He usedall the willpower he could muster to suppress his body's response at the mere proximity of her, a traitorous response to the sweetness of her scent. At the way her breath whispered against his skin as she spoke.
Focus,ye bloody fool.
He forcedhis thoughts away from the way she felt in his arms.
"Nae yet."He smirked, the words filled with dark promise.
MacMahon had triedto take what was his, sending men to claim McGill territory and steal livestock and crops that belonged to Ewan's clan. The bastard had thought himself clever, striking while Ewan was away dealing with a border dispute.
But he'd thought wrong.
Ewan vaultedup behind Maia in one fluid motion, settling into the saddle and immediately caging her body with his arms as he gathered the reins. She stiffened at the contact, her spine going rigid against his chest, and he felt a tremor run through her.
The tremor turnedinto a full shiver as he leaned forward, adjusting his seat. Her back pressed more firmly against him, and Ewan had to grit his teeth against the sensation.
She wassoft everywhere he was hard, yielding where he was unyielding, and the thin cotton of her shift did absolutely nothing to hide the warmth of her skin or the shape of her body.
He could feelevery breath she took, the rise and fall of her ribs beneath his forearms. Could smell the faint scent of lavender in her hair, mixed with something sweeter—honey, maybe, or chamomile.
He was here for revenge,not to bed some pampered niece who'd likely never done a day's work in her life.
"Pampered?"The lass's whispers rose with indignation. "Is that what ye think I am?" He hadn't realized he'd said that last part aloud. Ewan's jaw tightened. "What else would ye be? The precious niece of Laird MacMahon, locked away in yer tower like some fairy tale princess."
"Locked away,"she repeated bitterly. "Aye, ye have that part right at least."
"But naebecause I was precious. Because I was—" She cut herself off, shaking her head. "It doesnae matter."
"Try me."The words came out before he could stop them, genuine curiosity threading through his voice. She was silent for a long moment.
"Why should I tell ye anythin'?Ye just stole me from me bed like some, some brigand."
Silence stretchedbetween them before Ewan released a long breath. "Ye're right." He paused. "I took ye for a purpose, and that is the only interest I have in ye."
Damn liar.
He triedto push his senses away from the intoxicating way she smelled that made him want to bury his face in those loose brown waves and breathe her in until he was drunk on it.
Stop it.She's a prisoner. A tool. Nothin' more.
But his bodywasn't listening to his mind's commands. His body was too busy imagining what she'd look like spread beneath him, all that soft flesh bared for his hands and mouth. Too busy wondering if her skin would flush pink when he touched her, if she'd gasp or moan or whimper when he put his hands in her folds.
"Listen to me,"he barked, his voice harder than necessary as he tried to wrench his thoughts back under control.
Fear.She should be afraid of him. Should understand exactly what kind of man had stolen her away in the night. That fear would keep her compliant, would prevent her from doing anything foolish, and it would sure as hell keep him from acting on these unwanted urges.
He leaned forward,his lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear. "If ye scream, I'll gag ye. If ye try to run, I'll catch ye and tie ye to the saddle. And if ye think yer uncle's guards can save ye, " He paused, letting the silence stretch taut between them. "They cannae."
Maia's breath hitched,but when she spoke, there was steel beneath the tremor. "Ye might as well let me go right now. Or I willnae make things easy for ye."
"If ye try anythin',ye'll lose." His voice was dark silk and iron. "But I suspect ye already ken that, lass. Ye cannae escape me."
Instead of responding,another shiver rippled through her, stronger this time. Her hands came up to grip the pommel of the saddle, knuckles white in the moonlight.
The movement pressedher backside more firmly against his groin, and Ewan sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
He wondered,in a dark corner of his mind that he usually kept locked tight, how she'd look shivering from unquenched desire instead of fear.
Wouldher grey eyes turn hazy and unfocused? Would her lips part on breathless little gasps? Would she arch into his touch or shy away from it?
