Her Highland Protector. Ann Lethbridge

so she merely nodded.

      He closed his eyes briefly. ‘I felt sure the man in the market was going to carry you away. It makes me go cold every time I think of it.’

      ‘Your arrival was timely,’ she whispered, gazing up into his eyes, mesmerised by the heat she saw in their depths.

      Slowly, his hand lifted to her shoulder, a light touch, but searing, and she welcomed the contact, the feeling of not being quite so alone as she had been since her father died. Though why his touch should have that effect, she didn’t know. Perhaps because he’d stood alongside her in her hour of need.

      His other hand cradled her cheek. Warm. Callused. Yet infinitely gentle. She held her breath, fearful and wanting. Revelling in his touch, when she knew she should push him away. And knowing she did not want to.

      And then his head dipped and his mouth, velvet, warm, brushed her lips. A sweet gentle pressure, softly demanding.

      Nothing like the awkward affair she’d initiated on the road, his lips melded with hers, moving, wooing, a finely honed assault. Little chills darted down her back. Her breathing became uneven, her heart an out-of-control thud against her ribs.

      The even deep rise and fall of his chest brushed against her breasts in a tantalising caress. His tongue darted against the seam of her mouth, tiny thrilling little flicks telling her what he wanted, yet not demanding. Encouraging.

      Inside, she shook with the rise of desire, pressing closer to the wonderful lean length of him, parting her lips and gasping in pleasurable shock as his tongue languorously swept her mouth, sliding against her tongue, tasting her as if she was some sort of honeyed treat.

      Heat curled through her veins like smoke filling every corner of her being. Delicious heat. Bone-melting heat.

      Her arms went up around his neck. Naturally they would, there being no other way to prevent a slow slide to the floor. His hands encircled her back, pulled her close between his strong thighs, then roamed down her hips and her bottom.

      Now she could feel his heartbeat against her chest, a strong steady rhythm, if a little fast. His breathing rasped in the silence, and felt warm on her ear. She could not suppress a small moan of pleasure at the delicious sensations rippling through her body.

      He made a soft sound like a choked-off groan, and his tongue withdrew, his kisses dancing like butterflies over her mouth. Slowly he drew back, his eyes dark, his expression dazed.

      And as he looked at her, she saw the moment he came to his senses. Saw the shock and the regret.

      He stood there staring at her, looking so stiff and awkward as if he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, which a moment before had been roaming her body in a most intimate way. A strange urge to giggle pressed at her throat. She covered her lips with her fingers to hold it inside. To not let him see how foolish he made her feel inside. How foolishly, femininely weak. A fatal flaw.