Highland Obsession Read Online Free Page A

chests rising and falling with their heavy breaths.
    But it was not a release for Cam. It was a call to action. Though his hands and breeches were slick with come, his body remained tense and unfulfilled.
    He would not be this pitiful creature, standing in the rain and frig ging himself while he wept. He was the bloody Earl of Camdonn, not some inexperienced lad with his hand to his heart pining over a lost love.
    Sorcha MacDonald belonged to him first, and by God, he’d bloody well have her again. Alan MacDonald was a nobody, a lowly Scottish laird of little means. He didn’t deserve her.
    Curse the repercussions to hell.
    Turning away from the window, Cam buttoned his breeches, wiping his sticky hands on the wool as he rounded the corner of the cottage and made a low, trilling birdcall to summon MacLean.
    As soon as Cam saw the shadowy figure thundering down the hill leading Cam’s mount by the reins, he drew his sword and ran to the front door of the cottage. He tried pushing it open, but it was bolted from the inside, so he stepped back and kicked through the weak planks, gaining strength from anger and need.
    He barreled inside to see Alan rushing through the doorway of the bedroom, naked, Sorcha at his heels. He reeled to a stop as Cam stalked toward him, sword held at the ready.
    “Stay back, Sorcha!” Alan bellowed. Sorcha halted at the threshold, her green eyes wide and her face pale with shock.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” Alan thundered. He glanced at Sorcha, who stood in all her naked glory in the doorway, and then whipped his glare back to Cam. “Damn you, Cam,” he ground out, teeth bared. “Get out of my house. Now .”
    Just the thought of Cam seeing her naked had driven Alan into a fury. What would he do if he knew Cam had seen that body time and again, if he knew how frequently, how wildly Cam had possessed it?
    Cam narrowed his eyes. Remembering the look of adoration Alan had given Sorcha after he came, Cam lunged closer, allowing all his righteous fury to show on his face. Before the man could react, Cam kneed him, hard, in the balls. Alan’s breath exploded in a whoosh, and he doubled over with a groan, clutching his crotch. Making a small sound of dismay, Sorcha leaped toward Alan.
    Keeping his sword trained on Alan, Cam flicked a glance at Sorcha, stalling her in her tracks. “You’re coming with me,” he said flatly.
    Understanding flared in her green eyes, but just as she turned to scramble away, Cam lunged at her, hooked his arm around her waist, heaved her over his shoulder.
    “No!” Alan roared. White-faced, he dove for them, but MacLean, who’d been standing by the splintered remains of the front door, drew his sword and rushed between Alan and Cam.
    Sorcha came alive as Cam wheeled around and took his first step toward the exit. “What are you doing?” she shouted, pounding his back. “What are you doing, Cam? Stop it! Put me down, now!”
    He grimly wondered whether she was aware of the informal way in which she’d addressed him. If Alan had heard, surely he would realize there had been something between them. She kicked and screamed and scratched at him, but Cam held her firmly. He expected such treatment—he already knew that as deliciously submissive as she was in bed, she could be a wildcat when she considered herself wronged.
    “Hold him off,” he shot over his shoulder to MacLean, who held his broadsword steadily trained on Alan’s neck.
    Cam sheathed his own sword as he strode outside. Mounting his horse with a fuming, slippery, naked woman wasn’t the easiest thing to do—it would be nigh impossible one-handed. He managed it without grace, flopping her over the docile gelding, then pinning her down as he mounted behind her. When he had her seated in front of him, still trying to squirm away, he threw his plaid over her shoulders to cover her nakedness. Then he grabbed his reins and slid his arm between the edges of the cloth to lock around her bare