MM03 - Saturday Mornings by Peggy Webb Page A

the wind.
     “Down you go, lady.”
    When he helped her off the horse, she kicked him in the shins.
    “Hey. What's that for?”
    “For kidnapping me and dragging me through the woods. For depriving me of my lover.”
    “Is that what this is all about? You're still bent on getting some man into your bed?”
    He unsaddled the stallion and began to rub him down with angry strokes.
    “Well, lady, I have news for you. You don't have to prove your desirability to strangers. You're all woman.”
    “Hooter thinks so. But then, he's all man.”
    Andrew didn't trust himself to answer as he led his stallion into the stall and latched the door. When he turned around, Margaret Leigh was in a fighting stance, her hands on her hips, her eyes bright, and her hair disheveled from the wild ride through the night.
    As he moved toward her, she backed as far as she could go, and then a pile of hay stopped her. He caught her around the waist.
    “He's all man, is he?” His voice was dangerously soft. “You thought he'd give you what you want, did you?”
    “How dare you touch me.” She tried to twist away.
    “I dare.” He leaned closer, bringing the scents of pine and leather and hay with him. “Is this what you want, Margaret Leigh?”
    When his mouth descended on hers, she locked her teeth together. But she was no match for him. His mouth was seductive, possessive, punishing. It was not a kiss; it was a conquest.
    And she surrendered. Against her will, she responded to the persuasive power of Andrew McGill.
    He knew the moment she surrendered. A chuckle started deep in his chest and, as it made its way up his throat, he lifted his head and turned it loose. His laughter, rich with humor and satisfaction, filled the big barn.
    “If you think that proves you're more man than Hooter, you're sadly mistaken.”
    “I'm far from finished, my love.”
    He took her lips again. She was embarrassed by the ease of her surrender. Every inch of her body was aware of him. His strength and power sizzled through her until she felt electrified.
    Was this what it felt like to want a man, really desire him? Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this assault by Andrew McGill. He made her forget her aunt’s awful secret.
    She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her body close to his. The tenor of his breathing changed, and he lowered her to the hay.
     

 
    Chapter Seven
    Through his fog of fury, Andrew rationalized what he was doing. He told himself that he was showing her teasing was dangerous. He convinced himself that he was seducing her so that she would know precisely what happened when she enticed men.
    Keeping his mouth locked on hers, he reached for her skirt. With one swift move he slid it up her legs. She sucked in her breath and a tremor ran through her. So far, so good, he thought. Let her know the consequences of her actions.
    He played his hands over her legs, and suddenly all his reasons changed. Pleasure surged through him. She had the soft satiny skin that he loved so well. She had the delicious curves that made his muscles tighten and his breathing heavy. And yet, she was more than seductive curves and soft skin. She was more than a sex object in the hay. With Margaret Leigh under him, acquiescent, he felt as if he'd never loved before. She made him believe that she was his first.
    That wouldn't do. He was teaching a lesson, not falling in love.
    With great effort, he separated his emotions from his actions.
    “Is this what you want, Margaret Leigh?”
    He slipped her coat off, then slid her zipper down with the expertness born of experience, at the same time pulling her dress down to her waist. His mouth skimmed down her throat and across one shoulder.
    “See how easy it is for a man, my love.”
    Suddenly she stiffened. “Is this an object lesson?”
    “Yes.” Andrew sat up and drew her dress back over her shoulders. She tried to twist away, but he held her fast, his face grim as he fastened