Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle by Deborah MacGillivray Read Free Book Online Page B

feet. “If you’d… turn…” Raising his brow, Desmond silently marked her stammer and blush, but did as she asked.

    B.A. wanted to kick the man for his drop-dead, sexy grin .
    She picked up the cloth to clean his scratches, working in utter silence, though the kitty’s purr rivaled a badly tuned diesel engine as he rubbed against Desmond’s elbow. Toweling the scratches dry, B.A. saturated a cotton ball with tea tree oil. When the pungent fluid touched the raw skin, he jumped.
    “Sorry, they’re cat tracks. They need disinfecting.”
    “No problem.”
    B.A. couldn’t contain her sigh. The man’s back was as gorgeous as his chest. The shoulders were strong, square, and with the right amount of muscular contours. Two intriguing moles lay above the small of the spine, fortunately missed by Dudley in his attack.
    Maybe you ought to kiss them and make it better. Devil B.A.‘s suggestion dripped with enticement.
    Having Mershan in her bedroom conjured a surreal Twilight Zone quality. Pulse pounding, B.A. disliked the out-of-body sensation, which sucked all the air from the room. Desmond the Panther upset her nerves, awakening that part of her she’d carefully packed away after Evian’s death.
    Heaving a sigh, B.A. set aside the cotton ball, desperate to flee the room. She picked up the tray, escape within reach.
    He stopped her with four words. “What about my leg?”
    Tray rattling in her hands, she squeaked, “Your leg?”
    He rotated on his hips and got to his feet, fixing her with those warlock eyes. “Your cat bit me on the leg.”
    “He’s not my cat.”
    She recalled the scatty feline had sunk his claws into Desmond’s leg and bit him. Mesmerized by the piercing eyes and the wonderful expanse of naked chest, her gaze traveled down his body to the tailored black slacks.
    “Uh…. oh!” she spluttered, the walls of the oxygen-deprived room closing in on her.
    He smiled. And oh, what a smile. It was one of those smiles to turn a woman’s knees weak. Smug, he unbuckled his pants.
    She gulped. “Can you not push the pant leg up?”
    “It’d be awkward.”
    “Not as awkward as you dropping your bloody breeks!”
    She strangled when he did precisely that, then kicked out of them. The man was perfect—everywhere. Well, maybe not his toes—men rarely had pretty toes—but she barely paid them attention. The rest of him made up for standard-issue male feet. And wow, nothing typical in the underwear department. No sexless jockey whites women abhor, but black silk. Black silk covering a blatant erection!
    No, sir. She won’t catalog the perfection there, Devil B.A. chortled.
    Her vision jerked up, colliding with his feline eyes.
    Then it hit her. He had green eyes. Green eyes. No wonder her lads had dropped him into her bed.
    Och, she was doomed!

    Desmond watched the door close on B.A.‘s shapely rear as she beat a hasty retreat. He’d rattled the walls of her safe life on this tiny island in the Hebrides. Good. His mouth tugged at the corners. Male dominance surged in his blood, urging him to fling aside the duvet and run B.A. down like prey. He let her flee.
    All good things to those who wait. He’d waited a damn long time. For now, he could go slowly, relish the victory almost within his grasp.
    He lay back on the silk sheets, feeling out of place in the pale pink bedroom—yet loving every minute. His masculine presence was a stark contrast to the room. He was alien, dark… the invader. He recalled the Scots calling him a Viking. Well, he didn’t have a drop of Norse blood in him, but the aura of a Viking raider suited. Like a conquering warlord of old, he’d come to this island to claim it, and if he admitted it to himself, he’d come as much to face B.A.
    BarbaraAnne Montgomerie Deshaunt was his riddle of the Sphinx. She was unique to his world, a prize he’d denied himself for a very long time. Ever since he’d clawed his way out of grinding poverty and to the pinnacle of his high-powered