Tempted by the Highland Warrior by Michelle Willingham Page A

her.
    Her tongue slid against his in a caress, and he took her
deeper, letting the kiss turn hotter. He burned for her, body and soul. The
water lapped against her skin the way he wanted to touch every inch of her. She
reached up to his neck, holding on for balance while her eyes closed.
    I want to be on top of you, your skin
beneath mine.
    His hands came under her knees, catching her before she could
slide under. Against her breasts, the wet fabric of her chemise clung to her
nipples, making them tight and hard. He imagined moving his mouth down to taste
her, swirling his tongue on her until she moaned with need.
    She held on to him, turning in the water with her arms around
his neck. The water was too deep for her to stand, so she moved her body against
his, her cool skin pressing upon him. Instinct made him want to lift her hips,
wrapping her slender legs around his waist until he could penetrate her in one
stroke.
    She was watching him with sudden awareness, her mouth softening
as she studied him. ‘Callum?’ she whispered. It was both a question and a
plea.
    He couldn’t. Not now, not when she didn’t know what she asked
of him.
    Instead, he strode back into shallow water, bringing her back
until she stood waist-high in the depths. He broke from the kiss and dove away
from her, his body slicing through the water in smooth strokes.
    The physical exertion was what he needed right now, the driving
need to punish himself. She was innocent and didn’t understand what he wanted
from her.
    His arms broke through the water, swimming hard as if to run
away from the man he was.
    You’re unworthy , the voice taunted. She’s far too good for you.
    He swam endless laps, the water so cold it numbed him from
inside. When at last he returned to her, Marguerite stood upon the shore,
shivering. On her face, he saw worry.
    ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she called out.
    He strode through the water, heedless of the droplets rolling
down him. No, this was his fault. His feet sank into the sand as he walked
closer.
    She didn’t understand the effect she had upon him, but he
wanted to reassure her that he’d regained his grip on sanity. When he stood
before her, he reached out to a wet lock of her hair and smoothed it over one
ear. He let his eyes speak for him, while his palm rested against her cheek.
    It’s not your fault. Never
yours.
    She watched him, her blue eyes worried, but her hand reached up
to cover his. ‘I know it’s cold,’ she murmured, ‘but will you take me back into
the water? Just for a little while?’
    Callum eyed her and acquiesced, though he was freezing. He
strode into the loch and led her with him. When Marguerite reached the deeper
water, he moved her to her stomach. His arms balanced beneath her breasts and
legs, lifting her to the top of the water.
    ‘Don’t let me fall,’ she warned.
    He shook his head and she tilted her head to look at him. The
feeling of her slender body in his arms was a gift and he tightened his hold to
reassure her.
    Never.
    Callum adjusted the position of her body, holding her with one
arm while he showed her how to move her arms. Marguerite tried to swim as he
had, but didn’t know how to kick her legs.
    He reached out to her thighs, opening them slightly as he
guided one leg up and down in a fluttering motion. Her skin was cool and firm in
his hands. But when he reached to guide her other leg, her face went down into
the water. Instantly, he lifted her up and she coughed, holding him tight as she
stood up.
    ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘I should have been moving my
arms, but when my face went under, I was too frightened.’
    He smoothed back the hair that had escaped from her braid, his
hands upon her cheeks. Don’t be afraid.
    Her answer was to cling to him, resting her cheek against his
chest. He embraced her and the ache inside him spread deeper.
    ‘I don’t know what’s happening between us,’ she whispered. ‘And
I know I shouldn’t come to you when