Laurie opened her eyes a crack. Her head pounded, her pulse raced. This wasn’t good. Those couldn’t be two, huge, leather-clad feet inches from her face.
She opened her eyes wider. Raised her gaze higher. Those feet—the ones that couldn’t be there—was it possible they were attached to two muscular calves wrapped in soft napped animal skins?
Higher still. Bare knees. Plaid wool and saffron linen.
Farther up, she took in all of the man who towered over her. Piercing blue eyes blinked. Crinkles appeared in the corners. He was grinning. Not outwardly. The perfectly shaped lips remained tight and straight. But something within this gorgeous man was pleased.
She gasped with recognition. This was her man, the one from her heated dreams and visions. The man she didn’t believe existed. The man who made her insides flip-flop.
Unsure what had just happened, she gave her head a firm shake. Mistake. Dizziness hit in waves. She swallowed hard. When the nausea passed, she pushed her palms against the ground and rose to her feet. Unsteady, she swayed. The stranger’s image blurred.
Large calloused hands gripped her arms. A strange though familiar jolt of energy coursed through her, causing her heart to beat too fast. He quickly released her.
He must have felt it too.
Again, she swayed. Laurie reached for his support at the same time he took hold of her upper arms.
She blinked to clear her vision and moistened dry lips. The flash of desire in his eyes made her shiver. He smiled for real this time, leaned forward, placed a hand behind her head, and brushed her lips with his. Gentle at first, then with vigor, his tongue delved into her mouth.
Instinct insisted she struggle. Holding her body rigid, she fisted her hands, which he’d trapped within his embrace. She forced her fingers open and pressed her palms against his hard chest—a vain attempt to push him away.
The current flowing between them became overpoweringly seductive. No man had made her feel this way before. For several moments, she wavered between fighting him—a familiar stranger—and succumbing to the delicious sensations swamping her. He deepened the kiss, and the internal battle ended. Desire won. She clasped hold of the front of his shirt with shaky hands and kissed him back with pent-up passion.
Satiny lips anchored her in a storm of unfamiliar sensation. Pleasure vibrated along her body. She opened her eyes a slit. The intensity of the man’s shocking kiss matched the masculine power burning in his startling blue eyes.
His grip tightened. His fingers burned through her clothing, searing her skin. She closed her eyes and sank into the reality of her dream lover’s embrace.
Patrick closed his eyes and growled deep in his throat as desire pooled in his groin. Their kiss, potent and deep, an intoxicating aphrodisiac, became more and more heated. At first, he’d been shocked by the arc of power, but he couldn’t stop himself from claiming what he sensed belonged to him. What started as an unconscious display of dominance became a much more meaningful symbol of possession.
His forceful kiss demanded surrender.
She melted against him, and he savored his victory as her response matched his passion. He stroked and caressed her soft curves. Her well-rounded backside fit perfectly into his large hands as if God made her for him. He dragged his lips away from hers for only a moment, grasped a firm hold of her buttocks, and lifted her off the ground. The movement released her hands from the prison within his arms.
She curled her arms around his neck when he repositioned her against his length.
He held her tight against his chest, molding her to the contours of his body. A stranger—he’d never wanted anyone more. The proof of his unrestrained arousal was the hard pressure intimately pressed against the juncture of her thighs. Was she as shocked by his ardor as he? Rational thought disappeared when he rubbed against the lass.
She rubbed back, proving she enjoyed the connection too. A gasp escaped her soft lips. Patrick took her sweet breath into his mouth and released a moan of his own.
Tantalizing pleasure pulsed through his veins. His erection hardened. He wanted the lass in ways he couldn’t comprehend. He felt her nipples tighten into hard buds through the linen of the leine. His need grew rock hard, almost painful, as he captured her mouth again, relishing her unique flavor, inhaling her intoxicating scent. Cinnamon and wine and roses.
A twig snapped nearby, and he jerked his eyes open to the sight of his cousin stepping from the trees. The warrior cleared his throat.
The lass came to herself at the same time, and froze. Patrick reluctantly ended the kiss, stepped back, but held her steady. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. Hers shone with confusion, fear and desire mingling with the passionate heat still flowing between them. He didn’t want to acknowledge what his eyes must reveal.
Again, Stephen cleared his throat.
The powerful surge of energy dissolved, and Patrick released the lass and took another step back. Although he refused to show it, the experience shook him. Somehow, in the deepest elemental part of his soul, he knew she belonged to him. He’d instinctively branded her with his bold kiss, staking his claim.
“You followed me. Why?” He glared at his cousin.
“To guard your back, you dolt. Elspeth is worried. You have been acting odd.” A smirk curved his lips. “I see ’twas a lass that had you a wandering. Are you bewitched then?”
Patrick uttered a loud, “Humph,” and glanced at the delectable lass.
Slower to recover, she raised a trembling hand to swollen lips. His blood ran heavy and his cock jerked within the folds of his plaide.
“The lass is a wee bit befuddled from your ardor, Patrick,” Stephen said, still grinning. “Is this your vanishing lass then? The one from your visions?”
Her cheeks flushed a lovely crimson before she lowered her gaze to the ground. When she glanced at him again, Patrick ran an unsteady hand over his hair. With a great deal of effort, he forced a blank expression to his face. A beam of moonlight cast a glow over her curvaceous form. He studied her, raking her with his eyes. Starting with the glorious mass of golden hair pinned atop her head, moving downward, lingering for a moment on blue eyes filled with fear and perhaps a spark of defiance.
