The MacKinnon's Bride by Tanya Anne Crosby

founded grievance. And yet... he didn’t intend to stay awake
all night guarding the troublesome wench. Her chin lifted and she
held his gaze, her eyes burning with indignation and ire.
    “ I’m no animal to be kept
fettered!” she persisted.
    “ Nay,” Iain agreed, “you
are not, lass.” He sighed. “Verra well.” He leaned forward and
reached about her, stretching his body across hers as he groped
blindly around the tree for the ropes at her wrists.
    It was a mistake, he realized. He should
have gone around her. Certainly it would have been the sensible
thing to do.
    As it was, he found himself embracing her,
his chin resting upon her shoulder and his lips too near the warmth
of her neck. Her gasp was almost inaudible. He felt it more than
heard it, and then she went wholly still beneath him.
    Iain, too, froze, utterly aware of the woman
within his arms.
    Christ, but it had been much too long since
he’d been this close to any female... He could feel the peaks of
her breasts rise with her breath, teasing his chest and his
physical reaction was immediate. It was all he could do not to lean
into her, inhale the essence of her—that glorious scent that was
purely female and wholly intoxicating.
    He had to remind himself who she was—who he
was—that they were not alone.
    And still he couldn’t help himself; he
lowered his body in an effort to reach the bindings and leaned into
her. Trying for a lighthearted tone, he asked, “You’re no’ busy
planning your escape, are ye, lass?”
    She said nothing, and he persisted, though
he hadn’t the least notion why he should care. “Promise me you’ll
no’ try to escape.” His hands arrested at her back, awaiting her
response.
    For an instant longer, she said nothing, and
then she asked, “If I cannot promise? Will you still release
me?”
    So she was a woman of her word, was she?
    Iain smiled.
    He didn’t know why he felt driven to protect
her, but he knew with a certainty that he’d not let her go. “Nay,
lass,” he whispered against her hair, nudging it away from his face
with his chin. A few strands stuck to his lips, and he tasted them,
closing his eyes as he imagined the silky curtain unbound and
cascading into his face as she rode him. The scent of her taunted
him, aroused him to the point of pain. The image made him shudder.
God, but she was an innocent not to know how she could affect a
man... how she affected him. “I’ll not,” he murmured, clearing his
throat. “I’ll not release you if you cannot promise.”
    Though he knew it was impossible, she seemed
to shrink away from him, into the ground beneath him. “In such
case,” she answered, somewhat breathlessly, and more than a little
flippantly, “I promise not to try!”
    He smiled at her cunning. “You promise not
to try?” he repeated, disbelieving her audacity.
    “ I believe ‘tis what I
said, Scot!”
    He couldn’t see her face, but imagined her
saucy expression, and chuckled. He nudged aside her hair with his
lips, and whispered against her ear, “Swear you’ll not escape.”
    She made some keening sound as he brushed
her neck with his mouth and wrenched herself away. “Very well,
Scot! I’ll not steal away! Untie me now!”
    He chuckled.
    “ Get yourself off me!” she
demanded. “I cannot bear for you to touch me!”
    Iain smiled, for her quiver gave lie to her
avowal. She was affected by him no less than he was by her. He’d
wager his eyeteeth over it.
    Still she sounded quite desperate, and he
didn’t wish to upset her any more than she was already. “You’ll
keep your word?” he persisted.
    He imagined that she rolled her eyes, and
his smile deepened, as she said more than a little acerbically, “To
the man who broke faith with my father? Certainly! Now get
off!”
    He chuckled at her quick wit. “Ye’ve a
point,” he ceded, and began at once to untie the bindings at her
wrists. “Never mind, I believe I know the perfect solution.”
    “ You do?”
    He