Read Online Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lois Greiman
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eyes as wide as a promise.
"I need you, Liam," she whispered.
He was dreaming again, had slipped into unconsciousness, he thought. But in a moment, she continued.
"I have no time to waste. On the morrow I must be traveling. I must not fail! No matter if we cannot find my guards or our horses or our supplies. Somehow I must see my way through. But I cannot do it alone. I need your help."
He blinked, trying to catch up to her thoughts and lose his foolish dreams. "With what?" he rasped.
"Please," she pleaded. "I need you healthy and hale. I must see to your wounds. Let me take off your clothes."
There was probably any number of things a man could say in this position, Liam thought. He could refuse to comply unless she told him why she was so desperate to get to her fiance. He could insist that she take off her clothes first. He could refuse to take them off at all unless she gave herself to him.
That last one was particularly interesting, but made his heart do funny, twisty things in his chest.
Still, Liam did none of those things. Instead, he swallowed once and nodded.
She exhaled softly as if she'd been holding her breath, and then her hands moved again. He found he couldn't look. Instead, he stood like a statue, staring straight ahead, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
The belt proved to be tricky, the leather thick and difficult. She worked at it for a moment then dropped to her knees.
Liam tightened his jaw and concentrated on thoughts of her father. He was a big man. Big! And powerful—not just physically but politically. Twould be no great feat for him to see Liam eviscerated, decapitated, and emasculated.
Rachel leaned slightly closer. He felt her breath against the tense planes of his abdomen, felt her fingers brush his skin. That single, simple touch struck a fire where no fire should be lit. He opened his hand to reach for her.
Her mother! Lady Fiona's face flashed into Liam's mind. He yanked his hand back. Fiona was a healer, gentle, loving. Never for a moment had she dismissed him as a thieving bastard. Never for a moment had she treated him as less than an equal. Surely he owed her something for that.
He felt his belt ease open. Despite his certainty that it could not happen, sweat popped out on his forehead. Rachel's hands were gentle as she unwrapped his plaid. His breathing escalated. His hands shook.
He forced the thought of Shona in his mind. Shona, Rachel's cousin. Shona would never forgive him if he took advantage of this moment. She trusted him, maybe even loved him.
He calmed his breathing with an effort and tightened his hands into fists.
Rachel reached around him, her cheek nearly touching his crotch as she unwrapped the great length of his sodden plaid.
Liam held his breath, waiting and trying to pretend he was a eunuch. It didn't work. Because eunuchs didn't get erections. Erections that ached and throbbed and longed for the one haughty, witchy woman who had tormented him for— Sara! Rachel's other cousin. He loved Sara like a sister. She was as sweet as a lambkin, as gentle as a kitten, and she'd never, never understand if he lost his battle to lust and...
Rachel tugged again. The last layer of plaid slipped downward. His penis, thick and eager and turgid, sprang upward like a floating log.
For a moment, he felt her pause, but he dared not glance down. An eternity inched along, and finally he felt her move again. He tried to remember to breathe, and managed to step out when he felt his plaid brush his feet.
Silence filled the cave. Liam stared straight forward, his jaw set, his will as hard as other parts.
The fire crackled. Eternity stretched before them. He felt her hands on his thigh near his wound.
Her touch sparked off a million deadly desires, making his desire tighten so that it moved of its own accord.
He tried to think, to hold steady, to pretend she was old and ugly, or at least fat and crotchety.
Gripping his hands harder at his sides, he sent off a prayer
"I need you, Liam," she whispered.
He was dreaming again, had slipped into unconsciousness, he thought. But in a moment, she continued.
"I have no time to waste. On the morrow I must be traveling. I must not fail! No matter if we cannot find my guards or our horses or our supplies. Somehow I must see my way through. But I cannot do it alone. I need your help."
He blinked, trying to catch up to her thoughts and lose his foolish dreams. "With what?" he rasped.
"Please," she pleaded. "I need you healthy and hale. I must see to your wounds. Let me take off your clothes."
There was probably any number of things a man could say in this position, Liam thought. He could refuse to comply unless she told him why she was so desperate to get to her fiance. He could insist that she take off her clothes first. He could refuse to take them off at all unless she gave herself to him.
That last one was particularly interesting, but made his heart do funny, twisty things in his chest.
Still, Liam did none of those things. Instead, he swallowed once and nodded.
She exhaled softly as if she'd been holding her breath, and then her hands moved again. He found he couldn't look. Instead, he stood like a statue, staring straight ahead, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
The belt proved to be tricky, the leather thick and difficult. She worked at it for a moment then dropped to her knees.
Liam tightened his jaw and concentrated on thoughts of her father. He was a big man. Big! And powerful—not just physically but politically. Twould be no great feat for him to see Liam eviscerated, decapitated, and emasculated.
Rachel leaned slightly closer. He felt her breath against the tense planes of his abdomen, felt her fingers brush his skin. That single, simple touch struck a fire where no fire should be lit. He opened his hand to reach for her.
Her mother! Lady Fiona's face flashed into Liam's mind. He yanked his hand back. Fiona was a healer, gentle, loving. Never for a moment had she dismissed him as a thieving bastard. Never for a moment had she treated him as less than an equal. Surely he owed her something for that.
He felt his belt ease open. Despite his certainty that it could not happen, sweat popped out on his forehead. Rachel's hands were gentle as she unwrapped his plaid. His breathing escalated. His hands shook.
He forced the thought of Shona in his mind. Shona, Rachel's cousin. Shona would never forgive him if he took advantage of this moment. She trusted him, maybe even loved him.
He calmed his breathing with an effort and tightened his hands into fists.
Rachel reached around him, her cheek nearly touching his crotch as she unwrapped the great length of his sodden plaid.
Liam held his breath, waiting and trying to pretend he was a eunuch. It didn't work. Because eunuchs didn't get erections. Erections that ached and throbbed and longed for the one haughty, witchy woman who had tormented him for— Sara! Rachel's other cousin. He loved Sara like a sister. She was as sweet as a lambkin, as gentle as a kitten, and she'd never, never understand if he lost his battle to lust and...
Rachel tugged again. The last layer of plaid slipped downward. His penis, thick and eager and turgid, sprang upward like a floating log.
For a moment, he felt her pause, but he dared not glance down. An eternity inched along, and finally he felt her move again. He tried to remember to breathe, and managed to step out when he felt his plaid brush his feet.
Silence filled the cave. Liam stared straight forward, his jaw set, his will as hard as other parts.
The fire crackled. Eternity stretched before them. He felt her hands on his thigh near his wound.
Her touch sparked off a million deadly desires, making his desire tighten so that it moved of its own accord.
He tried to think, to hold steady, to pretend she was old and ugly, or at least fat and crotchety.
Gripping his hands harder at his sides, he sent off a prayer
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