Plaid to the Bone Read Online Free PDF Page A

personal beyond the vague hope of an heir someday.
    He realized now that he could have done far worse for a bride. Cait Grant was pretty, intelligent, and she knew some engaging stories. All fine things for warming a man’s winter evenings. His gaze dipped lower, marking the way a pert nipple was peeking between her fingers. She’d warm his bed well all year round. Even if he’d chosen a wife for himself, he could hardly have done better.
    She, however, didn’t seem too pleased with her side of the bargain. Her father had been his enemy for so long, she’d probably heard tales about him that were giving her pause.
    Time to rectify that.
    “Lass, I want to put your mind at ease. Ye have no reason to fear me, and I’ll see that ye never do.”
    She met his gaze then, her eyes enormous. “Maybe ye should fear me,” she said in a small voice.
    Adam laughed again, a little surprised by the number of times she’d managed to make him do that in the space of their short acquaintance. “Maybe I should, but I dinna think I will.”
    He cupped the back of her head and bent to kiss her lips.
    At first, he meant to only brush her mouth with his, but her lips were so soft, he lingered. She stiffened, but didn’t object. Then he felt her melt. Her lips parted and he dived into the warm wetness of her mouth.
    Aye, she’d serve him well, and he’d endeavor to return the favor.
     
    Cait’s world went wet and languid and almost unbearably sweet. When his tongue softly invaded her mouth, she welcomed it. She sensed he was bridling himself and an impatient part of her wished she could brush his caution away. It wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed before.
    She supposed she had acted skittish. He probably figured there was no need to scare her off first thing.
    She ought to be the one doing the scaring.
    Go away, Adam Cameron, she thought vehemently. Can ye no’ feel the harm I intend toward ye?
    Despite her furious thoughts of warning, her hands somehow found the linen of his shirt and tugged him closer. He deepened their kiss and set her insides dancing.
    She ought not to let him kiss her. She ought to make him keep his distance. They ought not to even have speech with each other before the ceremony that would bind them together before God and man. There was no need for him to know her or her to know him. Even once they were wed, she’d counted on the candles being snuffed and the wedding night necessities being reduced to no more than a quick fumble in the dark.
    An anonymous quick fumble. A joining of body parts with no corresponding meeting of hearts, minds, or souls.
    That hope dissolved as Cait chased his tongue back into his mouth and he groaned with need. She let go of his shirt with one hand and reached up to stroke his hair. It was thick and abundant and soft as . . .
    Oh, why had she told him about the selkies? That was such an old fantasy of hers, Cait had no idea why it had popped back into her head. It had been foolish then. It was even more ludicrous now.
    She’d been so very young when she started dreaming of a selkie who would come for her and take her away from the Grant stronghold. Away from the angry voice of her father. Away from the muffled sobs of her mother. Away from the puffy lips and swollen eyes and the constant whispers about how clumsy the lady must be since she tripped and hurt herself so often.
    Cait never saw her mother fall. She always moved with quiet grace and dignity. Her mother hid her bruises, but she couldn’t hide the winces of pain if Cait happened to touch her arm or try to give her a hug.
    A selkie would never let his wife injure herself like that.
    When her mother died, Cait had crept away to that place by the sea whenever she could. At first she wept every day, hoping a selkie would come for her. Finally, she gave up hoping and just let the stark beauty of the place fill up the empty space in her soul.
    And spent the rest of her days slavishly devoted to pleasing her father, the