Page 12 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)
W here instinct should have urged her to run, it did the opposite as Maddie felt the burning graze of his mouth on hers. Her hand slid up his muscled arm, gliding over a broad shoulder and the nape of his neck, into his wet hair.
Meanwhile, her other hand gripped his arm tighter, pulling herself closer into the heat of him as, with no knowledge at all of what she was doing, she kissed him back.
There was no hesitation, just a reflex that seemed ingrained in her blood. A need to press herself against him and meet the burn of his kiss with one of her own, her lips molding perfectly with his, moving in a heady dance that made her heart pound.
So, this is why people want to kiss...
She had never viewed it from the perspective of a participant before. All she’d understood of a kiss was the physical, anatomical nature of it: two mouths meeting each other, seemingly at random.
But it wasn’t that at all. It was passion made tangible, it was the mortal body conjuring something magical, it was every sense within her heightening at once, it was... an anomaly that defied scientific explanation.
How could the graze of his mouth ignite sparks in her veins and tighten the muscles from her chest to her thighs?
How could it be that she was able to draw breath, yet the ebb and flow of his lips made her pant and gasp?
How could the press of her own lips against his make her tremble like this, longing for more?
How could such a simple act cause her entire body to flush with heat, despite it being bitterly cold outside?
It defied everything she knew of the natural world, where everything had a purpose. What purpose did this serve, making her feel like she was glowing from within? What purpose could there be in making a mortal feel otherworldly?
Is it to lower my guard? Is it to make me want to bear his offspring? She couldn’t deny that, if this feeling lasted, she could very well be convinced.
Her fingertips tangled in his hair as she kissed him harder, losing herself in every searing catch of his mouth against hers. And when his tongue glided against hers, she didn’t falter, the sensation only making her want to learn more, to kiss him until she really did have no breath left.
Don’t you know a trick when you see one? Her mind managed to whisper through the haze of bliss. You said you’d never fall for his charms, yet here you are, falling. How many other women do you think he’s said those things to, tempting them as he’s tempting you?
It was like the loch had reared up and doused her with its icy waters, her ardor turning to anger as she shoved him hard in the chest. He barely moved, but the thud of her palms was enough to give him pause, their kiss severed in an instant.
“Unbelievable!” she barked, staggering backward, her veins still coursing with the rush of the kiss. “You, Laird Muir, are unbelievable!”
Oscar brushed his lips with his thumb, breathing hard. “Ye wouldnae be the first to say so.”
“Exactly! And, to think, I almost fell into the same trap as those poor women who come and go from your castle!” she wheezed, feeling somewhat dizzy as she struggled to get her breath back. “Goodness, it’s a wonder I didn’t feel your smug smile against my mouth!”
“Nay, Maddie, but I felt yer smile against mine,” he replied, his voice husky with a desire that she refused to listen to. She wouldn’t be drawn in again, not if she valued what she’d come to his castle for.
She shook her head, wagging a finger at him.
“Call it a solitary moment of madness that won’t be repeated.
” She clasped her other hand to her chest, feeling the wild beat of her heart.
“I don’t doubt that your seductions work, Oscar, but you will not say such.
.. incendiary things to me, hoping to... ”
Her cheeks flamed, her tongue tying itself into knots as she fought for the right words.
But every time she tried to say “lie with me” or “make love to me” or “sire your heir with me” her throat tightened a bit more, until she thought she might choke.
She couldn’t even bring herself to say it in the most scientific, objective way possible.
“Hopin’ to what, lass?” He took a step toward her, his gray eyes shining like a wolf spotting a cornered lamb.
She swiped a hand in front of her. “That’s far enough, Oscar!
” she shouted, knowing that if he got too close again, she might catch herself in his trap a second time.
“You want to ensnare me in motherhood, that is what you are hoping to do. You want me to make a mistake tonight that might give you an heir, months from now. Well, you can take your silky words and hungry eyes and... dangerous lips and keep them far away from me. You don’t get what you desire until I get what I desire. ”
“Ye might find that changin’ if ye’d let me come a little closer,” Oscar replied, licking his lips. “Aye, ye might find that our desires are nae so different.”
“No! No, stop it! What did I just say? None of your silky words! If you carry on, I’ll splash you with that loch water until you cool down!
” she warned, crossing her arms out in front of her like she meant to slice his advances away.
