Page 20 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

She huffed at him. “Mayhap, if ye’ll help me out of the water.”

Still smiling, he stepped across to the rock closest to her and offered her his hand, ready to pull her out. He was utterly unprepared for her to grab his hand and yank him forward and down, to topple them both into the autumn-chilled water once more.

He came up gasping, soaked from boots to the ends of his hair, to find Niamh laughing at him. “See how ye like it.” She splashed him again, water drenching his face anew.

The sight of her smile, bright and open as it had been on the day of the festival, shocked the anger from his bones before it even had a chance to fully form. Her auburn hair blazed like banked coals, the sun catching the gleam of water along it like shimmering crystal, and her eyes glowed with delight at having tricked him. She looked glorious, and he could no more have remained angry at her than he could have commanded the sun to stand still in the sky.

“If that’s the way ye wish tae play it…” He smirked as he undid his belt and tossed it to the riverbank. Niamh laughed and darted back, even as he crouched and flung a wall of water at her. She yelped as it hit her.

“Brute!” Splash.

“Wench!” Whoosh.

“That’s nae fair! Yer hands are bigger than mine!” Niamh pouted at him, and Alistair grinned back.

“’Tis nae me fault ye’re so small.”

“Small! I’ll show ye small!” This time, she used both arms to fling the water at him. The effort overbalanced her and sent her toppling toward the water. Alistair leaped forward to catch her in his arms.

Both of them froze. Alistair stared down at Niamh, his stomach tightening in a rush of heat at the warmth of her body so close to him. He could feel the cloth of her sleeves clinging to her shoulders and arms and see the way her dress clung to and highlighted every curve of her shapely figure.

Against the drenched fabric, her breasts were clearly defined, and cold had tightened her nipples. Alistair felt his mouth go dry at the sight, wondering what it would be like to take them in his hands, or in his mouth. Against his will, his gaze traveled down to the juncture of her thighs, before he forced himself to look up. His groin was tight, heat pooling low as he pulled her closer to him. “Niamh…”

One moment, they were playing in the water. The next, she stumbled, and Alistair was there to catch her. Niamh looked up as he steadied her, and her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn’t been so close to him since the day he’d ‘accidentally’ kissed her – the day of the festival. But this close, there was no denying Alistair was a handsome man, dark hair and green eyes coupled with a strong jaw and firm mouth.

His wet clothing clearly showed the width of his shoulders, the trim lines of his waist, and the defined muscles of his stomach. His sleeves clung to well-muscled arms, and his trews were likewise flush against his legs, revealing well-muscled thighs and calves.

She dragged her gaze back to his face, blushing as she realized she had been studying him, and where her eyes had almost wandered. The heat of his gaze was only slightly less than the heat of his body as he stared at her, and it was more than the cold that made her shiver in his arms as he murmured her name.

“Niamh…” It could be recognition or prayer or plea, she didn’t know which. All she knew was that the sound of his rough, velvet voice uttering her name in that hoarse tone ignited warmth within her, and made her knees feel weak. Her limbs tingled, and she wanted, with a sudden fierceness that surprised her, to lean up and kiss that mouth, to see if it was as firm as it looked and as soft as she remembered.

She leaned up, and he bent down, his large frame folding around her. The warmth that filled her cheeks seemed to be filling her belly as well as she moved closer to him.

His face was so close she could feel his breath on her cheeks, wafting through her wet hair. So close…

One of the horses whickered impatiently, and suddenly, the spell was broken. Niamh jerked back as if he’d set her hand afire. “He sounds upset.”

“Och, he doesnae like crossing streams, though I dinnae ken why. He wants tae be praised fer crossing without fuss.” Alistair’s voice was slightly rough, and she thought she could see regret in his eyes.

She swallowed hard and gripped her resolve and the banked embers of her anger with both hands. “Best ye see tae him then.”

“Aye.” With one last searching look at her, he turned and waded to the bank. Niamh followed him, now acutely aware of the chill in the air and her wet clothing.

Alistair fished a treat from a saddle bag and gave it to the horse, then found a spare length of cloth and handed it to her. “Best ye dry off and change. Ye’ll catch cold in those wet garments.”

“And what o’ ye?” She eyed his dripping attire. “Ye’re nae better off.”

“And I’ll be changin’ too, on the other side o’ the horse.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless ye’d rather I stayed close tae ye?”

Niamh flushed again. “Nay, thank ye. I can manage on me own. She hurried to grab a dry set of garments from her own bags, then darted around a tree to change.

Once she was dried and redressed, she felt much warmer, and much calmer. She was, however, surprised to realize that she’d felt no desire to run away, despite having the opportunity. She bit her lip, then stepped from the trees.

Alistair was already dressed and had set out a dry cloak for her as well. Niamh took it. “This doesnae change matters between us, ye ken.”

“How dae ye mean?” Alistair turned to face her.