Page 17 of Kidnapped by her Highland Enemy

The inn-keeper’s lips curved just so as she took the coins, “Very well, please come with me.”

She led them to where the other wing joined the tavern and gestured for a woman to come near. When the servant-girl did, the proprietress said something lowly that Maisie did not hear—and from a look at Lucas’s impassive face, he was not aware of it either.

“Please, follow me.” The girl curtsied to them and took them to the highest level where she unlocked a room. “Miss Sandra is giving ye this room and the one below it. Supper will be sent up in an hour and a bath will be arranged if ye’d like.”

“Please,” Maisie blurted, then went red. “Please, I’d love one, thank ye.”

“I’ll do with one meself,” Lucas said.

“Aye, me lady,” she bowed out.

Lucas came to stand behind Maisie and placed his hands on her shoulders. She reached up and tugged them around her waist instead as she looked around.

The windows, locked tight against the night wind, were draped in wine-red, amber, and gold that matched the drapes on the largest-framed bed he’d ever imagined to be in an inn. Maisie pulled away from him to run her fingers over the furs on the bed.

“It’s so soft, nay wonder Mister Jamieson wanted to come here,” she murmured.

There were large fur rugs spread throughout the chamber and chests sat beside the bed and along the far wall near a fireplace. Stacks of wood were at the side and an iron poker was held to the walls by hooks.

Taking her into his arms, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead and nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Ye deserve a good night’s rest on a proper bed.”

Turning, Maisie rested her head on his chest. “Thank ye.”

“Have yer bath while I go and see to Oliver and Ian.” With a quick kiss to her cheek, he left the room to come across Oliver talking with the proprietress, Sandra.

“Jamieson,” Sandra purred. “’Tis good to see ye.”

Oliver nodded, “Ye as well. Thank ye for yer hospitality.”

“Always,” she smiled and then left, leaving Lucas to peer at his man-at-arms.

Oliver huffed, “Daenae look at me that way. Aye, she flirts, but she kens that I am married. Now, if ye’ll excuse me, the bed behind that doorway is calling to me.”

Laughing, Lucas left the building for the stable and went to see if Ian was settling in. The youngest of them was in the attic with a bed stuffed of heather hay, thick blankets, and a trencher of roasted fowl.

“Keep a look out,” Lucas warned as he left him. “Be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“Aye.”

Heading back to the room, Lucas knocked on the door and waited for Maisie to unlatch.

He took one step and paused in his stride.

Moonlight from the window rested over Maisie, who was only dressed in her thin shift.

The cloth was almost gauzy and he could see the dusky rose of the nipples of her pert breast through it and his body tightened.

“I take it, ye’ve bathed already,” he said, huskily.

“Aye,” she said. “And supper will be here soon.”

“Eat without me,” he said while gathering his things. “I’ll be along soon.”

What will it take for me to have her? To kiss her, taste her…take her as mine?

Languishing in the tub, Lucas fought hard to subdue his desire for Maisie. He wanted her, body and soul. It did not help that while teaching her to handle the dagger, they had tumbled, tussled, and touched . Every single encounter with her, spiking his arousal for her.

It had been a miracle how he had survived the trip so far without her seeing and knowing his lust for her. He went to bed at night and woke with it lingering on the edges of his thought. He did not know what to do to smother the unrelenting desire that seemed to plague him day and night.

For the first time in all his life, he found himself so fixated with a lass that to concentrate, he had forced the soldier in him to take control of his movements and for the man in him to subside.

But now, God knew, he was bloody tired of denying himself the lustful thoughts that flittered through his mind.

He wished to know what she looked like lying beneath him—her legs, long and lean, wrapped about his waist. Her tongue, soft and pink, welcoming him for a taste. He ached to take her breasts, ample and pert, into his mouth and suckle the ripe buds.

She is a virgin.

She is the one lass I cannae have.

She is untouchable.

The reasons rested in his head, but his body still clamored and falling into temptation, he took himself in a rough, calloused palm and his fell eyes shut, his head falling back against the tub.

His head already seeped with moisture, and he stroked himself with a brutal desperation born of a need she had created in him.

He could see her on his bed, her bare body a contrast to his dark sheets, her pristine body, perfectly untouched. He wanted to worship her, kiss the length of her, take her to the edge of breaking but pull away, stroke her to the edge of fulfillment, part her trembling thighs, and seal them as one.

Knowing that he would be the first man—the only man—to show her unfounded pleasure, to hear her uninhibited cries as he took her, to savor the burn of her fingers sinking into his flash as she arched under him, whimpering his name…

his climax ripped through him and he doubled over from the force of his own completion.

Sagging against the tub, Lucas kept his eyes closed to hold unto the image of Maisie behind his eyes, but she flitted away. By the time he went back to the room, he would be right back where he had started, wanting a woman who he could never truly have.