AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Catriona remembered the quip, furious as she trudged towards the stockyard the next morning. Of course not! The deuced giant had the size of a god, the face of a fallen angel, the voice of a tenor. And the insidious tendency to make her hot with a single glance from those cinnamon orbs.
She wished fervently that the Arab beauty responded faster to the training. The whole thing was getting out of hand dangerously. Desperately.
Cramped in a carriage with the blasted laird had made nothing easy. The banter merely served to pull her even more to him. His renewed prying had been unnerving, but not so much as his proximity with the scent of green woods and man and his open scrutiny. Her replies snapped simply because her defences focused entirely on avoiding the scorching effect he bludgeoned on her. If she were not who she was, perhaps she might allow herself to let her yearning run free. But she had duties to her family, not to mention the role he would undertake in not so distant a future.
Hours later, under a hot sun, Fingal and Catriona stood in the fenced space, stuck in the same training routine with Fiadhaich. If she did not have this persistent streak in her, she would begin to lose heart. But it seemed too early for that.
“Maybe we should try something new,” she ventured.
“What do you have in mind?” he asked.
They did not interact the whole time. They had gone through the routine with the horse, speaking little and looking each other in the eye even less. There appeared to be an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.
“I’d like to put a blanket on him to see how he takes it.” It was the first thing to put on a horse before the saddle.
“About time, I suppose,” he agreed and dashed to the adjoining shed.
Emerging with it, he walked to the Arab stallion. Trouble was, with the heat of the sun, he had taken off his shirt and had his tartan thrown over one shoulder. The sight of his taut muscles nearly undid her. Why did the man have to go half-naked around her? The effort not to gape and gawk was difficult while trying to tear her eyes from him.
“Better if I do it first,” Catriona suggested.
Fingal handed the item to her and stepped aside.
Catriona spoke softly with the animal as she neared him and lifted her arms to place the blanket on his back. She had not finished doing it when, fast as the wind, Fiadhaich reared, knocking her to the ground. Her back hit the dusty surface, and she froze in surprise.
“No!” Fingal reacted promptly to grab the rope and limit the horse’s radius of movement.
Rope tied to the fence, he rushed to Catriona. “Are you all right?” His features crumpled with anger and worry.
Apart from her pride, the fall did nothing to her physically. “I’m fine,” she reassured him, though her buttocks felt a tad sore.
But the man had already bent to pick her up. “What are you doing?” her question came with a ludicrous ring to it.
“Taking you to the manor to check if everything is in place.” It came out as an order.
“But I don’t need—” Then he lifted her with his powerful arms and her body collided with his. She lost her voice and the ability to articulate any words.
Breath caught in her throat; heat spread all over her. To keep her balance, her hand went to hold his shoulder. The naked shoulder. The contact was a veritable collision. Her fingers registered smooth, warm skin and bunched muscles, while her nostrils took in the scent of him. It undermined her clear thought.
The manor stood about a hundred yards up a small hill. He marched as if she weighed like a plume. She wished he would put her down, then she wished he would not, their bodies bumping with the movement, her hand holding his shoulder with delighted insistence.
They were just passing the outer wall where the ruins of a gatehouse stood, when he paused to look directly at her. The first heated exchange of the day. “Sassenach.” The low silky voice caused her to lift her gaze to him. “What are you doing?” came his question.
“Doing what?” she asked, hazy with his nearness.
Only then did she realise her thumb was caressing his n
ipple, enjoying the silky feel in contrast with the dark-brown hair surrounding it.
By now, he had let her slip down along him with maddening slowness. Her booted feet landed right in the gatehouse. Eyes wide on him, her thumb froze mid-movement, her tingling lips drawing an ‘oh.’
A strong arm slipped around her. “Don’t stop, damn you!” he demanded in a murmur.
Without a second of hesitation, she restarted the mindless caress. That was when his sculpted mouth dived on hers, and everything went still.
Everything but them.
His lips brushed over hers as she lifted her head to take the most of what he bestowed on her. The stubble on his jaw prickled her skin and increased her hunger. She issued a sound in her throat when his tongue followed, caressing, tempting every single nerve.
