Read Online How to Abduct a Highland Lord by Karen Hawkins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karen Hawkins
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Regency, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, England - Social Life and Customs - 19th Century, Scotland - Social life and customs - 19th century, Clans - Scotland
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again. “Look, Jack—”
“If I am to do this, then it will be onmy terms.”
He gave her no choice. She only wished he would not argue with her while he was naked; it was difficult to make a coherent point with such a distraction. “What are your terms?”
He leaned forward. “When you are in my home, you will stay in my bed.”
She couldn’t swallow. Or breathe. Or even make a sound. She could only nod.
“Furthermore,” he continued, his gaze traveling down to her lips, “you will do so with appropriate enthusiasm.”
She found her voice. “You would have me pretend to feel something I do not?”
His hand cupped her breast, and Fiona jerked, her skin aflame, her breathing ragged as pure lust shot through her.
He smiled, a satisfied look on his face. “You won’t have to pretend with me, love.”
Fiona wished she could leave, run away as fast as she could and never look back. But if she returned home without Jack, her brothers would be furious. She would never make them believe that she’d walked away of her own free will; they’d think Jack had left her, which would be an unforgivable insult.
She took a deep breath. “Very well. You are right that we cannot do this halfway. We—we must do this with ‘enthusiasm.’”
The fire crackled and popped. Jack cupped her chin in his large, warm hand and turned her face to his. She almost gasped at the burning expression in his eyes; if she was aflame, he was afire. He wanted her, desired her passionately.
Fiona’s body quivered with answered need.
He slowly lowered his lips to hers, and Fiona was lost in a flood of heat and sensation. Without another thought, she gave herself over to the passion that Jack’s kiss stirred.
He felt her body soften into his, and he slid his hands up and down her body, cupping her to him, pressing his manhood to her.
He burned with lust and passion, seasoned with the faintest hint of anger. Distasteful as it was, marriage was now his lot in life. But if he had to be married, he might as well get something from it.
He ran his hand down her back to her hip, then her thigh. She moved restlessly, pressing against him, her mouth seeking his with increasing desperation. “Is this what you want?” he murmured against her lips. He pressed his hand between her thighs. “Or this?”
She moaned, shuddering with need, and Jack’s body tightened in response. He wanted her so badly, ached with a lust that burned so hotly and so deeply, he feared it might destroy them both.
She was fumbling with her gown. “Let me,” he said, his voice thick even to his own ears.
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from their kiss. He quickly undid the remaining ties. He wanted to see her naked, her hair spread about her, her arms and legs open for him—him and no one else.
The thought gave him pause. He was not given to possessiveness; his liaisons were entertainments to be taken as they came, enjoyed, and then left. The freedom of the encounters gave spice to it all.
But with Fiona, it was different. Perhaps it was because she was the only woman he’d ever lost before he’d tired of her. Perhaps it was because she was the only woman who’d ever sent him away. Or perhaps it was something as simple as ownership. She was hiswife. The word sent a possessive thrill through him. His chest expanded at the thought, his body quickening.
The last tie of her gown came free.
With a simple tug at her neckline, Fiona loosened her gown, pushed it wide, and it slid down to her waist, a discarded froth of lace and silk and innocence. She shimmied a bit, kicking away the sheets as she pulled the gown free, and tossed it off the bed.
All she wore was a thin chemise, and the rosebud circles of her breasts pressed wantonly against the material and made his mouth water.
She sat upright and
“If I am to do this, then it will be onmy terms.”
He gave her no choice. She only wished he would not argue with her while he was naked; it was difficult to make a coherent point with such a distraction. “What are your terms?”
He leaned forward. “When you are in my home, you will stay in my bed.”
She couldn’t swallow. Or breathe. Or even make a sound. She could only nod.
“Furthermore,” he continued, his gaze traveling down to her lips, “you will do so with appropriate enthusiasm.”
She found her voice. “You would have me pretend to feel something I do not?”
His hand cupped her breast, and Fiona jerked, her skin aflame, her breathing ragged as pure lust shot through her.
He smiled, a satisfied look on his face. “You won’t have to pretend with me, love.”
Fiona wished she could leave, run away as fast as she could and never look back. But if she returned home without Jack, her brothers would be furious. She would never make them believe that she’d walked away of her own free will; they’d think Jack had left her, which would be an unforgivable insult.
She took a deep breath. “Very well. You are right that we cannot do this halfway. We—we must do this with ‘enthusiasm.’”
The fire crackled and popped. Jack cupped her chin in his large, warm hand and turned her face to his. She almost gasped at the burning expression in his eyes; if she was aflame, he was afire. He wanted her, desired her passionately.
Fiona’s body quivered with answered need.
He slowly lowered his lips to hers, and Fiona was lost in a flood of heat and sensation. Without another thought, she gave herself over to the passion that Jack’s kiss stirred.
He felt her body soften into his, and he slid his hands up and down her body, cupping her to him, pressing his manhood to her.
He burned with lust and passion, seasoned with the faintest hint of anger. Distasteful as it was, marriage was now his lot in life. But if he had to be married, he might as well get something from it.
He ran his hand down her back to her hip, then her thigh. She moved restlessly, pressing against him, her mouth seeking his with increasing desperation. “Is this what you want?” he murmured against her lips. He pressed his hand between her thighs. “Or this?”
She moaned, shuddering with need, and Jack’s body tightened in response. He wanted her so badly, ached with a lust that burned so hotly and so deeply, he feared it might destroy them both.
She was fumbling with her gown. “Let me,” he said, his voice thick even to his own ears.
She nodded, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from their kiss. He quickly undid the remaining ties. He wanted to see her naked, her hair spread about her, her arms and legs open for him—him and no one else.
The thought gave him pause. He was not given to possessiveness; his liaisons were entertainments to be taken as they came, enjoyed, and then left. The freedom of the encounters gave spice to it all.
But with Fiona, it was different. Perhaps it was because she was the only woman he’d ever lost before he’d tired of her. Perhaps it was because she was the only woman who’d ever sent him away. Or perhaps it was something as simple as ownership. She was hiswife. The word sent a possessive thrill through him. His chest expanded at the thought, his body quickening.
The last tie of her gown came free.
With a simple tug at her neckline, Fiona loosened her gown, pushed it wide, and it slid down to her waist, a discarded froth of lace and silk and innocence. She shimmied a bit, kicking away the sheets as she pulled the gown free, and tossed it off the bed.
All she wore was a thin chemise, and the rosebud circles of her breasts pressed wantonly against the material and made his mouth water.
She sat upright and
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