Page 372 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“Oooh!” She twisted, kicked, and screamed, but Iain responded with a deliberate tug on her skirt, bringing it an inch higher with every threat she threw at him. An attempt to slide off his lap ended with his elbow deep in her derriere.

“Brute,” Victoria screamed against the shoulder of his horse. “Let me go!”

She thrashed even harder and found her skirt over her head. A hard pinch was felt on bare skin in almost the same spot his elbow had been. Her temper slipped past reason and, gripping the thing nearest her—Iain’s leg—Victoria bit down on his calf. He let out a warrior’s yell and his leg shot out in defense, nearly knocking her senseless. Spots raced across her vision. Iain pulled back on the reins and, yanking Victoria into his arms, slid from the saddle. He set her on her feet. She wobbled and he caught her before she toppled over.

“Get your hands off me,” she hissed.

He released her and she fell with a heavy thud to her backside.

“Sweet Jesu.” She reached back to rub the rise of her derrière. “You are a barbarian.”

“A barbarian would beat you, which you deserve.”

“You did,” she said, with vehemence.

“Nay, my lass. That was a gentle warning. Try such foolishness again and you will learn what a real beating is.”

Victoria stopped massaging her back and looked up at him. As his voice had indicated, no remorse showed in his expression. “I do not know why you are angry with me,” she said, suddenly understanding why Samuel had no wish to face him.

“It is not my fault.”

“Not your fault! This whole affair is your doing. If you had kept your mouth shut—nay,” he raised a finger when she started to interrupt. “If you had kept quiet, Samuel would have made his posturing, just as he always does, then left without incident. It has gone on five years, and this is the first attempt to make good on that ridiculous threat.”

Heedless of the sudden throb in her head, Victoria scrambled to her feet. “Do not think to blame

me for this—this—”

“This what?”

“This habit you Scots have of thinking you can make off with a female without so much as an introduction.”

“Nay, lass, this is not the same, and do not think I am ignorant of your part in this scheme.”

“I did not tell him to come for me.”

“You need not have said the words,” Iain’s voice rose a notch, and he took a step in her direction. “You as much as invited them to while I looked on.”

“I only wanted to escape you,” Victoria shouted with a quick step toward him before retreating again.

Iain’s hands worked at his sides. “So, then, you would rather marry Grant?”

“Nay,” she said. “That would not do at all.”

“Then, by God, we will end this once and for all.” Iain yanked her to him. “More than once you have driven me to the fire and left me there to burn.

Tonight we burn together.”

One arm around her waist, Iain pushed her downward. A sense of falling assailed Victoria and she threw her arms around his neck, leaving not a hair’s breadth between their bodies as the force of his weight pinned her to the ground.

“What—” Her protest was cut off when his lips captured hers.

Her head spun and she tried to shake him off, but

Iain moved his hips against her, bringing the dizzying recognition of his arousal. She shoved against his shoulders, but her grip weakened at the feel of the rhythm between them. She heard herself groan as his hand slid from her waist to tug on the sleeve of her dress. A quiver began deep inside her when his lips moved from her mouth, along her cheek, and down to where her shoulder now lay bare. Victoria twisted in his hold at the feel of her skirt again inching upward.

She gasped. “Nay—we cannot—”

Iain’s mouth came to her ear. “We can,” he whispered against the pulse in the hollow of her throat.