Page 16 of Laird Of Her Heart

People from this century were not very open-minded about the prospect of time travel.

Or educated women. Who knew things.

Like the fact that at some point in the near future, he and most of his men would be murdered. And later in the fall, a flood would take out all their crops. Most of the clan would starve to death when the snows came.

1291 had been a banner year for the enemies of the Macintoshes.

It was a pity she couldn’t warn him.

But even if she could—and he did not burn her at the stake—he wouldn’t believe her.

Hell, she wouldn’t believe her.

She stilled as his palm flattened over her belly…and then began to rove. He made a sound, something like a murmur. It rumbled through her ear. He edged closer, curling his body against hers. And shit.

That hardness against her thigh?

Unmistakable.

She nearly came out of her skin as his breath brushed her neck, and then his lips.

Jesus, God, they were warm and damp and sent skitters of delight through her body. Who would have suspected that such a simple touch could set her on fire? He opened his mouth and suckled her there and then his kiss walked up her neck to her lobe. A nibble there made her gasp. She tightened her hands into fists to keep from grabbing him—even though there was no fear of that, as they were locked above her head.

When his hand skated upward and cupped her breast, when his thumb scudded over her hard nipple, she moaned aloud.

He lifted his head. Their gazes clashed. He stared at her for a long moment, motionless and silent. Though his thumb did continue a tormenting scrape over her swelling nub.

A message passed between them. She was not sure what it was or what it meant, but something in her shifted. It was as though a curtain had been drawn away.

She didn’t know why she’d been brought here, but she was a firm believer in destiny. Deep in her heart, she believed she’d been brought here—for whatever reason—to meet him.

And she wanted him. With more passion and ferocity and anguish than she’d ever felt for any man.

It would be a sin not to take advantage of this opportunity to finally taste him.

She would never forgive herself if she missed out.

So when his head descended, and his mouth neared hers…she didn’t turn away. She met her destiny head on.

CHAPTER FOUR

She was sweet, so sweet. Her mouth was fresh and she tasted like spring. Beyond that, she shocked him with her response to his kiss. She rose up to it. Met it. Matched him kiss for kiss.

He’d been caught unawares, having fallen asleep and dreamed of her, and then awoken to find her in his arms, warm against him. His desire had been riding high and he was only incited to further madness by her scent, her curves, her murmurs.

He wanted her. Wanted to take her here and now.

Something within him, some maddened beast, demanded he do just that. She was his prisoner. He had the right.

Another voice, one of irritating reason, argued against such folly. And not just because she was possibly an enemy trying to cozen him and seduce him, and weaken his guard against her—though there was that. But because he did not want to take her against her will. While she was bound and helpless.

Something deep within him railed at the prospect. He wanted her warm and willing in his arms.

Although she did not seem unwilling.

Ah, that was a dangerous thought, was it not?

She arched up into his kiss, nudging her tongue between his lips and his thoughts flew.