Highland Warrior Read Online Free PDF Page A

met her gaze. She looked as if she wanted to wrap the rope around his neck and strangle him—slowly. He wondered why he found that amusing and decided that lust was disordering his wits.
    Fiona silently called him every foul name she could think of as he gently, but firmly, pushed her down onto the blanket. He sprawled at her side, then spread another blanket over the top of them. When he crossed one arm beneath his head and draped the one she was bound to over his stomach, she found herself forced onto her side, facing him.
    “I dinnae suppose ye would accept my vow to nay try to escape?” she asked as she shifted around a little in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position.
    “Nay. I dinnae ken who ye are and ye dinnae plan to tell me, do ye, Fiona-of-the-ten-knives?”
    She almost smiled over the name he gave her, then grimaced. Fiona-of-the-eleven-knives would be better, for that would mean that she still had one hidden away and could cut herself free. There were worse things he could have done to make sure she gave him no trouble during the night, but this would make sleep difficult.
    So would this enforced closeness, she realized as she suddenly became aware of a few disconcerting facts. She was far too aware of the big, strong body so close to hers. He was enticingly warm and smelled nice, clean and with his own personal scent that she found dangerously attractive. Fiona abruptly recalled their wrestling together as he had relieved her of her weapons. A blush singed her cheeks as she realized she wanted to feel those big hands on her again; only this time they would linger and caress. It was madness, but she instinctively knew it would be very difficult to cure herself of it.
    Closing her eyes, she tried to revive the fear of strangers, of men, that Menzies’s perverted pursuit had bred in her, but it would not come. For reasons of its own, her heart would not allow her to fear this big, dark man. Feelings she had never experienced before, for any man, were stirring to life within her. A part of her wanted to let those feelings grow and soar. A saner part of her wanted to bury them. Not only was this a very bad time to discover she could be attracted to a man, could even feel passion for one, but it could prove to be a very unwise choice. After silently cursing long and hard, Fiona fought to clear her mind of all troubling thoughts. Perhaps after some sleep, she could find the strength to stand back and see everything more clearly.
    Ewan chanced a look at the woman he was leashed to. His gaze lingered when he realized she was asleep. The softness sleep brought to her face and the moonlight made her only more beautiful. He silently cursed as he was forced to admit that he could look atthat small heart-shaped face for a very long time and never tire of doing so. Ewan knew that a lot of men would find her flawed because of the scars upon her face, but in his eyes, they did nothing to lessen her beauty.
    He clenched his hands into tight fists as he fought the urge to touch Fiona. The memory of the silken warmth of her skin beneath his hands as he had searched her for weapons was a hard one to banish. Nay, it was impossible, he admitted. He ached to feel that warmth again, to linger over it, from the soles of her small feet to her smooth brow.
    Simply thinking of touching her soon had him aroused to the point where it was painful. Ewan wanted to feel those firm, plump breasts nestling into his palms. He wanted those long, strong legs of hers to be wrapped around his waist. He desperately wanted to hear her cry out his name whilst caught fast in the throes of the passion he would stir within her.
    It was madness. The dreams of a fool. He was big, dark in looks and in humor, and badly scarred. Women did not flock to him as they did to Gregor. Once a year he spent a night with a whore, who took his coin and never begged him to return soon. If a woman ever cried out his name, it was in fear.
    Ewan closed his eyes and