily she tossed her head and her mobcap fell to the ground. She bent to pick it up and two of the apples dropped. Tiger retrieved them, and as he returned them to her apron her blush deepened. For a moment, bewitched, he watched the color creeping up her face.
    "Everything you do is my business, Bella my girl, and has been from the moment I picked you out at the wharf. And don 't you forget it." Taking the cap from her hand he plunked it on her head, then pulled her forward with a fist on either side of it. When her face was level with his shirtfront he lowered his head until his nose touched hers. "If I had a mind to I could take you right here beneath my own apple tree. Could slake my body's needs on your scrawny body, then take you to my bed every night until I tired of you."
    "Let me go!"
    As she shrieked the order she lifted her hands to thump his chest and the apples tumbled. He released her cap so he could clasp her wrists.
    "Never!" The word escaped like an angry curse.
    When his mouth covered hers she went ramrod stiff in his arms. Her heart, and his own, thumped in unison as they met, chest to chest.
    His tongue probed, and she opened her mouth without resistance. She shivered and he tasted her. He 'd never tasted anything sweeter; she was honey and wine, ambrosia. Her back arched and he pressed his aroused flesh hard against the softness of her. Dear God, heat was flooding his loins, a hunger such as he'd never known filled his vitals. Need filled every part of him, a yearning so potent it was like a pain constricting his chest. And she was going soft and yielding. For him. Desire for her, strong and encompassing blanked out all reason. He heard a soft moan and realized it came from her.
    Stunned, he pulled back, his breathing labored. She almost stumbled as he let her go. Staring at her astonished face, at her kiss-swollen lips, he could see she was as amazed as him.
    Why the hell had he done that? What a fool! He 'd never intended to touch the chit. He felt as if he'd been stripped bare, made vulnerable. How could he have let her get to him that way? Always he was in control of his emotions.
    Her sweet lips were trembling; his own felt an almost irresistible urge to repeat what they 'd just savored. With a muffled oath he raked his fingers through his hair, self-disgust warring with another untapped emotion, best not dwelt on.
    Turning on his heel, he strode away.
    Isabella watched his stiffly held back as she touched her mouth. The hot man smell of him still surrounded her, making her feel faint, making her tremble with a strange awareness.Her lips felt soft and warm. Were they