Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

veins, spreading the warmth through
every extremity until he vibrated with anticipation.  His cock became heavy and
full, torturing him with an exquisite ache.  Gods, he would worship her. 
Starting with that gloriously full mouth and reveling in a kiss he’d long
denied himself.  Then, her breasts would be his next conquest.  He’d stroke and
kiss them, awakening her senses and making her skin dance with sensation.  Once
she was begging, he would lay relentless siege to the sweet cleft between her legs
with his hands, and then his mouth.  He would pleasure her so thoroughly, she
would lose all coherence.  Then , and only then, would he spread her thighs
wide beneath him and –
    “What’s all this?”
    Startled by the pique in her
melodic voice, Connor dragged his gaze from the bed to the very object of his
fantastical musings.  She was breathtaking.  Even with her glossy hair captured
in some kind of netted contraption and covered with a thin veil.  His hands
fisted at his sides, longing to release it and plunge deep into her soft
tresses.  She wore a borrowed gown of soft blue and lavender with a golden
girdle at her waist, and an expression that could have frozen a charging stag
in his tracks.
    “Did ye enjoy yer visit to
Strathlauchlan?” he asked, trying to ascertain the cause of her ire.  If
someone had mistreated her, he’d see them drawn and quartered, their limbs
displayed in the castle square as a dire warning.
    “It was lovely,” she answered
shortly.  “Evelyn is marvelous pleasant company, in fact, the best I’ve
encountered here.”  Raising a meaningful eyebrow, she examined the room through
narrowed eyes, taking in the efforts of the afternoon. 
    His face fell, along with his hopes
for the evening.  The lass didn’t seem in the least pleased; in fact, her
chilly demeanor vexed him severely.  He’d prefer her fiery temper and brash wit
to this.  Mayhap she was hungry.  He tended to be a mighty bastard when
famished, and she’d been out at the market for several hours.  Gesturing to the
spread of supper and surfeit of overstuffed pillows, he made a desperate
attempt to salvage the effect.  “I thought to join ye for a repast, perhaps we
may better acquaint ourselves.”
    Her mask of indifferent scorn
slipped a little as she glanced at the sea of candles and fragrant wreathes of
Scottish primrose and heather before finally resting on the platters of fresh
bread, cheese, fruit, smoked herring and a fine imported cask of wine.  He
glimpsed a moment of hesitant longing and his hopes rose again. 
    Until her features hardened.  “This
is how you were planning to do it?” she asked in a stony voice.  “Lure me with
practiced seduction so I will accept you as my mate?”
    Connor wasn’t sure he didn’t
swallow his tongue along with his shock.
    “That’s right,” she hissed.  “I
know what you want from me, Connor MacLauchlan.  I know that I must agree to be
your bride before you gain more power.”
    Struck dumb, Connor just shook his
head.
    A mirthless laugh escaped lips
drawn thin and white with anger.  “I didn’t believe it at first, when Evelyn
told me about magic, despite what I witnessed of you on the road.  Until this .” 
She held out her wrists, free of bandages.  Healthy, lily-white skin glowed in
the candlelight, and where raw wounds had been before, fine blue veins pulsed
with vitality beneath the translucent flesh.  She’d healed overnight, as Connor
had known she would. 
    “But, Evelyn also explained that,
though I am your mate and you have brought me to this place against my will, I
do not have to accept your hand unless I want to.”
    Connor saw now, that he’d made a
mistake encouraging the two women spend time together.  He’d thought that his
loyal sister-in-law would work to soften Lindsay’s heart toward him.  Instead,
Evelyn rallied to the side of her maltreated compatriot and gave her all the
pertinent information with which to make a decision.  Now Lindsay understood
that, though she was technically his captive, she wielded all power over his
future happiness.
    Women!   He ran a hand over his
head, trying to figure his next stratagem.  Gods but she was beautiful when
angry.  Her breasts heaved against the bodice of her gown, challenging the
constitution of the seams.  Connor blinked, forcing himself to concentrate on
the problem at hand.  If he wanted to do more than look at her beauty,
he’d need to pacify her