Page 5 of What a Highlander’s Got to Do

She smiled back, but with a hint of restraint. It was an odd feeling cloaking her shoulders. Restraint was hardly her forte. “Please do.”

He nodded and she tried to ignore the curl that flopped onto his forehead as he turned and trotted down the bank.

With a sigh of regret, she took the reins of Lord Willouby’s stallion and mounted. Best be gone before he returned or she might be tempted to give him what he wanted.

She wanted it, too, which was stupid.

She was here for a few weeks while she waited for the various arms of her family to collect here, and then they would make the long trip down to London for a miserable Season. There was no time for a romance, and certainly not one with a farm boy. Not even one as handsome as he.

Though she had to admit, she was tempted.

She kicked the stallion into motion and began riding back the way she’d come.

What a pity.

She would have liked a kiss. Just one. She would have liked to know if he tasted as delicious as she imagined. She would have liked to have a story to tell Catriona, one that didn’t end with her plunging to her death into the River of the Broken Bridge.

She should have known he would follow.

She heard the hoofbeats behind her and urged her stallion on, bending low on his neck and whispering encouragement.

Her heart pounded.

She knew he would catch her.

He had before.

But still, she persevered.

She had no idea why she smiled. No idea why her soul sang.

No idea why, when he caught her, swooping her up into his arms and onto his lap, she laughed.

No idea why she smiled as he cupped her face with his still-damp hands and stared at her lips like a starving man.

No idea why, when his lips touched hers, fragrant and soft and oh-so-sweet, she sank into the kiss with all she had.

Or perhaps she did have an idea after all.

Chapter Two

God, she was sweet.

Nick Wyeth pulled the lass closer and opened his mouth on hers, allowing her scent to sink into him like a river. It filled him up, suffused him, transported him.

He nearly forgot they were sitting astride Boomer, which could have been disastrous, indeed.

Fortunately, he was able to keep some fraction of his sanity.

He shifted her gently, so she faced him more fully, and he deepened the kiss, exploring the velvet cave of her mouth.

Had he ever tasted a woman so divine? Had he ever been so frantic for a kiss?

From the moment he set eyes on her, that angel in distress, on a runaway horse, pounding toward perdition, his blood, his body, had gone on point.

The pursuit had enraged the beast within him. It had seemed, almost, that she was trying to outrun him, which had inflamed him more.

And then, when he’d saved her—and she’d plowed her elbow into his gut, so close to other tender parts—he’d been stunned. But not as stunned as he’d been when he stood and saw her full-on for the first time.