Page 16 of A Hot Scot for Christmas
Sunlight burst behind his cocked hat. She found shade leaning into him. A vibrant picture came to mind—the Highlander atop a mountain, his Black Watch kilt blowing in the wind, and his arm protecting her.
No storm could knock them down.
Looking into his eyes, she asked, “Tell me, Mr. MacLeod, why are you concerned about the state of my soul?”
He was a fortress of shelter and shadows, taking his time before answering her. It did him credit to not take her question lightly. He held her and searched the ward until he landed on his answer.
“For the same reason that I dressed like a monk and sneaked into the Abbey of Saint Wandrille in France.”
“You did that?” Him dressed as a monk was astonishing. “It sounds thrilling, even perilous, but I fail to see the connection.”
“I did it was because it was a challenge.” His brows twitched. “Youare a challenge.”
Oh, she was done for.
Laughter flirted with his mouth, showing a smattering of white whiskers among reds and browns. Those vulnerable whiskers had such power over her. She breathed in deep, smelling hay’s sweetness on his great coat. Hay from her barn.
“Challenges are meant to be breached,” she said.
His mouth hooked sideways. “Breaching?”
She wanted to laugh.
He was growing more intent. “If work was out of the question, what would you do if you had a day to be frivolous?”
Her thumbs traced the insides of his elbows covered by thick wool. The intense draw was his magnetism. He was leaving, though. She ought to let him go, yet Mr. MacLeod was the one holding her captive by the waist.
Perhaps he wasn’t the proverbial rolling stone.
She could think of only one way to test that thought.
“Perhaps I’d spend the day kissing you.”
Now it was Mr. MacLeod’s turn to blink in surprise, which he did until his grin spread so wide lines fanned the outer corners of his eyes.
“You’re not the sort of woman to do that.”
“You wanted to know my thoughts, didn’t you?” She pushed up on her toes and made her point. “Though kissing you would never be frivolous. Exciting, vigorous…” She heard her voice dip “…seductive. But never frivolous.”
His unwavering stare arrowed her. Hard, blue, and ferocious.
Oh, this was bad. She’d taken their flirtation too far and vexed him.
Her heels hit the ground. “Forgive me. I—”
His mouth met hers, hot and stunning.
She froze, shocked. Little by little, her body responded as if his kiss chipped away pieces of ice off her person.
The tingle dogging her after he’d touched her ear at breakfast flared insidiously. Scorching her. Spiking her pulse, stealing her breath. She tried to contain her excitement. But it was like trying to grasp a shooting star, this sparkling wonder of a kiss.
Her eyes closed, and he delivered another. More thoughtful this time. The Highlander was artful and seductive, his kiss gently done. His mouth moved over hers. Whiskers tickled her cheek, but their mouths—
By all that was holy, she would never be the same.
For a man of his size, he’d mastered sweet, teasing kisses.
Their noses brushed. They kissed again, a tender melting of lips. A wonder of sensations unfolded, bringing a message, whether the Highlander wanted to say it or not.
