Unwilling (Highland Historical #2)

readying the
killing blow.  Perhaps he was leaving her to die in peace.  Either way, it
mattered not.  Until a warm, slightly roughened cheek pressed against hers and
he took in an endless breath against her hair, filling his lungs to the brink.
    Was he… smelling her?
    He exhaled a soft groan and drew
back.   His savage face appeared pleased as his gaze roamed every inch of her
face, and then dipped lower.  The rumbling grew louder. 
    Lindsay looked down to find her
flesh very much intact, and very bare.  Her bodice and undergarments lay
flayed open all the way to her waist.  Her breasts quivered with each of her
shivers and drew his hungry gaze.
    Blood still stained her dress, but
hadn’t seeped to the clean skin beneath.  Her flesh seemed to glow translucent
in the dimness of the coach.  She tried to grasp the sides of her bodice and
pull it together, but he was on her before she could move.
    She cried out in alarm as his hands
pinned her wrists to the bench beside her.  His hips forced themselves between
her knees and she was so grateful he hadn’t sliced through her skirts. 
    “Please…” she whispered as he
brought his body close to hers, but didn’t touch his stained armor to her
exposed skin.  “Don’t kill me.”
    As the words left her mouth, she
realized there were things worse than death.
    He shook his head slowly, an amused
smile playing at the corners of his full mouth as he examined her like a rare
specimen.  Lindsay didn’t understand his bizarre behavior, but couldn’t bring
herself to move.  She had the distinct impression that if she ran, it would be
like inciting a predator to the chase.  He’d not harmed her.  Yet.  But perhaps
he was more like a cat than the intense purr signified.  Maybe he liked to play
with his prey first before butchering it.
    She swallowed hysterics that
threatened to bubble into her throat.
    He gave her hands a gentle press,
as if to tell her to leave them where they were, then released them.  Lindsay
didn’t dare defy him.  He reached long, roughened fingers to her face, wiping
at a trail of frightened tears she hadn’t been aware she’d shed. 
    His hand snaked around to plunge
into her loose hair.  She could feel how large it was as it cupped her head,
and precisely how strong.  He could crush her skull with one flex.  He didn’t,
though.  He just urged her, rather tenderly, toward him. 
    Lindsay’s blood quickened through
her veins.  She had no choice but to let him pull her closer.  Closer to those
terrifying eyes.  Closer to that blindingly exquisite face.  Closer to his
sinfully sensuous mouth. 
    So he was some sort of incubus. 
Even in these horrifying circumstances, with the blood of the freshly fallen at
their feet, she couldn’t prevent the thrill that shot through her. 
    If this were a reaper or a demon,
surely she couldn’t be the focus of his ultimate attentions.  Lindsay gave
a weak resistance in his unyielding grip as she frantically tried to think of
anything she’d ever done that would damn her soul.  She’d never been
particularly obedient or subservient, but she’d only been quarrelsome if she
was certain to be right and her opponent wrong. 
    Which was most of the time. 
    A few white lies might come back to
haunt her, though she was pretty sure she’d confessed them at some point to
father Vincent.  Hadn’t she?  Vanity could be a marked weakness.  Admittedly,
she took pride in her long, thick black hair and kept her skin soft and
fragrant.  So would that be considered pride?  Or vanity?  Which one was the least
egregious sin?  She didn’t always mean it when she said her prayers, but
she dutifully said them, all the same. 
    Prayer. 
    That was it.  Demons could be
repelled by invoking the holy spirit through prayer.  Couldn’t they?
    “Hail Mary, full of grace.  The
lord is with thee…”
    The demon’s sinister mouth curled
into a snarl of distaste.  He didn’t burst into flames as she had hoped, but he
appeared somewhat uncomfortable.  Oh, praise be!  It was working.
    “Um…”  How did the rest of it go? 
Something about being blessed and Jesus and the fruit of her womb.  Oh drat. 
At least she remembered the important part.  The one she would need any moment
now that she’d angered him.  Her voice wavered.  “Pray for us sinners now and
at the hour of our death.  Ame—”
    He cut off her benediction with his
lips.
     

Chapter
Four
     
    Many times the