He slid his gaze farther downward until it reached her toes. He took in everything, missing naught, including the plaide wrapped around her shoulders clasped by a familiar brooch, the fabric clutched in a death grip by a delicate hand with elegant fingers, beautiful, unusual, enticing, each nail the color of oyster shells. He clearly imagined the sensual sensation of those fingernails grazing across his bare chest and other more sensitive skin.
He shivered and his breathing quickened. His heart thudded hard against his ribs as his body tightened more with desire. He fought for control. “A bheil Gaidhlig agad?”
The lass stared at him, opened her mouth as if to speak, and shut it again. He narrowed his eyes.
She blinked. “What did you say?”
Sassenach. She spoke the damn English tongue. And poorly. He tasted bitter disappointment. “Who are you, lass? What are you doing in this wood alone? Where is your escort?” He switched to the language of the Lowlands.
“Could this be a trap? Ambush?” Stephen pulled a knife from his boot, his gaze searching the surrounding area.
Patrick ignored him and returned his attention to the lass. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sharp-edged blade. He pushed her behind him while keeping hold of her arm and responded to Stephen in Gaelic. “Munn believes the lass not to be a threat.”
Laurie’s body thrummed, taut with desire not sated. She swallowed hard and tried to pull out of the man’s grasp, but failed.
The now-familiar pressure of his grip no longer frightened her. She understood in the depth of her soul the man who kissed her with such tender passion would never physically harm her. Still, panic hovered too close for comfort. How had she gotten here?
No longer was she in the woods near her cottage and garden. Instead, she stood at the edge of a dark, dense forest near what appeared to be a one-room timber hut with a dilapidated thatched roof.
Who were these two men? Should she run? She didn’t believe she could escape, and the last thing she wanted to do was enrage the men.
“This isn’t Kansas,” she whispered under her breath.
The man, whose name must be Patrick, yanked her in front of him. “What is Kansas? Speak, lass. I command it.”
His aggressive attitude provoked her anger. She overcame her fear, pulled away and glared at him. Then turned to the other man. “Excuse me, sir, my name is Laurie Bernard. I’m confused, tired and frightened. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. I just want to return home. Can you help me? Please.”
She sneaked a peek at Patrick to gauge his reaction.
He clenched and unclenched his fingers, only to clench them again. He glared at the other man’s grinning face. Patrick seemed angry. Although the other man’s appearance unnerved her, she was glad he’d interrupted. How far would she have let things go had he not arrived? Her insides squirmed. She didn’t want to think about that.
Patrick motioned for the other man to leave. Laurie held her breath, afraid to be left alone with the man who’d kissed her with such hunger. What if he tried to kiss her again? Could she resist? She stood straighter. Of course, she wouldn’t permit it. He was a total stranger. She shouldn’t have allowed him to kiss her the first time.
The other man swept his gaze around the area seeming reluctant to leave. Finally, he whirled on his heel and entered a trail in the woods.
Patrick faced her. He moved closer. She stepped back.
She flicked a glance toward the trail the other man took. Should she follow him? Maybe he would help her find her way home. Probably not. She peered at Patrick through her lashes.
His jaw tightened and he took another step forward.
She bit her bottom lip but held her ground. They silently contemplated each other.
“This way, Mistress Laurie.” With his lips curved in a brittle smile, he grasped her by the elbow.” We go to the hall where we will unravel this puzzle. And I assure you, we will.”
Hall? She dug her heels in, pulling back. “Wait. I don’t know who you are.”
“Patrick MacLachlan of Clan MacLachlan, your humble servant.” He bent at the waist in an old fashioned, formal bow.
She snorted, and his eyes widened in disbelief. Laurie sucked back the urge to grin. “I don’t believe there’s a humble bone in your body and you are definitely no one’s servant.”
“Quite true. And you are nae innocent,” he taunted. “Do you throw yourself at every man you meet?”
Insulted, she opened her mouth to give him a good tongue-lashing, but he held up his hand, stopping her mid-breath. He ground his teeth, obviously working to suppress unwarranted irritation.
“There is something you need to understand, lass. I have claimed you as my own, with my cousin Stephen as my witness. I choose to believe you are an innocent and not a wanton. You belong to me now. If I ever find you with another man you will not enjoy the consequences.”
“How dare you! You don’t own me,” Laurie sputtered. She couldn’t believe the gall of the infuriating man.
“You became mine when you returned my kiss,” Patrick said.
“Are you for real?”
“Aye. Come this way.” He again took a firm hold on her elbow, daring her with hard eyes to ignore his command.
“Phiff.” She exhaled and jumped from the man’s grasp. “Why did you kiss me?”
His full lips slowly curved at the corners then widened into a devilish grin. Her mind turned to mush.
“I wanted to.”
The rumble from his chest did enticing things; low, in the core of her sex. With effort, she ignored the seductive sensation. “Do you always do whatever you want?”
Still smiling, he nodded. “Aye. Now come.”
“No.” Laurie met the challenge in his eyes.
He glanced at the darkening sky. She followed his gaze. Clouds moved in fast, dimming the brightness of the moon. “Suit yourself, lass.” He turned away and strode off into the woods.
Left alone in the dark was definitely not what she wanted. “Wait! I’m coming.”