When a Laird Takes a Lady: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel by Rowan Keats Page B

indulgence. He placed her hand on his chest, just above his heart. “Know this. Never, no matter how angry my words or how furious my stance, will I do harm to a woman,” he said. “If ever you need to know that you are safe in my presence, simply place your hand here and push. You have my word that I will back away.”
    He let his hand drop. Hers remained on his chest.
    With their gazes locked, he pressed lightly forward, encouraging her to test his vow.
    And she did. She pushed.
    Aiden stepped back. “I am a passionate man, lass. I’ve been known to shake the rafters with the sounds of my fury. But I’ve never lifted a hand to a woman, and I’ll not start now. You possessinformation that I am determined to get, but I can assure you that my methods will never include beating it out of you. Understand?”
    She nodded, her eyes meeting his more easily.
    With her fear contained and her trembles calmed, Isabail’s pale face regained its ethereal beauty. Smooth skin the color of milk, long-lashed eyes that rivaled the woodland bluebell, and rosy lips that begged to be kissed. What was not to admire? The desire that sang through his veins came as natural as breathing.
    He took her chin lightly in hand, rubbing his thumb over the silky softness of her flesh.
    “Lovely,” he said.
    She flushed but did not draw back. Nor did she attempt to push him away.
    “I’ve traveled the length and breadth of Scotland and met many a lass, but none as bonny as you,” he admitted. One or two had come close, including his once-betrothed, Fiona MacDonald. But Isabail’s silvery blond hair and blue eyes charmed him in a way none of the others had. Of course, those other lasses had not given him near as much trouble, either.
    He shifted the path of his thumb upward, across the velvet texture of her lips.
    As he tugged on her bottom lip, a gentle sigh escaped her mouth. The sound made his pulse pound and his head spin. Up until that moment, he’d fully intended to pull away, to let the tension between them ebb and the passage of time addstrength to her trust in him. But that sigh was so full of promise, so sweetly encouraging, he could only bow to it.
    With excruciating slowness, giving her every opportunity to halt him, he lowered his mouth toward hers. A hairbreadth away, he stopped, needing to be certain. Breathing deep of her sweetly feminine scent, he found her hand and placed it upon his chest once more. One push and he would be gone. She had to know that.
    To his relief, she did not push. Her hand slipped up and around his neck. It was an invitation he could not refuse—on an indrawn breath, he captured the petal-soft curve of her lips.
    Sweet
. So unbelievably sweet.
    A deep groan rose in his throat as he leaned in to her body. Soft flesh met his hard grind, and it was enough to send his blood searing through his veins in a glorious burn of desire. After all the hours she’d spent in his arms on the long journey to Dunstoras, there was a sense of familiarity—of rightness—that came over him as he gathered her close.
    She responded by tipping her head to accept his kisses.
    And as swiftly as that, all resentment toward her died. What her brother had done to him was not Isabail’s doing. She might be a tad arrogant and finer than an Englishwoman in her linen smallclothes, but she was also intelligent, persevering, and loyal. Despite all the challenges he’dthrown her way, she’d proven herself a stalwart champion of her maid, her brother, and even herself. She was incredible.
    He deepened the kiss, burying his fingers in the silken strands of her blond hair and taking all that she had to offer.
    For the moment, the lady was his.

Chapter 6
    H is kisses were neither sweet nor gentle. They were a fierce attack on Isabail’s senses. Every press of his body against hers sent a thousand tiny tremors racing through her. The fear she’d felt only moments ago was gone—banished by the knowledge that he would stop if she but