Read Hannah and the Highlander Online
Authors: Sabrina York
Hannah and the Highlander (40 page)
He chuckledâ
chuckled
, the bastardâmaking it clear he recognized her cowardice for what it was. And he paced her.
“They're all good men. They all volunteered to come with me. Each and every one of them is dedicated to the cause of protecting Reay from the villains who have been plaguing you. However⦔
The way he trailed off derailed her retreat. She stilled. Glared at him. “However, what?”
“However, they do have ⦠needs. Surely you can find better lodgings.”
She blew out a breath. “In time.” In time.
In time, he would be gone, God willing.
He stepped toward her again, although nonchalantly, as though he were not chasing her across the room. It occurred to her they were engaged in something of a macabre dance. It set her nerves on edge. She hadn't realized what a long room this was, or how far it was to the stairs.
“
Doona
leave it too long.” His smile was heinous. It made all kinds of shivers dance over her skin. “My men are ⦠restless.” She had the chilling sense he was talking about himself.
“I shall ⦠do my best.” Like hell. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do.”
His brow quirked. She tried not to notice what a perfect brow it was. “Ah, but I thought you and I could ⦠talk.”
“Talk?” She didn't intend to squawk, but she could tell from his predatory stance, a conversation was not the primary urge on his mind. At least, not one with words.
He nodded. Though his features were patently earnest, the sincerity was patently affected. “About the defenses you have in place ⦠so I can decide what needs improvement.”
Aggravation rippled. It displaced her concerns about being here, with him, all alone. Fury did that, she'd often found. Overrode common sense and led one into dangerous waters. Her hands curled into fists. She strode toward him until they were nearly nose to nose. “Nothing needs improvement,” she snapped. They didn't need him. Or his men. Or his stupid ideas.
“Nonsense. Now that we're here, we intend to make a statement to Stafford, or whatever miscreants are lurking out there thinking Dounreay is an easy target. But before I set my plans in motionâ”
“Your plans?”
He already had plans? Och!
He was so exasperating.
She barely noticed that he stepped closer ⦠until their chests brushed. He was hard and hot; the touch made her tingle. His voice, low and luring, made her tingle as well. His gaze skated over her face, then stalled on her lips. “Let's meet and discussâ”
Her pulse skittered. “I
doona
have time to meet with you. Not today.” She took a step back. He followed.
“
Nae
?” A whisper. And his caress over her shoulder, that was a whisper as well. Like a panicked fawn, Susana eased back again. And again. He matched her, step for step.
She swallowed heavily. “I ⦠You have descended upon us with no warningâ”
“My brother sent a letter.”
He was too close. Far too close. She swallowed heavily. “Twenty-five men that now need to be housed and fed. On top of that, I have many other duties that need attending.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Which duties?”
“
Many
duties.” She frowned and glanced toward the staircase. Ah, lord. It was so far ⦠He was too warm. Too broad. Too alluring. Though she didn't intend to, she took another step back andâ
Oh hell.
He'd backed her against the wall. That he couldn't stand straight in the low-ceilinged room was a small consolation.
“Susana,” he said as he leaned closer. His breath was a tantalizing trail over her face.
An unholy thrill snaked through her. Surely that wasn't anticipation? Hunger? Need?
She could not allow him to kiss her. She could notâ
Her knees nearly melted at the touch of his lips. His warmth, his taste, his scent made her mind whirl. Thank God he had his hands on her waist and was holding her steady, or she might well have collapsed.
It occurred to her that she should push him away, fight him, but she couldn't. Something, something deep within her, resisted. Something deep within her needed him. Needed this.
And ah, it was glorious. As glorious as she remembered.
His lips were soft, gentle, questing as they tested hers, and then, with a groan, he pulled her closer, melding their bodies together. He deepened the kiss, sealing his mouth over hers and dancing his tongue over the seam.
She opened to him. She couldn't resist. He filled her senses with his presence, his heat. With tiny nibbles, sucks, and laps, he consumed her, enflamed her. All sanity fled. All logic and resolution and anger flitted away as Andrew tasted her, tempted her.
His hands were not still. They roved over her body from her shoulders, down her arms to her waist. They tangled in her hair and stroked her cheek and chin.
Heat blossomed, skittered through her veins. Her body softened, melted, prepared for him.
She should not have responded the way she did. She should not have pressed against him, rubbed against the hard bulge on his belly. She should not have explored the hard flesh of his back, cupped his nape, raked his silken scalp. She should not have moaned.
Surely all these things would only encourage him.
He lifted his head and stared at her, an odd mixture of befuddlement and awe in his eyes. His tongue peeped out and dabbed at his lips, snagging her attention. Surely she didn't lean toward him in a mute plea for more.
Was she truly so weak?
Aye. She was.
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Contents
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
HANNAH AND THE HIGHLANDER
Copyright © 2015 by Sabrina York.
Excerpt from
Susana and the Scot
copyright © 2016 by Sabrina York.
All rights reserved.
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eISBN: 978-1-4668-7854-9
St. Martin's Paperbacks edition / September 2015
St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
