Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

“Don’t you ever knock?”

He’d never seen such a sight in all his days.

Contrary to her impudent accusation, he had called for admission before entering, uncertain of his welcome but wanting to see her.  To make peace.  When she hadn’t answered, he’d only meant to peek in quickly to see if she was still abed.

The sight of her posed like a statue awash in the morning sun had caught his attention and stolen his tongue.  What a body she had!  She was thin, aye, but her long limbs were sleekly muscled and firm.  Her hips weren’t broad but her waist dipped in alluringly. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her shift.  And the way she bent…!  Such a graceful, lissome creature.  He had been caught in silent admiration.

Until she had bent over, her bottom presented to him with no more to cover it than a babe’s swaddling.  Less even.  The thin fabric clung to her arse, stretching with her until he could see her flesh through it and all the secrets in the dark shadow of the valley between her thighs as well.  Then she arched her body against the floor and all his good sense had fled him.

He’d hardly recognized his own voice or recalled the words that escaped him.

Now she was watching him as she stood.  She did not bless him with the greeting he had been hoping for, in fact, she did not greet him at all.  Nor did she attempt to cover her near nudity as she drank deeply from a clear canteen of sorts.  But her eyes never left his as she swallowed again and again, her throat flexing with the effort.  At last she lowered the drink, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.  “Are you back for your armor?”

He should have waited for her to come to him.  He should have turned away.  Hell, he should have at least bathed first after working all night to fortify their defenses on the western flank but James did none of those things.  Instead, his feet propelled him by their own will across the room.

He came at her without hesitation, his eyes – hot and hungry – locked with hers.  Once he was within reach, his hands followed his eyes roamed hotly over her, from shoulder to hip and back up again.  Scarlett trembled at his touch, relief and yearning battling for control.  Laird framed her face in his hands, tilting her head back until she met his eyes.  “Is that all ye hae to say, lass?”

“Well, it would be rude of me to point out how badly you stink, wouldn’t it?”  Her voice was husky, breathless.  Quivering with emotion that he would have to be a fool not to notice.

His thumb brushed over her bottom lip and she parted them involuntarily.  “Did ye miss me, lass?”

Scarlett inhaled shakily.  “Hey, who left wh–” She gasped as his lips covered hers, swallowing the rest of her words.  His tongue plunged deeply, their tongues dueling and drawing a long, rumbling moan from deep within his chest. Then his body was wrapped around hers, pressing her against the center tent post.  The heat of his broad chest radiated through her thin chemise. Another groan shook him, the vibration chafing against her tender breasts through the gauzy linen.  They might well have been naked already.

Laird caught the front of the flimsy garment and ripped it away.  The tightly leashed violence of his passion was exhilarating, sparking the same urgency within her.  However much the intensity of their passion might scare her, it thrilled her just the same.  Feelings she had been denying all week, flooded her.  She arched against him with a silent cry as his lips closed over her nipple, suckling hard.  She tugged on his hair but he only sucked harder, holding her tighter and tighter still.   Her heart beat hard against her chest, clamoring to get out just as her breath was encaged within as well.   Her head swam, her vision blurred.

As if he knew just how far he had pushed her, Laird’s mouth trailed upward once more and her breath finally left her in a rush as she clung to him.

His fingers were on the move also, finding the way inside her panties and thrusting deeply into her.  Scarlett cried out, clinging helplessly to his shoulders as ecstasy ripped through her.  She couldn’t have cared less that he hadn’t bathed.

“Did ye miss me, lass?”

Lost in sensation, she could only shake her head against his sweaty throat.  His low growl rumbled against her.  Winding his fingers around the side of her panties, he tore them away. Her only pair of real underwear but Scarlett couldn’t mourn the loss.  They were gone for a good cause, she knew, when he brushed his kilt out of the way and lifted her legs around his hips.  His forceful entry should have torn her apart but Scarlett was more than ready for him, so ready she was nearly swept away by the possession.

“Did ye, lass?”

Laird pinned her against the post and flexed his hips, pumping deeper into her.  Her breath caught but she didn’t answer.

“Lass?”

He drove into her hard.  Again and again until Scarlett’s thighs were quivering around him. His fingers bit into her bottom, holding her just so to receive him more deeply.  Pleasure arced through her, her back bowed to draw him even deeper.

“Lass!  Scarlett!”

He was insistent, as if knowing that he held her on the precipice of rapture’s waiting abyss.  He wouldn’t let her leap, wouldn’t allow her to fall.  Pleasure became torment, aching poignantly through her every extremity.  “Och!  But ye’ll be the death of me.”  Increasing his pace, Laird carried her over the edge.  His hoarse cry outweighed her soul-wrenching sob as they succumbed together, soaring instead of plummeting.

Transcending instead of crashing.

Laird carried her to the bed and curled around her, spooning her bottom against his groin and hugging her tightly against him.  Scarlett wiggled even closer, finding