A Highlander Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

you in the snow?”
    A renewed shudder rushed through her. “I was asleep, and he and his man kicked in and splintered my door. I tried to fight him, but I . . . couldn’t. He was drunk. He took me from my bed, threw me on his horse, and started riding like a madman up the mountain. I”—she sucked in a breath—“I think he intended to bring me here.”
    She glanced at Logan to gauge his reaction. He scowled down at her, his forehead creased. “Haven’t you any men in your clan? To care for you? To look out for your safety?”
    “I don’t require a man to protect me.”
    “Of course you do.”
    She huffed out a breath. “Well, there are men in my family, of course. The MacDonald of Beauly is Torean, my first cousin. However, I’ve never asked—”
    “Why didn’t your laird protect you from this Munroe?” The growling threat had returned to Logan’s voice.
    “He believes I should accept Innes.” She shrugged, thrusting away the dark feeling of betrayal that admission brought with it. “At least, that’s what Innes said. He said my cousin approved of him abducting me from my home. That it—” Maggie swallowed the bitter taste of bile. “That it was Torean’s suggestion.”
    Logan made a low, menacing sound, and his shoulder muscles bunched.
    She shook her head in bemusement. Though it probably should have roused her independent nature and raised her hackles, she found herself lapping up Logan’s attention like a starving kitten would a bowl of sweet cream. No one had ever been so protective of her—even Duneghall had left her to her own devices upon sensing her capability to care for herself.
    “Why does that distress you, Logan Douglas?” She raised her hand and touched it to the solid bulk of his arm.
    “I don’t enjoy seeing a woman ill used.”
    “But you don’t know me.”
    Logan’s hard fingers pressed beneath her chin and lifted it until she faced him. “I know you, Maggie. I’ve lain beside you, flesh against flesh. I’d say I know you well.” He lowered his head until their noses were inches apart, and his warm breath washed over her cheek. He stared at her with those deep black eyes, searching, studying. His pupils were dilated, his lips parted. Lord, what beautiful lips he had.
    She’d lost every impulse to push him away. In fact, she wanted him close. Closer . Her lids descended, heavy from the anticipation of his kiss. As he drew nearer, she leaned into it. They were so close she could all but feel those lips on her. Taking her. Possessing her.
    For the first time since she became a widow, she craved a man’s kiss. That intimate sharing. That carnal embrace . . .
    He dropped her chin. Then he rose and turned toward the fire.
    “Porridge is ready,” he said gruffly.

Chapter Three
    Logan was no good with women. His mother had died when he was a babe, and he’d been raised among men. Women had always been vague, ambiguous creatures to him, mysterious as the kelpies that prowled the depths of the Highland lochs.
    Maggie MacDonald wrought all kinds of strange sensations on him. It went beyond his regular befuddlement with her sex. Whenever he set eyes upon her slight frame, a violent protectiveness overcame him. Yet whenever he tried to act on those impulses, she thrust him away. Outwardly, she was as frail and delicate as a flower, but inwardly she was fiercely independent.
    He didn’t know what to do with her. The more he remained in close quarters with her, the more he wanted to touch her. Beyond that, to tame her. His self-control grew more tenuous by the minute. If he spent much more time in this cottage with Maggie MacDonald, he was going to crawl out of his skin.
    Maggie certainly didn’t supply any assistance in soothing his tormented thoughts, not with her hot and cold behavior. One moment, she’d brush her fingers over his arm or his shoulders, murmuring how warm he was—and arousing him nearly beyond endurance—and the next, she’d catch herself and put as