Page 38 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

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Her scent swam in the air.

Grace's cheek was near enough to touch, and Andrew desperately wished he could. Instead, he contented himself gazing at her hair, which tumbled to her shapely shoulders.

Except there was a problem.

Paton.

The man was on her like a locust, his gray tentacles pressing in against her.

She was prey.

But on seeing him, Paton's demeanor changed.

"Aha, Andrew!" he called, in over-friendly tones. Andrew smiled but stiffly. "I was just saying how we should leave the young lass in peace."

Of course, ye were, lad!thought Andrew, but did not say anything. But his look said it all, and Paton scurried away like an invertebrate.

Finally, Andrew was face-to-face with Grace.

He had been waiting for this moment all day. Just the two of them, alone.

"Are ye alright, lass?" he asked, peering into her eyes. Even through her fatigue, she was compelling. Wine and song had brought color to her cheeks, and she never looked more alluring.

"Och, dinnae fash," said Grace, embarrassed. She kicked her feet about the bed. Andrew sensed her discomfort. "The auld goat is nay bother."

"I'm sure," said Andrew. He had no doubt that she could put him in his place, but he could also see her discomfort. Now that Paton had disappeared, he brought himself a little closer. "But I was just checking."

Grace smiled. "Well, thank ye," she said politely.

"Ye dinnae have tae thank me," he said, grinning. The girl's scent filled his head, doing things to him. He knew then he had to stroke her. Just once, to make sure she was real.

But Andrew knew he could not. He had jumped in once already. But perhaps he should not. After all, Grace was one of the nobles—effectively, his lady—and she was well out of his rank.

But if Grace felt like that, then she did not show it. Curiously, she pressed her head to his, nuzzling Andrew on his cheek. A bolt ran through him as if he had been struck by lightning.

Even the slightest touch set him off. A mad buzz ran all the way through Andrew, making him stop and sigh.

He needed her.

Her face brushed against his, rubbing his cheek. Her rose-pink lips hovered closer. Andrew almost could not stand it one second longer, but he did not have to.

Because she kissed him. Suddenly, experimentally, Grace's lips were on his, kissing him lightly but fully.

A pause. That look in her hazel-brown eyes, egging him on and teasing for more.

She got it. Andrew could not stop.

TIghtly, he locked his lips into hers, kissing her with a passion that surprised them both.

"Andrew!"

Andrew looked up.

It was a voice he wasn't expecting.

Not Grace, but her little sister—Fiona.