The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,6

spit out the word like throwing down a gauntlet.

Sutherland resettled his stance. Aye, he’d read the vixen correctly. The lady wouldn’t tolerate anyone thinking her fearful of anything. “Aye, m’lady. Afraid. We’re hardly unchaperoned. Yer father sits right here. What else could it be holding back yer gift of a proper kiss other than fear of me?”

“My own good sense and ensuring ye realize ye’ve not been forgiven for being such an arse!” She didn’t retreat, but nor did she step forward.

Chieftain Greyloch sidled around in his chair to improve his view, his grin stretching into a full-blown smile.

Sutherland held out a hand as though asking the lady to dance. “A genuine kiss to bind our bargain is just that, and I assure ye, m’lady, I know damn good and well ye’ve not forgiven me.” It took every ounce of control he possessed to keep from pulling her into his arms and crushing her against him. A groan almost escaped him at the sight of her wetting her lips. He refused to retreat. She would learn he was as stubborn as she.

It was when her eyes narrowed the slightest bit, and her jaw tightened that Sutherland knew he had won.

Lady Sorcha closed the space between them, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her curves against his hardness with daring tightness. Her lips brushed across his as she spoke, “Well? Get on with it then.”

He tangled his fingers in the braid at the base of her neck, tilted her back, and wrapped his other arm around her waist. With her locked closer, he took her mouth, pouring every ounce of frustration, desire, and admiration she had stirred within him into the kiss. She tasted of wine and the firm realization that one kiss from this rare woman would never be enough.

Her embrace tightened, and she opened her mouth wider, returning his ferocity. She inflamed him more than any woman ever had before. Hell’s fire, if she didn’t kill him with a pistol, she would surely kill him with the sheer obsession to possess her. Before he could stop, he groaned and pressed his hardened length into her softness even more.

Lady Sorcha broke the kiss. Pushing herself out of his arms, she straightened her clothes as well as her hair. “There, sir. Is that kiss a good enough seal to our bargain until proper documentation is available?”

“Aye, m’lady,” he managed to utter. “That kiss most definitely sealed everything.”

Chapter Two

If she had possessed any doubts, Sutherland’s kiss had vanquished them.

He was most definitely the one for her. A perfect choice as husband and father to her future children. But she had to manage this campaign wisely. Just because he lusted after her didn’t mean he would go so far as to ask her to take his name. She had to tempt him beyond reason without weakening in her own resolve in the process. If she gave in too quickly, he’d slip away like a fish stealing bait.

Sorcha drew in a deep breath and eased it out. Remain calm, calculating, and steadfast. Quite the monumental task after that kiss. She pressed her lips tighter together. Saints have mercy on her soul, if he kissed like that, what other fiery magic might he possess? Obviously, the rumors about the man’s talents with women were not exaggerated.

“Excuse me, m’lady. The seating at the chief’s table this evening?”

Sorcha snapped out of the delicious daze she had struggled with ever since the more than satisfying encounter in the library. “Masters MacCoinnich and de Gray to Da’s left,” she instructed Mrs. Finnia Breckenridge, Castle Greyloch’s housekeeper for as long as Sorcha could remember.

Mrs. Breckenridge wrinkled her long, narrow nose as though she smelled something foul. “And the other two?”

The other two. Lady Delyth Culane and her bullish son, Garthin Napier. They had been at the keep almost a month now, blaming the weather for keeping them at Castle Greyloch longer than planned. The weather had grown a sight more stable, but still, they hadn’t left. Sorcha gave a curt nod. “Master Napier at one end of the table and Lady Culane at the other.”

“As far from the chieftain and yerself as possible, aye?” murmured the astute housekeeper. “And shall we double the guard at yer father’s chamber door this evening? I received word the lady is most determined.”

“Aye, most definitely double the guard,” Sorcha agreed as they continued their inspection of the hall in preparation for the evening’s meal. “I, too, was told the woman attempted four