Page 12 of Highland Storm

“Nay, that’s no’ what I mean.” He reached into his boot and pulled out a small metal flask. Unscrewing the top, he held the vessel up to his mouth and swallowed down some liquid, letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

“Whisky?” she asked, recognizing the smell. Gingerly, she pulled the thread through his skin.

“Mountain Magic,” he said, through gritted teeth, raising the flask and taking another swig. He swallowed forcefully which told her he felt the pain from her ministrations.

“Mountain Magic? What’s that?” she asked.

“Ye dinna ken?” He acted as if she should know. “My great-grandda makes it. It is what keeps him alive this long.”

“I’d like some as well,” she told him, knotting the thread and breaking it with her teeth.

“Nay. This is no’ for lassies. It is very strong.”

“Give it to me,” she said, snatching it from his hand, not liking when someone told her she couldn’t do something. It only made her want to prove them wrong. She’d tasted strong whisky before, so this was nothing new. Lifting the flask to her lips, he stopped her with his words.

“I’m warnin’ ye lass . . . dinna do it.”

She cocked a smile, staring him straight in the eyes as she took a big swallow . . . and almost died! It felt like the fires of hell burning a path down her throat. Phoebe wasn’t at all sure that her body wasn’t on fire. Her hand shot up around her neck. She couldn’t breathe!

“Are ye all right?” he asked. “Yer face is turnin’ blue.”

She tried to inhale but couldn’t. The whisky was so potent that it was sure to kill her. She wheezed in an attempt to get some air.

His head jerked upward and concern painted his face. “Ye really canna breathe, can ye?”

Phoebe shook her head, reaching out one hand for him, silently begging for his help. She didn’t want to die this way.

“By the rood, ye are no’ jestin’!” Hawke jumped up and pulled her into his arms, hitting her over and over on the back. It did nothing to help. It only aggravated her because it hurt. He was a big man and stronger than he knew. She held her palms against his chest, feeling as if she were going to pass out.

Then the fool did something she never expected. He pressed his lips up against hers in a kiss! What was he doing? She was dying and couldn’t breathe, and all he could think about was lust? Then she quickly changed her opinion of him when she felt him blowing the breath of life into her mouth. It cleared her airway and she gasped, pulling away, coughing and choking.

“Guid,” he said.

“Guid?” she asked, still coughing. “I am dyin’ and ye say guid?”

“If ye are coughin’ and talkin’ then ye arena dyin’, lass. I did the only thing I could to give ye air.”

“Och. I see,” she said, feeling suddenly foolish. This man, her enemy, just saved her life. “Why did ye help me?” she asked softly, needing to know.

“Ye are doin’ the same for me, so I thought it was only fair.”

“But ye commanded me to help ye. Ye didna have to do anythin’ to stop me from dyin’. We’re enemies”

“I suppose ye’re right.” He shrugged and winced when he moved his hurt shoulder. “But I canna stand by and watch a bonnie lassie in need without doin’ somethin’ about it. Even if she is my enemy.” He sat down on a rock and let out another moan.

“Bonnie?” She peeked out from the corners of her eyes as she stood over him and applied an herbal ointment to his wound. His head turned and their gazes met. The connection between them made her momentarily forget that she was staring into the face of a cold-hearted killer. There, in the depths of his beautiful, bright blue eyes, she saw concern and kindness, not hatred and revenge at all.

“Aye, lass. Ye are very bonnie,” he whispered, reaching up gently to caress a lock of her hair. Then his gaze traveled over to her mouth. He leaned forward, pulling her closer, and brought his lips to meet hers once again.

Phoebe hesitated and her body stiffened. He must have seen her uncertainty because of what he said next.

“Close yer eyes, lass. Forget for a moment that we are enemies. Instead, try to pretend that I am yer lover.”

She should have walked away at hearing that, or perhaps slapped him for such a vulgar, brash suggestion. But she didn’t. Something about this man and the situation made her stay.

Standing there, she waited for what would happen next. Her eyes closed as he gently cradled her chin with his large hand, bringing his mouth to hers. But this time, he wasn’t blowing air into her lungs and it had naught to do with saving her life. This was a kiss a man would give his lover. It was filled with passion! She liked it. It made her go weak in the knees, and she prayed that she wouldn’t fall at his feet. Never had she been kissed by a man this way. Actually, she’d never even been kissed by a man at all. Just one touch of his soft lips to hers and it seemed as if she could feel all his emotions running through her at once. While it excited her, it also scared her out of her mind.

Hawke was a big, rugged Highlander who feared nothing. He could force himself on her right there in the woods, or even snap her neck with one huge hand if he wanted to. Suddenly, she felt scared.