Page 53 of The Laird's Masked Passion

“Give me me wish,” he murmured.

The command was soft. That made it no less a command. She ought to have refused simply because he had expected obedience. She ought to have laughed and told him to go kiss his own reflection in the loch, as he seemed overly fond of himself. She ought, at the very least, to have moved the dirk between them.

Instead, she heard herself say, “One kiss.”

His thumb brushed lightly along her jaw. “One.”

“And nay barbaric liberties.”

His mouth curved. “Define them.”

“Colin.”

“There it is again.”

“What?”

“Me name, as if ye are scolding it intae behaving.”

“Iamscolding ye intae behaving.”

“Nay.” He leaned closer. “Ye are delaying.”

Her reply vanished because his mouth found hers. It was not like the kiss in the cathedral. That had been sudden, public, and outrageous, a claim sealed in front of God, her father, and far too many strangers. This was slower, worse for being private and worse because he did not seize so much as invite, and Elspeth, to her everlasting shame, answered before she remembered she meant to resist.

His lips moved over hers with a patience that unsettled her. They were firm, warm, coaxing. One hand remained at her chin, and the other came to rest at her waist, not pulling yet, only holding. She could have stepped away. She did not.

The thought made heat unfurl low in her belly. Colin tilted her face and deepened the kiss. Elspeth made a small sound. The instant it escaped, she wished to chase it down and murder it.

Colin heard. The hand at her waist tightened, drawing her nearer until her skirts brushed his legs and her body learned, in one shocking rush, the shape of his hard chest, broad shoulders, and strength held carefully enough to be more dangerous than force.

She lifted one hand to push him away. It landed against his chest. Then, it remained there. His heart was beating beneathher palm, steady and strong, while hers behaved like a panicked bird in a cage. He kissed her until thought blurred at the edges, until the garden, the wager, the blade in her hand, all became distant things belonging to some other woman with better sense.

Then his mouth left hers only to move along her cheek.

“Elspeth,” he murmured.

Her eyes opened halfway. She had no memory of closing them.

“This is enough,” she whispered, though she did not know whether she meant for him or for herself.

“Is it?”

“Aye.”

“Then let go of me.”

She looked down. Her fist had gathered the front of his shirt. With great horror, she released it at once. Colin’s eyes gleamed.

“I was steadying meself,” she pouted.

“Were ye falling?”

“I might have been.”

“Against a tree?”

“One never kens when trees may shift.”