Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) by May McGoldrick Page B

lips. “Drink this. We have no food, but this should quench your thirst.”
    She was the only thing that could quench what he was feeling. As he drank from the bowl, he felt her sleeve. “This is wet. Why are you still wearing it?”
    One eyebrow went up as she took the bowl away. Alexander watched with interest as she reached under her skirt and tore another strip from her shift, but not before he had a good view of the cream-colored skin of her legs. He imagined them wrapped around him.
    “Let me wash your wounds.”
    “And I’ll help you out of this wet dress.”
    “You must be dreaming.” Her voice had suddenly grown husky.
    “I
was
dreaming, and you were quite happy in my dreams. Sitting naked on my lap, riding me while I suckled your breasts. You couldn’t get enough of me.”
    Even in the dim light he could see the blush that crept into her cheeks.
    “This is no way to talk to me, you saucy ape.”
    “I think you like me the way I am.” He reached up and ran his finger along the silky softness of her neck. She didn’t pull back from his touch. He slipped an arm around her and brought her mouth to his. She immediately opened up to his kiss, and he felt his loins tighten.
    Too soon she drew back, breaking off the kiss. She dipped the cloth into the water again and gently dabbed at his side.
    “I want my wedding night, Kenna.”
    “You’re not going to get it. We’re going our separate ways once we reach Oban.”
    Leaning back, Alexander smiled. “Devil take me if we do.”
    He ran his fingers like a comb through her hair.
    “You’re distracting me,” she said, inching closer without moving her gaze from the wound.
    Alexander knew women. And right now he knew Kenna. He untied the top lace. He heard the breath catch in her throat.
    “Let me finish,” she whispered.
    “You just keep on with what you’re doing.” He pulled the next pair of laces free, and the next.
    She shifted her weight from one knee to the other. He saw her hand tremble as she dipped the cloth into the bowl again before placing it against his skin.
    “You forget I have a cut on my shoulder.”
    She moved closer to check, and Alexander caught her by the waist, drawing her near. Their gazes locked in a moment of challenge.
    “You lied to me.”
    “And I will lie again.” Alexander spread the neckline open until the tops of her breasts were exposed. She shivered as he trailed his fingers along her throat and chest, slipping his hand inside the fabric. He cupped one of her breasts, lifting it and stroking the hardening nipple with his thumb.
    A soft gasp escaped her. Her eyes were wide and uncertain as she stared at him. The wet cloth slipped out of her hand.
    “I’m not done cleaning the wound.”
    “I know,” he whispered back, kissing her neck. “I’m not done with you, either.”
    He pressed his lips to the top of each breast. He pushed the clothes down and suckled her nipple.
    She cried out his name, and her fingers gripped his hair.
    Alexander’s hand moved up her leg and beneath the dress. Her skin was like silk, her legs strong and smooth. His fingers reached the juncture of her legs, and she gasped again. She was moist, ready for him.
    “Wait,” she whispered.
    He stopped, hearing the same noise. He reached for his sword.
    Someone was coming.

    Twelve wagons, laden with boxes of abbey treasure, sat in a line on the river road, while sparks and glowing embers rose from the fiery structure, lighting up the night sky.
    “But Sir Ralph,” the duke of Hertford’s messenger stressed, following Evers and Maxwell down to the river’s edge. “His Grace sent me specifically to tell you that anything taken from the abbey was to be sent to him for shipment to His Majesty.”
    Maxwell watched Evers crouch by the slow
-
moving water, peeling his gloves off and washing blood and soot from his face. The monks had put up a good fight, but they didn’t have a chance once the invaders smelled blood.
    When it was over, Maxwell