Claimed by the Highlander by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online Page A

moment. I’ve had enough fighting for one day. All I want is your soft naked body under my own, and I’m surprised we’re still standing here discussing it. You ought to be proud of yourself, lass, for causing such a delay.”
    Her hands tightened into fists. “Why don’t you find yourself another woman to satisfy your lust? I am not willing.”
    “You’re a bit of a shrew, aren’t you?”
    His lips brushed over her cheek. He was so close, she could smell the masculine fragrance of his skin.
    “If it displeases you, then yes, I am.”
    Without the slightest warning, he scooped her up into his arms and tossed her onto the bed. Before she could utter a single word of outrage, he was on top of her, pressing her into the feathery softness of the mattress—so deep, she thought she’d never find her way out.
    “Maybe I should just take you now and complete the invasion,” he said in a low voice as he slid his hand up under her skirts to caress her thigh. “Why wait for our wedding night?”
    “But we had an agreement. In the hall … You promised…”
    “Maybe I was just toying with you.” He brushed his nose over the tip of hers, then across her cheek to her ear, while his broad palm slid under her backside and pulled her hips tight up against him.
    Gwendolen remembered her earlier vow to be brave, no matter what he did to her, and tried to focus on some dignified response to this sudden brutish pillaging of her innocence. “I may be forced to submit my body to you,” she said, “but I will never submit my soul.”
    He laughed in her ear. “Enough with the theatricals, lass. Do you know how comical you are? It’s like something out of a bad play. What have you been reading lately?”
    She was both infuriated and mortified. Every part of her body seemed to be throbbing and flaming with unbidden heat, and she felt completely exposed. “It was not my intention to provide you with entertainment.”
    “And yet, I am spellbound. If I didn’t have to hold you down, I’d be applauding your performance, and throwing roses up onto your stage.”
    His mouth found hers, and the intimacy of the connection was too much for her to take. Her lips, burning and aching, soon gave way to his plunging advance and softened to the irresistible stroke of his tongue.
    Oh, how would she ever navigate her way through this sacrifice?
    Although “sacrifice” was becoming less and less the proper word to describe what was happening here, for she was floating away rather quickly on an intoxicating haze of sensation.
    He laid soft, wet kisses across her eyelids and along her forehead, and inched his body upward, thrusting against her with smooth, gentle undulations that reminded her of the sea. A moment later, the kisses found their way to the sensitive, tingling flesh at her neck. His tongue pushed into the hollow of her throat.
    Gwendolen focused on her breathing, working hard to remain resistant—or at least give the appearance of indifference.
    She looked up at the crimson canopy overhead and chastised herself for this swift surrender, when she had been so determined to fight and die an honorable death today, alongside her clansmen who had battled so valiantly. Instead, she was melting like warm sugar cake in her conqueror’s arms.
    She told herself that it was only because she had never been kissed before today, and she lacked the experience necessary to use sex for power, as her mother would have done—quite effectively—had she been here in Gwendolen’s place.
    On the other hand, she had a feeling that her mother might have fared no better. She would probably be melting like warm sugar cake, too.
    All at once, Onora’s face flashed in Gwendolen’s eyes. “Please, I must ask you one thing,” she said breathlessly. “Is my mother safe? Tell me you have not harmed her.”
    Angus kissed the side of her neck and thrust his hips. “How badly do you want to know?”
    “Badly,” she replied. “I promise, if you tell me