To Marry A Scottish Laird by Lynsay Sands

best. My face is all swollen and bruised, my hair stuffed under my hat, and my clothes are not exactly flattering.”
    “Ye’re jesting, are ye no’?” he asked with disbelief. “Woman, ye’re wearing tight braies that do nothing but emphasize what a fine behind ye ha’e. As fer yer hair, while I can no’ see it now, I’ve seen it down and ken it’s there. And yer face grows better every day.”
    “Aye, but—”
    “I like ye, Jo,” he interrupted quietly. “I like talkin’ to ye, and travelin’ with ye. I like the way yer mind thinks, I like yer laugh, and I like ye as a person.” He shrugged helplessly. “It makes me want to hear ye laugh more, and find out what yer thinkin’, and it makes me want to strip yer clothes away one by one and sink me cock into yer warm wet body over and over and over again.”
    Joan stared at him wide-eyed, unconsciously licking her lips as his words bounced around inside her head, forming images that made butterflies flutter low in her belly.
    “But I ken I should no’,” he added solemnly, raising his hand to run one finger lightly over her lips in the trail left by her tongue. “And I shall try to behave meself fer the rest o’ the journey, but I must insist ye ride with me. Ye saved me life lass, and I’ll no’ make ye risk yers by travelin’ alone because ye’re afraid o’ me.”
    “I’m not afraid of you,” Joan admitted on a sigh as she turned her head away. “I’m afraid of myself. I don’t seem to be able to resist you and know I should. It seemed better to avoid the temptation than to fail again at resisting it.”
    “Well, I ha’e no’ helped with that. But from here on out, I’ll do me best to keep me hands to meself. Deal?” he asked.
    Joan glanced back to him, managed a smile and nodded.
    “Good,” he said and then urged his horse off the trail.
    “Where are we going now?” she asked with surprise.
    “Back to our camp. When I realized ye’d left, I mounted up and hurried after ye without thinkin’ to grab me bag or the pheasant.”
    Eyes widening, Joan glanced around, wondering how she could have missed that he’d turned back the way they’d come when he’d taken her up before him. Obviously, she’d been distracted, Joan thought, not really that surprised. The man had a powerful effect on her . . . and she knew she was foolish to give in and not continue on her own, but she just couldn’t seem to say no, slip off his mount and walk away.
    Joan rationalized it away by telling herself that it wouldn’t happen again, that now that they’d talked, they would resist the attraction they had for each other. But she knew that was a lie even as she thought it. If Cam kissed her, she would kiss back, and there was no doubt in her mind where it would go from there. She also knew that he would kiss her eventually. It might not be tonight, it might not even be tomorrow, but eventually, he’d kiss her and they’d both be lost again. She knew all of that, but it was easier to lie to herself so she did.
    “The pheasant is still here.”
    Jo glanced around as they rode into the clearing and noted the pheasant still over the fire, as well as his saddle bag beside the dead fire, but she merely nodded and slid off the horse as he brought it to a halt. Once on the ground, she simply stood there, unsure what to do. Were they staying, or just gathering the pheasant and bag and setting out?
    “We’ll stay here again tonight and set out at first light,” Cam announced as he dismounted and began to unsaddle his mount.
    Well that answered that, Jo thought wryly, but found herself staring at Cam as he worked. He hadn’t bothered with his shirt when he’d dressed to come after her. In fact, his plaid was merely wrapped around his waist rather than donned properly. It left his chest and back bare and she couldn’t seem to stop watching the play of muscles in his back as he worked. The man was a feast for the eyes.
    And this was going to be a very