Read Online Seduced by the Highlander by Julianne MacLean - Free Book Online Page A

sounds she was making. His ears were attuned to everything—the bed creaking under her weight, her soft breathing, the rustle of her skirts. With an exhausted sigh, she removed a shoe, dropped it onto the floor with a careless thunk, then removed the other one.
    “I was never so happy to see a bed.” She flopped backwards onto it.
    He did not share her joy, however, for it had been ages since he was alone in a bedchamber with a woman. And with this particular one, who was so bewitching to him in every way, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to make it through the night without doing what he’d promised not to do.
    *   *   *
     
    Within minutes, Lachlan had an impressive fire blazing in the hearth. He dragged a chair across the floor for Catherine.
    “Come and sit closer,” he said. “Dry your clothes.”
    Pulling another chair forward for himself, he sat down and held his hands out to warm them.
    Catherine watched him for a breathless moment, wishing he were not so … wet. His long hair gleamed strikingly in the amber firelight, and his shirt was clinging to his massive arms and shoulders, his kilt hugging his strong, muscular thighs. Ah, sweet Lord, he was a beautiful thing to behold when he was so shiny, dripping, and drenched.
    He leaned back and propped both booted feet up on the opposite chair, which he had pulled forward for her. With a sigh, he crossed those big, sinewy legs at the ankles.
    For the life of her, Catherine could not seem to tear her gaze away from the bulky plaid sticking to his lap, and his worn leather sporran, which rested on certain parts of his anatomy she was not meant to think about. It was all very disconcerting, and for the first time she truly wished she could lift that disagreeable curse, for what an absolute waste of manhood it was—for a man like him to be celibate.
    Imagine the beautiful children he could sire.
    Tipping his head back, he ran his hands over his face and yawned loudly with exhaustion. Or perhaps it was boredom. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She stared at him for a long moment, then finally shook herself out of her stupor.
    Gathering her heavy skirts in her fists, she rose from the bed. “When you said to come closer, I hope you meant closer to the fire, and not closer to you. ”
    She pushed the toe of his boot with her hand, forcing him to lift his feet off her chair.
    “Why? Are you worried you won’t be able to resist my deadly charms? Deadlier than ever,” he added, “thanks to you.”
    She sat down. “No, I am not worried, because I do not find you charming at all. Not in the least.”
    It was a complete lie, of course. Everything about him fascinated her. Even when she was quivering with fear.
    Especially then.
    “You should be thankful,” he said, lounging back comfortably, locking his hands together behind his head and making her wonder if he was some sort of dubious archangel of a man, for he intrigued her so.
    “Thankful for what?”
    “For that promise I made in the library, when I agreed not to touch you. Otherwise, I’d be removing your gown right now, one piece at a time— verra slowly—and you’d be whimpering with ecstasy and delight, begging me to undress you faster, and trying like hell to figure out a way to lift that curse.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re that confident?”
    “Aye.”
    She sat forward. “But why would you even want to make me whimper with ecstasy? You despise me. Why not just force yourself on me, like you tried to do back at Drumloch?”
    The fire danced and snapped in the grate, illuminating the golden clarity of his skin, reflecting the sparks of gold in his eyes. He leaned forward as well, so their faces were very close, almost touching, and her heart began to race with anticipation.
    “Would you really like me to answer that?”
    He asked the question with a teasing undercurrent of eroticism that sent wild vibrations through her body.
    A knock sounded at the door just