Page 22 of The Pirate Laird's Hostage

Her first instinct was to push him away as his full lips slid over her own again, but Morna could only sink into the delicious thrill of it. Will’s kiss was hard, demanding, and when she did not resist, his fingers slid up into her hair, down her back, arms at her waist, pulling her in close. His manhood, hard and eager, pressed against her stomach. The sensible part of her screamed ‘stop this’, but the wicked core of her heart made Morna kiss him back, hard, and meet his questing tongue with her own.

‘You taste even sweeter than I imagined,’ Will growled against her mouth between kisses, his body all muscle and strength, and big, so big pressed close to hers. He took her lower lip in his teeth and tugged and sucked at it with shocking intimacy. Heat flooded Morna’s loins, her face, her belly. She grabbed onto his hair and dug her nails in, and he became more aroused. They staggered slightly and came up against the side of a table.

Morna had let Owen kiss her, many times, and she had welcomed it, but his kiss had been careful, controlled, and she had played at ardour in return instead of really feeling it. But this villain’s mouth on her made her feel as if she had no will of her own. There was only surrender to some terrible animal need. Her face burned with shame, for if he threw her down on that table and took her there, she felt she might not be able to resist. A day ago, she had been staring death in the face, but now, she had never felt so alive.

She wanted William Bain in a feral kind of way, in a way she could never voice aloud. It was as if the Devil had her in his grip and was leading her away from the light, and into darkness, but what a delicious darkness it was.

Will’s hands started to slide over her body, lifting her dress, his hand, warm and rough as it slid up her leg.

Morna leapt back from him like a scalded cat. For a moment she thought he was going to make a grab for her, but he did not, instead, Will held her eyes with his, chest heaving up and down and frustration warring with laughter on his face.

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘You may never do that to me again.’

‘You seemed to like it,’ he smiled, ‘and I certainly did.’

‘Enjoy your stolen kiss, for it is the last you will get from me.’

‘I didn’t feel stolen, and I ask leave of no man when I take what I want.’

‘Or woman,’ said Morna defiantly.

‘Depends on the woman,’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders as shame rushed through her.

Morna turned and walked away from him as quickly as she could.

Will called after her. ‘Don’t you dare walk away from me after a kiss like that, Morna Buchanan.’ There was laughter in his voice.

‘Don’t you dare lock me up again,’ she shouted back over her shoulder.

‘I’ll do with you as I see fit, woman.’

Morna ignored him and kept on going, every nerve in her body screaming at her to run, thinking any moment she would hear his footsteps in pursuit, his hands grabbing her, his mouth on hers again.

Once she was out of the hall, she ran as fast as she could back to her bedchamber and bolted the door. It took an age for her breathing to slow. She must be cleverer than this. She had played with men’s admiration before, but here, in this friendless place, it was dangerous. She was a long way from home with no protection, save for Will.

Now Morna was not entirely sure if she was safe around him, and she would wager all that her virtue was not.

Chapter Eight

Will surveyed the crowded hall with impatience. Everyone was here for this feast save the one person he wanted to see. He downed cup after cup of ale, wrestling with his frustration. It had been five days since he had kissed Morna Buchanan and she had been avoiding him. Banging on her chamber door got no response, so he had not been able to put right his mistake. She steadfastly refused to talk to him save to demand an answer, through the oak, as to when her brothers would receive word and send for her. Will had been left with that meagre response or her just shouting at him to go away.

Were it anyone else he would have broken the door down with an axe to get his own way, but something about this fierce, proud girl had made him stay his hand. He was, after all, completely and utterly in the wrong. Kissing her had been a delicious impulse to which he had succumbed all too easily, and, while he did not regret his stolen pleasure, he did regret giving her cause for offence or, worse, a reason to fear him.

To make matters worse, he had been forced to go to sea when an alarming report had reached him that ships had been sighted along the northern coves. The Bains had feared that it was the Cranstouns, out to get revenge for the loss of their ship and men. Nought had come of his voyage, and he had been restless the whole time, keen to get back to his bonnie guest, knowing full well that Drostan would have been insinuating himself into Morna’s good graces in his absence.

Will shot an evil look at his cousin. Of course, she would like him, idiot that he was, so much closer in age to Morna and bleating his woes for her to pity. The lad was despondent tonight, sulking into his ale but then he looked across the hall and beamed. Morna had entered, and a hushed silence followed her progress to the table where Will sat waiting, clenching his ale cup to the point of shattering it. His clansmen all turned curious eyes to him to gauge his reaction and, to his left, Waldrick’s stare was unnerving.

Will feigned nonchalance as he leapt up and drew out a chair for his guest. He noticed that Morna gave Drostan a beaming smile and it was returned tenfold by the insolent wretch. She had absolutely none for him, of course, which irked him greatly.

‘So kind of you to join us, Lady Buchanan,’ he said to Morna with mock chivalry.

‘I was forced to come, for Braya told me she would be whipped if she did not bring me to sup with you,’ she said.

‘Braya exaggerates, Morna. The woman has no fear of me. She may be withered, but she has the strength of an ox. Why, I swear the crone could best me in a wrestling match if she wanted to or strangle me in my sleep if I raised her ire.’

Will poured Morna some ale, and she grabbed it and gulped it down in one go, slamming the cup back onto the table. ‘So, Laird Bain, tell me why I am summoned to this feast. So that you can parade me in front of your clansmen and play the honourable rescuer, or do you seek another opportunity to damage my honour?’

‘The way you returned my kiss makes me think you have no more honour than I do, and that is no bad thing.’

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