Free Highlander in Her Bed by Allie Mackay Page B

fingers like pure molten gold.
    Then, as if aware of her audience, she refastened her hairclip with a slowness surely meant to seduce. And she did her work well. Each careful movement of her fingers caused her skimpy, sheathlike top to ride upward, freeing glimpses of taut, creamy-looking skin. Saints, even the dimpled indentation of her navel popped into bold, wanton view!
    Alex groaned.
    Then he swore beneath his breath.
    Her clinging garments left little to the imagination. The thin black material of her top clung indecently to her breasts, clearly displaying their ripeness, while her skin-hugging hose drew attention to the sensuous curve of hips, her round and well-made bottom.
    The sweetest he'd e'er seen.
    At once, he recalled his quick peek at the luxuriant red curls between her thighs, how she'd inched her foot up her leg, giving him an ever-better view. Alex's heart began a slow beat and his mouth went dry, his entire body tightening.
    A condition he refused to acknowledge.
    He'd sooner suffer a second death than admit the MacDougall bawd enflamed his desire.
    Blessedly, a hearty chuckle cooled his ardor.
    "Hah, Douglas—you letch!" Hardwick thwacked him on the shoulder. "Your need is writ all o'er you. Mayhap now you'll answer my question?"
    Ignoring him, Alex peered over the edge of the parapet, watched the lass reach the bottom of the steps. He waited until she disappeared behind a bend in the cliff before he turned to face his friend.
    So soon as he did, he folded his arms and summoned his fiercest scowl. He knew exactly what question Hardwick had in mind and he wasn't about to answer it.
    Not even to himself.
    "Do not think your silence fools me." Hardwick looked amused. "Too many are the lasses we've shared. Yet ne'er have you begrudged me the pleasure of gazing on the bared bosom of a comely wench."
    Alex stiffened. "So?"
    Hardwick's face lit with mirth. "Indeed, 'tis more than naked breasts we've feasted upon together."
    Alex pressed his lips in a hard, tight line.
    His friend howled with laughter.
    "You have turned into a jester," Alex flashed. "And your tongue runs more than an old woman's."
    Ignoring the barbs, Hardwick hitched his hip on a merlon. "Do not fear I'll pluck your sweet bloom e'er you admit to wanting her," he said, studying his knuckles. " 'Tis raven-haired wenches I find that I fancy these days. Even so, a tumble with—"
    "The only tumble you shall take is from your perch on that wall if you do not stop spouting such foolish prattle."
    "Prattle?" Hardwick stood, brushed at his snug-fitting hose. "Since you are in such a foul temper, I shall take my leave."
    Alex nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
    " 'Tis good that you watch the sea, my friend." Hardwick clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, all merriment gone. "Do not let the chit linger too long along the shore. The tides here are treacherous. Especially if she's caught unaware."
    Alex could feel his color heightening, the neck opening of his collar growing tight. "It would simplify my task if the waves did carry her away."
    "And which task might that be?" Jollity once more tinged Hardwick's words. "Keeping her from your precious bed… or getting her into it?"
    In the split second it took Alex to think of a scathing reply, his friend vanished. Where a moment before, Hardwick's firm grasp had warmed his shoulder, he now felt only the chill caress of a brisk sea wind.
    But Hardwick's taunts echoed in his mind as he glared at the jagged rocks far below, watched the long, white-topped rollers crashing against them. He shuddered, rammed a hand through his wind-tangled hair.
    Was it his imagination, or Hardwick's warning, or did the seaweed-strewn band of rocks along the cliff base appear much narrower than moments before?
    And why didn't the MacDougall temptress come back up? Did she not know how dangerous it was down there once the tide came in? Where had she gone anyway? Even her dog was whimpering now, pacing the battlements in agitation.