In Bed with the Highlander Read Online Free

this bit. Healers were thought to be
witches in his day and age. Not going there in this dream. “Nope.”
    “Is that the same as no ?”
    “Holy crap! This is the strangest dream I’ve ever had.”
    “Crap. That’s a saint I’ve not heard of. A healer’s saint?”
    “I’m not a healer and crap is not a
saint it’s...er...an expression. A curse.”
    “So it is a witch you are.” She glanced up at his face. His
eyes were alight with laughter.
    She gave him a shove. “Stop teasing or I’ll find somewhere else
to use the whisky.”
    “Put it in two glasses and we’ll be drinking that toast.”
    She poured them each a glass and handed one to him. He took the
glasses from her nerveless hands and placed them on the table beside him, then
caught her wrist. Slowly inexorably, he pulled her closer, and then down onto
his lap. “Beautiful you are, Moirag,” he murmured.
    A shimmer, like light and heat blasted in on a high wind,
rolled over her skin. His full lips looked soft and inviting with their half
smile. Half closed lids turned his expression from teasing to sensual, his hard
jaw softened. A kiss hovered in the warm breath caressing her mouth. Yet he
waited.
    Oh, heck. If she was going to have a dream, it might as well be
a good one. She twined her arms around his neck, the feel of his long hair
strange and intriguing, and pulled his head lower. She claimed his mouth with a
hunger she hadn’t known existed until that moment. Her body hummed with
contentment as his tongue swept her mouth and his arms pulled her close against
his broad chest. Fingers raked through her hair, large hands stroked her back,
her hips, her thigh. She explored the warm satiny skin of his shoulders, traced
the contours of his back, teased the nipples hiding in a sprinkling of crisp
hair, until they hardened against her palms.
    The kiss filled her with a strange kind of wonder. Each stroke
of his hands seemed to set her skin alight. It was if she had never been truly
alive before. Desire coursed through her in waves, leaving her dizzy and
breathless and wanting so much more. And the rigid flesh pressed against her hip
told his story. He wanted her, too.
    Breathing hard, he broke the kiss. He stared down at her.
“You’ll be the death of me, lass. Although, it would be a wonderful way to go.”
He lifted her, shifting her position on his lap with a groan.
    “What do you mean?”
    “It is not right for a man to take advantage of a maid in her
chamber.”
    A sense of disappointment flooded through her, along with a
kind of admiration. Damn the eighteenth-century idea of female morals. “What if
the maid is willing?”
    “Willing or no, you are a guest of the laird. I cannot take
advantage of his hospitality.” He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and set
her on her feet. He swept up the glasses of Scotch and handed her one. “Death to
the English.” He downed the golden liquid in one swallow.
    “Och aye,” she said, and chugged. The heat of it hit the back
of her throat and slid all the way to her stomach like a draft of liquid fire.
It felt so real. It couldn’t be a dream. This was a hotel skit put on for
tourists. And dammit, she was going to enjoy it. Even if it ended up in a video
on the internet. “You are right. It is good stuff.”
    His eyes opened wide. “You are a strange one.”
    “You are not the first to think so.” Every man she’d ever got
close to ran off in panic after a month or so. Except Alec, who’d realized he
was on to a good thing.
    He closed his eyes in a wince and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the
pallor in his face had increased. She glanced down at the bandage, but no blood
had seeped through. “Are you all right? You look a bit faint.”
    “Faint,” he growled. “Women faint. Do you think I’m some sort
of weakling?”
    “Steady the buffs. I just thought you looked a little pale.
When did you eat last?”
    An expression of surprise entered his eyes. “This morn.”
    “So if you feel