Her Wicked Highlander: A Highland Knights Novella by Jennifer Haymore Read Free Book Online

sighed. “I thought I made it clear I planned to seduce you.”
    She could tell he was trying not to grin. His lips didn’t budge, but his eyes glowed with a smile nonetheless. “You did. And I’ll not be allowing it.”
    “You’re ridiculous,” she said.
    “Aye, well—” He rubbed a frustrated hand over his head. “I think so too, half the time. Now get to bed.”
    Aila went, smiling to herself. His resistance was wearing thin. Soon. Not tonight, but soon he’d show her all those pleasures she’d always wondered about.

    Two days passed, then three. The snow had come, and white now blanketed the world outside. But, working together, Max and Aila had managed to create a warm, comfortable retreat amid the multitude of rooms in the castle.
    She was torturing him.
    Max was trying to do the right thing, damn it. Then why did she taunt him continually, stretching his resistance so tightly, he was afraid he’d snap and do something he’d regret later?
    He was normally a stoic, contained individual. But something about Aila MacKerrick unraveled him, made him feel wild and unsure.
    They’d just had dinner on their fifth night at Beauly Castle, and they’d retired to the drawing room, where Max had started a fire. Earlier, they’d raided the library up on the second floor, and each of them had found a small pile of books they wanted to read.
    Now, by the light of a lantern, Aila opened the first book— The Canterbury Tales —kicked off her shoes, tucked her feet beneath her on the sofa, and proceeded to read.
    He opened his own book—Shakespeare’s Coriolanus .
    He tried to read. But he couldn’t. Instead, he kept glancing over at her. Bonny Aila, who’d toiled beside him for the last week as if there was no doubt she’d ever do anything else, but this wasn’t her castle; the place’s filth wasn’t her problem. He appreciated all she’d done. She’d made it easy for him.
    And now she lounged against the sofa and read avidly, looking relaxed and lovely, her body calling out to him in a siren’s song he’d been avoiding for what seemed like forever.
    Why did he insist upon torturing himself? She wanted him. She’d made that clear in about ten thousand different ways over the last few days.
    Closing his book with a snap , he stood abruptly and strode over to her, watching her as she peered up at him over the top of her book. He took The Canterbury Tales from her hands and set it aside as she complained, “Wait! I’m at a good—”
    “Be quiet,” he ordered.
    “But—”
    He scooped her off the sofa and grabbed the lantern. She squealed as he strode out of the room, headed for the stairs.
    “What are you doing, Max?” she asked crossly. But she slipped her arms around his neck.
    He couldn’t think. He could only feel her body against him—a sensation he’d craved for what felt like eternity. She felt so good against him. As if she belonged there. And he knew he needed to get her to a place where he could have more.
    He reached their bedchamber and stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind them before laying her on her bed and setting the lantern on the side table.
    She stared up at him. “What on earth—”
    He kicked off his boots. “I’ve reached my limit with you, woman.”
    “Your limit? What do you—” She was struck dumb, though, as he yanked his shirt over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up, wearing nothing but his kilt.
    “Oh good heavens,” she gasped, her gaze trailing appreciatively over his chest.
    With that, his patience for undressing was at an end, and he didn’t bother with his belt. Instead, he climbed onto the bed and loomed over her.
    “No more. Do you hear me? No more,” he growled.
    “No more what?”
    “Dinna pretend you dinna understand.”
    She opened her mouth, but he dropped his head and kissed her, hard, pouring into it all the frustration of the last several days. She surrendered immediately, her arms wrapping around him and her lips moving