Nicole Locke - Her Enemy Highlander

The sharp jab of pain in her back and his gentle oath broke their contact, pulling her back to reality. And the reality was more painful than the fireplace, mortifying even.

She was kissing a man. A naked drunk man she didn’t know! Her eyes flitted from the door to the open shutters and back again. She looked anywhere but towards him. He had regained his balance, but his oath made her tingle and reel almost more than his kisses.

The room was dark. That fact was important, but she couldn’t remember why. The dagger!

He crooked a finger under her chin. ‘There now, where did you go?’ he teased.

His head was tilted down to catch her gaze. His eyes were still dark with desire, but amusement made them sparkle. He was pure masculine temptation and completely focused on her. What was she doing?

She had to make a run for it, but it wouldn’t be easy. He was a large man with a sword. There would be no reasoning with him. The only advantage she had was surprise and his nakedness. Her eyes shifted to the door again.

His eyes narrowed and he straightened cautiously. ‘You’re not going away...now are you, lass?’

‘There’s been a mistake,’ she said, her voice unsteady, just like her thoughts. ‘I’m...in the wrong room.’

Though he didn’t move any closer to her, and his caress on her neck was light, she wasn’t free of him.

‘There’s been nae mistake. You came to my room. You let me kiss you.’ His fingers made gentle circles, skimming down her neck to her shoulders and back up. ‘And before I was clumsy, you wanted me to kiss you...more.’

So true. All so confusingly true, but she needed the dagger, not this man who caused her to want to go and stay at the same time. How was this possible? How could she be here like this?

‘I mean nae harm,’ she said, willing her heart to stop fluttering inside her chest so she could concentrate. She was Buchanan, lying was her greatest skill. But she’d never be convincing if she was trembling with this need .

‘I have to go,’ she continued, pleased her voice was growing steady. ‘My friend will be looking for me.’

‘A friend?’ He snatched his hand away and his brows drew together. ‘A male friend?’ The tempting mouth turned fierce. The change was so sudden it would have been comical, if not for the fact he looked a bit frightening.

‘You’re here with a friend ?’ he said, the last word a growl. ‘My brother did not send you to me?’

There could be only one reason his brother would send a woman to his bedroom. If she’d had any modesty left, she would have blushed with embarrassment, not with desire as she thought of their kiss.

Shaking her head to dispel the images, she replied, ‘Nae, I doona know your brother.’

He pursed his lips. ‘A neglect of my brother and of mine. If I had seen you serving downstairs, I would have stopped my drinking to be with you. Do you belong to your friend for tonight only?’

‘Nae! I just need—’

He grew angrier. ‘You belong to him for life? You are married!’

Her mistakes just got worse and worse! She was either a whore, a cheating wife or she could tell him she was a thief. He now stood too close for her to escape or to think clearly.

‘Nae, nae,’ Mairead said. ‘I am not married. You doona understand. I entered this room by mistake.’

A wolfish grin replaced his frown, but it did not erase the traces of anger furrowing his brow. It was as if he was angry, frustrated and filled with some fierce determination all at the same time.

‘I may be slowed by drink, lass. But there is nae mistake you entered my room. You have been conjured by my very dreams.’

Her gestures were restricted by his presence looming over her. ‘I will blame it on the drink, but you are not getting my meaning. I’m not supposed to be here. I didn’t mean to kiss you. You must let me go.’

He shook his head as if he just didn’t understand. ‘It was my clumsiness startling you. Please forgive me.’

Inclining his head, he continued, ‘My name is Caird. I’m here celebrating my sister’s wedding you see, and I’ve done a bit too much of that celebrating. It’s made me clumsy on my feet, and in my manners.’

He smiled. ‘Or maybe I’m clumsy because a bonnie lass...with curly hair...entered my room. But I promise if you lie with me on that there bed, I won’t be a clumsy lover.’

With the tips of his fingers, he started caressing her skin again. Behind her ear, down the cords of her neck, then across her shoulder, then up again to repeat.

Caird. He had a name. Not so much a stranger any more and his fingertips were doing strange things to her again.

‘If you lie with me, I promise to be the most skilled lover who has ever taken you.’ His voice was a low purr of pleasure. ‘My lovemaking won’t be fast. Urgent, aye. But I’ll take my time with you, lass. I’ll make sure my body moulds to yours so you won’t feel the chill of the night’s air.’

She could feel the roughened surface of his fingers, the heat from the palm of his hand. She felt naked under his gaze.

‘My hands will caress you. With heat, my tongue will taste your breasts. Ah, to see them, to feel how they’ll tighten.’

His words seared through her. She should have been shocked or at least offended by his intimate words. But instead she was captivated. Enticed.

‘I’ll make you crave my hands and my mouth as I stroke across your stomach.’ He flattened his hand until his entire palm slid low at the base of her throat. ‘Your legs will spread and my mouth and hands will move lower still.’

He must have loosened her ties or her thin gown was no barrier to his ministrations. He was pushing her gown down from her shoulders. The bodice loosened above her breasts and the sensation of the air’s coolness was nothing in comparison to the heat of his hands. She parted her lips to let in more air and didn’t mistake the look of triumph in his eyes.

What was she doing?

‘Nae!’ Swiping her arms to break his contact, she ran to the door and wrenched it open.

Chapter Three

Blindly, Mairead entered the hall and rammed into a man heading towards the stairs. The impact knocked the wind from her and threw her back against the wall.

The man’s cloak loosened and his hood fell. She saw his face and the flash of a silver dagger tucked into a belt around his waist.

‘You!’ she cried.

Turning suddenly, the man took a moment to register who she was. His surprise held him still.

She found her tongue. ‘You thief! You murderer. Give me my—’

‘What’s going on here?’

Caird entered the hall. His loose tunic just covered him, but didn’t hide the sword he carried.

Mairead blinked. Had he grabbed the sword before or after she cried out?

The man adjusted his cloak. His eyes turned calculating. With Caird here, she didn’t know what to do. If she made accusations, the questions would be numerous. Kissing Caird didn’t mean she trusted him. The dagger was too valuable.

Even lunging for the dagger would be futile. She had no weapon with which to fight. At best she’d get hurt. At worst, killed.

Her plan of stealing the dagger and returning home was now impossible. Her hands were tied. By the look of the gleam in the man’s eyes, he had come to the same conclusion.

The man inclined his head; his lips a smirk. ‘Pardon, wench. I see you are already detained for this evening. I meant nae harm.’

‘What’s this!’ Caird indicated with his sword. ‘Is this your friend?’

Mairead didn’t even think. Caird seemed...uncontrolled. His stance widened, his tunic not covering the aggression and tightening of muscles in his legs. He looked like he was about to spring. Maybe she did have a weapon she could use. Her practised Buchanan lying would come in handy.