Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) Read Online Free Page B

words.
    Though he hoped with all his misguided soul that she did not know it.
    "I always imagined you with someone different," he said with forced civility.
    "Oh?"
    "Aye. Someone who could breathe and talk at the same time," he said.
    "And this from a thief who would wear a plaid in Rainich."
    "And why should I not?" he asked.
    "Because twill give them only one more reason to trounce you, and you very well know it," she snapped.
    Ah, yes. Maybe that was the third reason to wear a plaid in England. But there were decided advantages to remembering one's place in life. He pulled his gaze from her face.
    "And that sporran," she added, scowling at the pouch strapped to his waist. Made of fine hide and decorated with long tassels of black horsehair, it was an ostentatious Gaelic display that hung nearly to his knees. "Must you always make a spectacle of yourself, Liam? Must you always wear the brightest plaid, the biggest sporran? Have you stolen so much coin that you need more space to tote it about?"
    "You being Scots yourself and you don't know the true purpose of the sporran? Tis not the wealth it is there to hide, tis the wick." She had the tendency to bring out the devil in him, though her cousin, Shona, had always said it was not necessarily a difficult task. "And hence..."—he swept his hand downward to display his sporran's unusual proportions and grinned—"its ponderous size."
    She stared at him, her eyes expressionless. "Take off your tunic," she ordered.
    Wasn't she even shocked by his language? She was a lady! Naive, soft, delicate. And experienced? The possibility sent tiny shards of pain ripping through him. "I know you are tempted, lass," he said, scowling at her. "But I assure you, I do not need..." he began.
    She stepped forward, her lips pursed, her movements quick as they touched the strip of leather that laced up his tunic at the neck. Her fingers brushed his throat. Liam gritted his teeth against the slash of feelings that sliced him from neck to groin. "I'll do it," he said and swept her hands aside.
    She stepped slowly back. Forcing his fingers to do his bidding, Liam unfastened his pewter brooch and pulled the ends of the shirt from beneath his plaid. Shards of pain splintering off in every direction.
    "Lift your arms." It was an order, given from a lady to a subject.
    If he had the wits of a turnip, he would refuse, but she was too close for him to muster any manly fortitude.
    He lifted his arms with an effort. Grasping the hem of his tunic, she eased it upward. Her knuckles skimmed his ribs, his chest then paused. Her gaze, bright as liquid fire, caught his. Memories of forbidden dreams leapt in Liam's mind. Dreams of creamy skin, shivery caresses, the sigh of his name from her sweet lips.
    But reality was only a moment behind. Crossing his arms against his chest, he knocked her hands aside, grabbed the tunic and tore it over his head, then yanked his arms down to a crashing cord of satisfying pain.
    She had already moved away to crouch by the fire.
    Silence settled in. His gut loosened enough to allow him to breathe.
    "Surely your..." For a moment he could find no acceptable words to call the man she apparently intended to marry, but he reprimanded himself as a thousand kinds of fool and continued. "Surely your lover would take offense if he knew of this."
    "Of what?"
    "Of..." Liam gestured breathlessly toward his own naked chest, but she shrugged after the briefest glance, as if there was nothing there of even the mildest interest. But it had not always been such. God, no. He could remember a time... He shut off the thoughts in wild panic. "Take offense to this," he said hoarsely. "You and I."
    "My laird knows I am called to heal. He doesn't resent that."
    "Truly?" He snorted. "How gallant of him."
    "Aye."
    "Tis not like the English to be so noble."
    "I did not say he was English. Sit down."
    He remained as he was. "A lowlander then. I wouldn't have thought your father would allow it."
    "Sit," she said