The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(6)

Anne?

Hamish blinked. “Anne?”

“They are of an age.”

Indeed, they were. He cleared his throat. “Anne . . . dislikes Scotsmen?”

“Oh yes. On account of the fact that she fell in love with one, and he broke her heart.”

He barked a laugh. “She canna blame all Scotsmen for that.”

“She can,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “And she does. Faithless philanderers, all of them,” she warbled.

“That is no’ true. Scotsmen are the most devoted lovers!”

“Really?” She fluttered her lashes at him, which sent rivulets of delight and alarm through him. Her expression was far too intent. And again, not intent enough.

“I . . . ah. Aye. You’ll never find a more loyal man than a Scotsman.”

Her smile was stunning. “Well, I believe you,” she said, coming to her feet. He followed suit. “But you will need to convince Anne of that.”

He had no intention of doing any such thing.

She held out her arm and he took it as a matter of habit, and then they headed down the stairs.

He had no idea what happened next, other than the vague recollection of Elizabeth tripping on a stair, and his arms coming out to catch her.

But then, there she was. In his embrace. Staring up at him with wide doe-like eyes. Lips parted. Breath soft and sweet on his cheek.

She slipped a bit and gripped him closer, pressing her delicious body against his. His head spun. His cock rose.

She’s too young, some small voice cried from the back of his mind. She is unequal to your experience. This is wrong!

Ah, such a chorus of dissent.

He ignored them all and lowered his head.

The desire to taste her was far too strong, and try as he might to resist, he could not.

He was going to kiss Elizabeth St. Claire, and he was going to kiss her now.





Chapter Three


Elizabeth shivered as Hamish’s arms tightened around her. Her heart pattered uncontrollably and her breath caught. She knew he was going to kiss her and the thought thrilled her to the point that her head spun.

She’d been burning with curiosity since the moment she’d set eyes on him and aching for a moment just like this.

His warm breath drifted over her cheek, a tantalizing scent, musky and manly. She sighed and nestled closer.

His nostrils flared and he made a sound at the back of his throat, something like a growl.

And then his lips took hers.

It was a tentative kiss at first, an agonizing rub that made her want only more.

She must have clutched him, arched against him, whimpered perhaps, because, suddenly, that soft sweet buss became something more, something wild and raw. He opened his mouth against hers and, with a tremble, she followed suit. When his tongue touched hers, her knees collapsed, but he held her tight.

Ah, God, what glory!

He was large and warm and hard and he consumed her with a passion that stole her senses.

This!

This!

This was what she wanted. What she’d dreamed of. What she craved.

In her madness to get closer, she tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged. He grunted and changed his angle, deepening the kiss even further. He walked her back until she was braced against the column of the gazebo, and his lips traveled over her cheek to nestle in the crook of her neck. The bristles of his beard awoke every sleeping nerve to dance with delight.

Elizabeth moaned. She had never imagined, never dreamed that something could feel so utterly wonderful.

But what a fool she was, because just then, his large hand skimmed up her side and he cupped her breast.

Shock took her as his thumb scraped over her nipple. Sensation rained down upon her like a summer storm, delight and agony and need all rolled into one glorious moment.

“Hamish,” she sighed, digging her fingers into his scalp, raking him with abandon. “Yes. Yes.”

To her horror, he froze. His hand stilled and that delightful worrying at her neck halted.

It was cold there when he withdrew.

Her heart ached as well.

Damn. She should never have said anything.

When he spun away, she nearly collapsed but managed to catch herself just in time. He took three long strides away from her and then tunneled his fingers through his glorious hair. “I shouldna ha’ done that,” he muttered.

Something like annoyance slammed into her and she frowned. That had been the most wondrous moment of her life . . . and he regretted it?

She fought for and achieved a ragged element of aplomb. “It was only a kiss.” Ah, but how the words burned, bitter and bile filled as they were.

He whirled around, and she thought perhaps she saw a hint of outrage in his eyes. “Only a kiss?” he thundered.

“A very nice kiss?” When he simply stared at her, she continued. “I enjoyed it very much.”

His face went a bit red. “Do you often kiss strange men with no provocation?” A bark.

Really, he had no call to be snippy.

“You provoked me,” she pointed out.

“I most certainly did no’.” Oh yes. Outrage indeed.

“You smiled at me.”

“You smiled at me.”

“And when I tripped”—she had not actually tripped—“you caught me.”

“That was the bluidy gentlemanly thing to do.”