“I won’t be tricked into any kisses or..
. anything else until you take care of my education, as you promised. ”
He halted, chuckling as he put his hands up in mock surrender. “But I was plannin’ to give ye yer education. One ye’d assuredly favor more than dusty books and dustier professors.”
Maddie picked up a pebble. “I mean it.”
She couldn’t throw straight with forty attempts to hit a target, but he didn’t need to know that.
“How sweet ye are, threatenin’ yer admirin’ betrothed with a rock,” he said wryly, staying where he was.
Maddie scoffed. “I am anything but sweet.”
“Ye are if ye think this has anythin’ to do with creatin’ an heir.” He paused, tilting his head. “Na?ve might be a better word, now that I think about it.”
She faltered, the pebble warming in her shaky hand. “If it’s not about an heir, why are you trying to... fox me with your...” she wafted her free hand “… manly mischiefs?”
She cringed inwardly, scolding her brain for not being able to come up with something better than that. She was already a broadly educated woman; it wasn’t helping her position to sound like an utter dolt.
But he didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t so much as smile.
Instead, he took his twisted shirt in his hands and pulled sharply, the fabric giving a faint but emphatic snap. Not taking his eyes off her, he wound the material tighter around his hands, as if he meant to restrain himself.
“It’s about ye,” he replied, his voice throaty with need. “It’s about ye surrenderin’ to me completely. It’s about endin’ the hunt for that rarest of birds: the one who willnae be caged but comes back to perch because she cannae help it.”
Maddie took a steadying breath, her mouth dry. “And I’m supposed to be tempted by that when you’re making it look like you want to strangle me with your shirt?”
“I wouldnae strangle ye, lass,” he said, loosening the fabric between his hands. “There’s nay pleasure in that. But me hand on yer throat, gently squeezin’, while me mouth teases yer lips and me fingertips send ye soarin’ into a world of bliss—och, there’s pleasure in that. Yer pleasure.”
Maddie stumbled, not because of any shifting pebbles, but because her knees suddenly felt weak.
Meeting his gaze with what she hoped resembled defiance, or disapproval even, she tried her best not to imagine what he was saying.
Unfortunately, her dazed brain hadn’t received the message that she was not, under any circumstances, to picture the scene.
She could almost feel it: his strong hand curving around her throat, his other palm sliding down the center of her, skimming over her stomach to where a bundle of nerves already pulsed in anticipation.
Grace had whispered all about a woman’s most powerful source of pleasure, and though Maddie hadn’t explored alone, she knew of its existence.
Right now, it yearned to feel his touch, to understand entirely.
“Careful where ye tread,” he purred, moving so quickly she had no time to throw a pebble or fend him off with a slice of her hand.
His thumb brushed the apple of her cheek, her eyes closing at the tender friction, as he whispered, “How can ye say ye’re nae sweet when ye’re sweet enough to devour, blushin’ like that.
Yer cheek is hotter than a brazier, lass. ”
The fleeting spell shattered, her eyes flying open, both of her hands coming up to swat his fingertips away.
She was flustered, she was so hot she was beginning to sweat, and she didn’t like it one bit.
She was sensible, she was rational, she didn’t have a foolish bone in her body; she would not allow him to have so much power over her, when all his words, all his seductions, had probably been used a thousand times before on a thousand different women.
“I do not blush! I am just warm from the walk,” she retorted, hoping that the darkness would back her up.
“And if you approach me again, you’ll find out just how sour I can be.
This ‘rare bird’ won’t be caged and certainly won’t be perching anywhere near you, until you do as you promised.
Try it a moment sooner, and I’ll peck your eyes out. ”
Laughter rumbled in the back of his throat as he flicked out his shirt and pulled it on, concealing that sculpted masterpiece of muscle and smooth, sun-browned, scarred skin from Maddie’s still-appreciative view.
Stuffing the hem into the belted waist of his kilt, he began walking off through the trees, taking a different path to the one she’d arrived upon. By the looks of it, his trail was clearer than hers, the route well-worn.
Without looking back at her, Oscar called out, “Are ye comin’ or are ye goin’ to stay out here and miss yer weddin’?”
Muttering words that would have made a nun faint, Maddie snatched up her lantern and took off after him, hoping that the walk would temper the last embers of desire that still burned traitorously in her veins.