The Curse of Clan Ross by L. L. Muir Page B

urge to pull herself against him, and she savored the seconds until the kiss would end.
    But it didn’t end.
    He took a step into her, pressing his body forward, causing her to turn to face him. A second later her attention rested again on their unbreakable kiss. After a deep breath, he moved again and she felt like they were dancing; his lips held hers, his right hand remained on the back of her head, his left was at her waist. Her hands rested on his chest and her feet had a mind of their own. She opened her eyes to find his closed and she wondered, as she allowed her lids to fall, who was going to watch where they were going?  
    He led. She followed beautifully...until they reached the bed.
    Jilly was finally able and willing to stop his momentum and pushed back long enough to get her boots beneath her. Reluctantly, she eased her mouth from his, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of the right thing to say. She only knew that she had no intention of lying down with the half-dressed Scotsman since before this morning he had never shown much romantic interest in her. Jilly was probably little more than the tourist on today’s menu and it was that insult which gave her the energy to fight her racing hormones. She wanted to set aside today’s chemistry lesson to examine later, along with everything else she wasn’t ready to know.
    Reality, however, was ready now, nudging its way into her misty mind; he was probably trying any means possible to keep her from suing his ass.
    “Are ye married?” he whispered, bending to press his warm, soft mouth against her neck.
    “No,” she said clearly, answering more than his marriage question and trying to banish the chills that made her want to curl up like a cat. At least he should have understood her meaning when she put all her muscle into shoving at his knotted shoulders.
    He was as immoveable as the statue in the Great Hall, but she did manage to get her carotid out of reach of his teeth.
    “Then I claim ye.”
    If it weren’t for the authority in his voice, she would have laughed. He sounded dead serious and she would have to make a dead serious effort to get out of his arms.
    Now, being raised in Wyoming did not mean she had lived a backward life, but Jilly had to admit she had, on more than one occasion, chased a greased pig and ridden an uncooperative animal or two. Little did she see them as life skills, but the agility from such experiences came to her aid now, only this time she played the part of the greased pig.
    When Laird Ross lifted his left arm to get a better hold, she swung on it like a trapeze bar and escaped to his side. Then, making the most of her momentum, she spun and pushed him face first on the bed.
    He bounced once before flipping onto his back. Fortunately he stayed there, propped on his elbows. Apparently his laughter sapped all his strength.
    Warily, Jilly shuffled backward, waiting for the next attack.
    “I fear ye’re opposed to me claim, English,” he said, “but ye’d best get comfortable with it. I’ve set me mind, aye?” He waved a hand impatiently between them. “Just what is yer name, lass?  The word “English” does no’ sit lightly on me tongue.”
    “Very funny, Mr. Ross.”
    “Laird,” he growled.
    “Oh, really?  Are you truly the laird of the Ross Clan, or do you just use the title for the tourists?”
    Amazing how fast a man could cover a ten-foot distance. He had her back against the wall without even touching her.
    “I dinna ken ‘tourists’, but I know an insult when I hear it.” His voice was deceptively quiet, and for the first time since meeting the man she believed him capable of violence.
    Touchy subject. Got it.
    But she was a bit touchy too. Had she no right to be?  Had she not gone through Hell, and all because of her name?  Her blood?
    “Well, the old man can’t remember my name. Imagine that,” she jeered. In truth, he looked much younger than when they’d first met. She had guessed