The Fraser Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

not the Munro. He was Ramsay MacGowan, but he’d said the words spoken in her dream, and—
    “Mary,” he murmured. His breath fanned her cheek. His chest was bare and dark. It was as broad as a boulder and sculpted with mounded muscle and tugging sinew. Against her arm, his hand felt as powerful and unyielding as the rough timbers beneath her feet.
    Power. ‘Twas what she needed to win the day. ‘Twas what she craved, and ‘twas here, right before her, if she could but harness it. And why could she not? Aye, he had seemed distrustful and distant at their first meeting, but that was in the full light of day. All men changed with the coming of darkness. That she had learned long ago. With an effort, she stilled the tremor in her hands. All her life men had admired her, had praised her golden tresses, her soft skin, her feminine form. Those attributes had gained her little but hardship so far, so it was surely time to collect on them. She was hardly above using her physical features to gain her ends, and MacGowan was hardly above feeling the bite of desire. That was a potent force indeed, but she would not be the one to pay the price this time.
    “Ramsay,” she whispered. ” ‘Tis you.”
    “Aye,” he said. His tone was quiet, cautious. “But why are you here?”
    “I …” she turned her eyes sideways, forcing herself to be calm, to remember her mission. “I had a dream,” she whispered, and moved marginally closer.
    “A dream?”
    “Aye.” Her voice was only a wisp of sound in her own ears. “Aye. ‘Twas most … most …” She broke off.
    “Lass, you are shaking.” He leaned slightly closer. His breath smelled of sweet wine, and when he slipped his arm around her back, she was able by dint of sheer will to keep from drawing away. “But you needn’t worry,” he said, and stroked her hair lightly.
    “Nay. Not whilst you are here,” she said, and forced her eyes to fall closed. ” ‘Twas you I dreamt of.”
    The stroking stopped, but she refused to look up to determine his mood.
    “Not the one who frightened you, I hope.”
    “Nay.” She paused, holding her breath as if ashamed to say the next words. “The one who saved me.”
    She heard him draw a deep breath and then his hand moved again, but slowly, as if he were thinking. “How clever of me,” he said.
    “Aye,” she murmured, and grasping his arms in shaky fingers, pulled herself closer so that her nipples touched his chest through her borrowed night rail. They tightened on contact, sending a tingling warning through her system. But she had no time to decipher warnings. “Clever and brave and ultimately chivalrous.”
    “You took quite a blow to your head, lass. Are you certain you are not mistaking me for someone else? One of me brothers, mayhap?”
    She forced a tremulous smile. “Nay, my laird. I am a fine judge of men. You are not the ogre you pretend to be.”
    In the darkness, she watched his brows rise toward the line of his hair. “I am ever so happy to hear it,” he said. “But now I wonder, if you judge me so kindly, why you were afraid just moments ago?”
    “I thought you were …” A bearded face flashed through her mind. She jerked at the image, then realized the opportunity that came with the fear and pulled herself closer to Ramsay’s warm chest.
    “What is it, lass?”
    She loosened her grip and eased back a scant half an inch. ” ‘Tis naught,” she breathed. “Only the dream.”
    His gaze never wavered from her face. “But in the dream I saved you, did I not?” he asked, and eased his arm down her back, circling her waist.
    Panic rose in her throat. Too close, her mind screamed. But she must play the game. All she held dear depended on it. “Aye,” she said, and remained as she was, in the circle of his arm. “You did.”
    “Then surely I deserve a kiss,” he murmured, and suddenly his lips were against hers.
    Her heart slammed into her ribs and her hands shook, but she allowed a moment’s