Highland Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

where there was none. What a combination she was, at once fierce andfragile. Her hair, in the firelight, glowed like the garnets of her ring. He wanted to feel the weight of it and twist those tresses between his fingers. Bedding her would not be such a chore, after all, if she stayed sweet like in this moment. He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her shoulder.
    She gasped at the contact. His mouth on her skin seared like a brand. “Must you do that?”
    He looked at her, surprised. “What?”
    “Kiss me. Is it...necessary?”
    His head crooked, along with his smile. “Necessary? No. But it’s my preference.”
    She didn’t like it. Not one bit. It singed, and not just where his lips met her skin, but other places too. “Well, it’s not my preference. Could you proceed without it?”
    His laughter was rich, a deep rumbling sound like faraway thunder. “I could,” he said. “But the kissing...helps.”
    Why? It seemed most distracting to her. Everything about him was bewildering. He was her enemy sworn. A cruel, detestable, violent Campbell. And yet, tonight, this man in her bed seemed none of these things. None of those things that she needed him to be to stoke the fire of her anger. Instead, he was gentle and inquisitive and patient. And naked, stoking another kind of fire entirely. Her mind, which all day had been assailed with unpleasant thoughts, was now roaming to places it had never conjured previously. And she was awash with the shame of it.
    “Fiona, do you understand what must occur between us?” He twisted the second tie of her nightdress loose.
    Fire lit her cheeks like cinders. “Of course. My nurse explained it.”
    He laughed again. “Your nurse? You mean that old sack of bones who hovers around you like a fly? What did she tell you?”
    “If you don’t know, than I shan’t enlighten you.” She pulled the covers up higher and tried unsuccessfully to push his hand away.
    Instead, he tugged the covers farther down and nudged her jaw with his thumb, turning her face toward him. “Did she frighten you?”
    “Not as much as you do.” Her answer was out before she could pull it back, yet how she wished she could. Hugh Sinclair must be turning in his grave at her admission. Myles might think only a fool fought a battle already lost, but her father would say only a coward gave up before he was dead. So what was she to do, really? Was it more courageous to fight him until death? Or live, and perhaps win the war another day?
    She thought of Margaret and knew her answer.
    Fiona’s heart felt like ice in her chest, brittle and cold as she stared back at her husband. Something about his gaze seemed almost familiar, but of course it would, for he had been staring at her all day, pulling her toward him with an invisible string.
    “You can trust in me, Fiona.”
    This was it, then. No more talk of hawks and ponies and unnecessary kisses. She heaved a sigh from deep within. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, more to herself and God than to her husband.
    Myles rolled closer. “Let’s take off that shift, and I will teach you.”

CHAPTER 4

    S HE WAITED FOR lightning to strike from heaven as angels came to rescue her, but heard only the common crackle of the fire and her husband’s shallow breath.
    His hand slid down her body and caught the hem of her garment, raising it slowly, pushing it into a bunch about her waist. Reluctantly, she shifted, granting him access while trying to evade any additional contact. But his hands skimmed along her skin like petals blowing over water and her lungs fluttered inside. She sat up and turned her back, raising her arms. He tugged the last of the shift over her head, and the fabric slipped away and floated to the floor, along with all her defenses.
    She fell back against the mattress as if pushed, and closed her eyes tight, wishing him away. But he leaned closer and ran a fingertip down her face, between her eyes, and over her nose, letting it linger on