Highland Barbarian Part 9

Without realizing it he continued holding her hand. So small. So soft. How could one small hand hold his life in it? The anger inside him merged with other, newer emotions. Instantly his touch gentled.

"Such lovely bait. How can Gareth MacKenzie resist?"

She saw the look that came into his eyes and felt a new terror grip her. She was too vulnerable. He was too dangerous.

"As you said, Gareth has no feeling for me. He will not be ensnared in your trap."

His voice was suddenly harsh.

"I think you place too little value on yourself, woman. There are not many men who could turn away from your obvious charms."

Her heart leaped to her throat. Aye, he was far too dangerous.

He lowered his face until their lips were inches apart. She felt the heat of his breath as it mingled with hers.

d.a.m.n Holden Mackay, he thought. He had planted a seed in Brice's mind this night. And now, with the woman so near, the thoughts expressed by Holden were taking hold of Brice's will.

"I fear I shall have to sample the bait."

"Nay." She tried to pull away but was held fast.

His lips brushed hers.

She felt the first rush of heat and turned her head, avoiding the lure of his lips.

With a muttered oath he placed a hand on either side of her head, holding it firmly as he brought his mouth over hers.

In that first instant he felt a jolt, like a blow to the midsection.

Her lips trembled and he knew that she felt it, too.

He was so startled by his reaction he lifted his head a moment, staring deeply into her eyes. Wide, s.h.i.+mmering pools of green stared back at him. He could read surprise there. And innocence.

Innocence. G.o.d in heaven. A virgin?

But she had been betrothed. Could it be that she and Desmond MacKenzie had never known each other?

He studied her face, mesmerized by her beauty. Beneath the beauty, beneath the innocence, he could read something more. There was fire there. He was nearly consumed by the heat.

Slowly, seductively, he touched his lips to hers and thrilled to the feelings that poured between them. With a sigh he took the kiss deeper, savoring all the sweetness, all the innocence he could taste.

Meredith had been kissed before. There had been lads waiting to steal a kiss along a darkened lane. There had been wedding banquets, where the young people were allowed to taste the brew. Such things often led to the first stirrings of youthful desire. She had once been kissed by Gareth MacKenzie. It had frightened and repulsed her. She had sensed something dark and unsavory in Gareth's manner. From that moment on she had avoided him. She had kissed his brother, Desmond.

But they had both been children and the kiss had been no more than a touching of lips to lips.

But this. This was something so new, so breathtakingly sensual, she could hardly contain her heart. It was hammering so painfully in her chest she was certain he could hear the sound.

The hands that cupped her face were rough and callused, and strong enough to break her in two. Yet their touch was so unexpectedly gentle, she felt herself melting into him.

Brice felt the gradual change in her as he lingered over her lips.

Though she was still tense and frightened, she was responding, like a woman awakening from a deep sleep.

If he held her here long enough, she would be his.

The thought startled him. And disturbed him. If he was right, she had never been with a man. He had not expected this. Had not expected one so innocent. Had not expected to want her. It complicated matters. He knew he had to end it.

Still he lingered for a moment longer, unwilling to break the contact.

Never had he felt such a desire to lie with a woman and take all she had to give.

The need to take became a need to give. Unless he ended this now, he could very well find the situation out of control and not at all to his liking. It had never been his way to take a virgin.

He lifted his head and drew back.

Meredith lay very still, watching him. Her breathing was ragged, her heartbeat erratic.

"A very nice sample," he whispered.

"May you be d.a.m.ned to h.e.l.l."

He smiled, but the feeling curling in the pit of his stomach was still there, still prodding him to take what he had no right to.

He thrust her away from him.

"Go to sleep." His voice was rougher than he'd intended.

He saw the look that came into her eyes. Relief. Grat.i.tude. She had thought she'd have to fight him.

"I'll not sleep in the same bed with you."

He gave a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Then sleep on the floor.

But beware the dogs."

He pulled the furs over himself and rolled away from her. His pulse beat was as wild as if he' d just led a charge of brigands through the Highlands. His hands, he noted, were certainly not steady enough to hold a broadsword.

Meredith rolled away, curling herself into a tight little ball at the edge of the mattress. What choice had she been given? The floor or the bed--with him in it. But then what had she expected from a lout like Brice Campbell?

She would never be able to sleep in the same bed with this brute. If she dared to fall asleep, he might take advantage of her weakness.

As her eyes grew heavy she was forced to admit that it was not she who had ended the kiss but Brice Campbell. If he had wanted to take advantage of her, she would have been powerless to stop him.

Powerless. The feeling enraged her. She had been powerless to refuse the marriage offer between herself and Desmond, despite the fact that she had not loved him. And now she was once again powerless to escape this barbarian who held her prisoner in his Highlands.

She would be powerless no more.