What the hell did she think she was doing?Caitrina was his, but she was kissing another man. Then it changed. He saw her try to push him away, saw the look of determination on the other man’s face, and Jamie saw red, the roar in his ears deafening. He closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds and tore her from MacNeil’s arms, striking his fist into the other man’s jaw with the force of a smith’s hammer, hearing the satisfying crunch. The next blow landed in MacNeil’s stomach, making him keel over.
“What are you doing?” MacNeil said, gasping for breath.
“You damn bastard! The lass is not willing.”
MacNeil wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, trying to stay the gush of blood from Jamie’s first blow. “She was willing enough. She kissed me, or didn’t you see?” He gave Caitrina a leering glance. “I was only giving her what she begged for—”
Jamie’s fist cut off the offending words. But the other man was ready. When he’d been bent over, he’d managed to slide a dirk from his side and now plunged the blade toward Jamie’s gut. Jamie spun to the side, avoiding the blow, and caught the other man’s wrist in his hand, turning until he heard bone crunch and the blade slipped from his grasp. After kicking it out of the way, he hit him again, and this time MacNeil dropped to the ground.
Slowly, he tried to pull himself up. Jamie made a move toward him, intent on finishing him off, when Caitrina stepped in front of him.
“Don’t.” She put her hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her. Bloodlust still pounded through his veins, and it took a moment for his gaze to clear. “You’ll kill him.”
“It’s no more than he deserves,” Jamie said through clenched teeth.
“Please.” She stepped closer, her sweet floral perfume drowning out the primitive stench of battle. She looked as if she were about to cry; unshed tears sparkled in her eyes, and her mouth trembled. “Not for me.”
Jamie stood stone still, muscles clenched, every instinct clamoring to finish what he’d started. He gazed down at her face, and the gentle plea worked its soothing magic.
He drew back, raking his hand through his hair. What the hell had just come over him? He’d never felt like that. He was always under control.Always.
He turned to MacNeil, who’d managed to right himself again. “Get out of here. If I see you near her again, I’ll kill you.”
Realizing how close he’d just come to suffering that fate, MacNeil mustered what dignity he could manage and ran, disappearing through the trees.
Caitrina collapsed against him, and his chest squeezed so tightly that it felt as if it were burning. Just for a moment, he let himself savor the sensation of her gratitude, of her need for him. “Thank you.” She lifted her watery gaze to his. “I was so scared.”
His temper had cooled, but not completely. He wanted to kiss her senseless and punish her for tormenting him like this. When he thought of what could have happened . . . It made him ill.
“He deserved worse for what he attempted. What if I hadn’t arrived when I did?”
The color slid from her face.
At least she realized how close she’d come to rape. He took her by the shoulders and forced her gaze to his. “What did you think you were doing, toying with him like that?”
“I didn’t mean . . .”
“Then what did you mean?” The odd tightness in his chest returned. “God’s wounds, Caitrina, I saw you kiss him.”
Her eyes flashed and she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. After what had just happened, he had to admire her spirit.
“It’s all your fault.”
His jaw slackened. “My fault?”
“You should never have kissed me.”
All of a sudden, he understood. He couldn’t believe she could be that naïve. “So this was some damn experiment?” When he thought of how she could have been hurt . . . “Don’t you know what might have happened?”
Her face burned with humiliation. “I just wanted to stop seeing your face.”
Her voice broke, and it did something to him. His anger slid away. He could understand her confusion—hell, he felt it, too. She was innocent. Too young. With little knowledge of what happened between a man and a woman. She couldn’t realize that this passion and fierce attraction between them was different. But he would show her.
He lowered his mouth, his lips hovering only inches from hers. He could feel the quickening of her breath against his and the quiver of anticipation that ran through her.
She wanted this as badly as he did. Her lips parted . . .
But he did not kiss her mouth. His lips dropped to her jaw and neck, tasting the honey of her skin. He burrowed into the warm, soft skin of her neck, inhaling the floral perfume of her silky hair. He devoured her skin, kissing, sucking, licking, until she shuddered against him.
