Claire Delacroix by The Last Highlander Page B

then, my lady? Hale and hearty?”
    His protective concern was the icing on the cake. No one other than Justine and Auntie Gillian had ever been so concerned for Morgan’s welfare. Certainly, no one had ever saved her from thugs.
    “Yes.” Her voice was breathy, like some silver screen movie star. “I’m just fine.”
    “Good.” Alasdair nodded emphatically and started to step away.
    It was Morgan’s last chance.
    Before she could lose her nerve, she stretched to her toes. Alasdair froze, obviously uncertain of what she meant to do. Morgan paused, a finger’s breath from his firm lips and looked into those blue, blue eyes.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, then kissed him.
    Morgan had been thinking of just brushing her lips across his, sort of a sisterly buss of affection, but Alasdair evidently had different ideas. He stiffened for just a moment, as though surprised, then made a quick recovery. He angled his mouth across Morgan’s and lifted her against him.
    Possessive, passionate and powerful.
    Perfect.
    Some of that tentativeness lingered in in his touch, reassuring Morgan that she could rebuff him – if she wanted to. She melted at that certainty and wound her arms around his neck.
    And he deepened his kiss.
    Morgan’s imagination hadn’t begun to do Alasdair’s kiss justice.
    Her eyes closed in pleasure as Alasdair’s one hand cupped her buttock and the other cradled her shoulder. Her lips parted of their own accord, and the sleek heat of Alasdair’s tongue slid between her teeth.
    The whistles Morgan had heard earlier were nothing compared to the ones echoing around them now.
    But Alasdair tasted so good that she didn’t care. Her arms twined around his sturdy neck, her fingers taking note of the muscled strength of his shoulders before tangling in the thick hair at his nape. Morgan could feel the thunder of his heart against her own as his kiss became more demanding.
    Alasdair wanted her. Her . Morgan’s skin heated, and the tingle of desire in her belly grew to a roar. She wanted to wrap her legs around Alasdair and drag him back to her lair.
    And ravish him all night long. Alasdair had unlocked a barricaded door, setting ten years of pent-up desire free.
    Morgan didn’t want to cage it again.
    Alasdair must have been thinking along the same lines. He lifted his lips from hers, and his sapphire gaze clung to hers for an electric moment.
    Then he swung her up into his arms and began to stride through the crowd.
    And Morgan had a moment to think.
    What on earth was she doing?
    How could she have forgotten what Alasdair had done?
     
    * * *
     
    Chapter Five
     
    The sorceress changed mood faster than an autumn sky. No sooner had Alasdair acknowledged the not-unpleasant feeling of having her nestled in his arms, than she twisted and fought his grip like a wild thing.
    “Put me down!” she demanded.
    Only then did Alasdair realize his own foolhardiness. He had lost himself in Morgaine le Fee’s kiss! He was seven kinds of fool to be so careless with his own fate.
    The enchantress did not need to repeat her request. Alasdair dumped her on her feet without ceremony and backed away. He wiped the taste of her kiss from his burning lips with the back of his hand and surveyed her warily.
    What witchery had she cast over him?
    Morgaine looked as distressed as Alasdair felt. Her cheeks were flushed in a most attractive way; her eyes were flashing; her hair was tangled.
    And her lips were temptingly swollen. Anger rose hot within Alasdair that he had been so readily tricked.
    “How dare you touch me?”
    “I touch you ?” Alasdair retorted. “You were the one as pressed yourself upon me!”
    “You were the one who took more than was offered!” the lady fired back, shaking an indignant finger. “I was only going to give you a peck of appreciation....”
    Alasdair folded his arms across his chest and glowered at her. He refused to think about the fire this one would start when she meant to kiss a man