Free Highlander's Captive by Donna Fletcher Page A

Princess,” he said with a gallant bow before turning his back to her, “though if you need any help…”
    She gave up on telling him not to call her Princess. Besides, it was beginning to sound more an endearment than an insult.
    “I will do just fine,” she assured him, then took a look at her torn grey wool dress.
    She slipped it on relishing the warmth, though not for long since she realized after fussing with it that the tear down the middle had rendered it useless. “Now what?” she said aloud without realizing it.
    Torr turned, and she grabbed the ripped wool to hold it closed as he approached her.
    “The tunic will cover it,” Torr said, and shook his head, “though the dress will remain open beneath and will not keep you warm enough.”
    He rubbed his chin, thinking and admiring the bulge of her breasts where her hands gripped the material closed. He couldn’t help but recall the feel of them and gave his head a quick shake. That was not something he needed to be thinking about right now, especially since it was beginning to grow him hard.
    “A plaid,” he said with relief. “We’ll wrap one of the plaids around your midsection and with your tunic over it that should serve to keep you sufficiently warm.”
    With the fire behind her and Torr in front of her, she was presently more than sufficiently warm. It seemed all he had to do was stand close to her and her body got hot and tingly. And worst of all, she was beginning to like the tingles, look forward to them, and grow ever more curious about them. Could the sensation really be as wicked as the nuns had warned about?
    “That is a dangerous way to look at me,” he whispered harshly, his face close to hers.
    “What way?” she asked, not realizing she was looking any particular way at him.
    “As if you want to devour me.”
    “I do ,” she thought, though she heard the words all too clearly and realized she had said them aloud.
    “Your choice, Princess,” he said and lowered his lips to hers.
    She did not think about it. She met his lips and the tingles running through her sparked a burst that consumed her entire body and kept her lips hungry on his.
    Virginal, eager, excited. That was how she kissed him and damn if it wasn’t the most delicious kiss he had ever tasted. He let her have her way, though he guided until his patience, or more so their need, grew too great, and then he took control. He slipped his hand down along her back to cup her backside and press her against him. He then urged her up against his hard arousal as his tongue penetrated her mouth and kissed her senseless.
    Wintra thought she would die from the sheer pleasure that continued to grow and devour her all at once. She had startled when his tongue had entered her mouth and at first she thought it wicked and she should not allow it, but the pleasure it brought chased away her doubts and fears. Never— never —had she ever thought a kiss could be so delicious or that she would not want it to ever end.
    Damn, he would have her on the bed and be inside her in no time if he did not stop kissing her. But damn if she wasn’t intoxicating. One taste would never be enough, two might not be either, forget three, he did not want to ever stop kissing her.
    A whip of wind against the door tore them apart and sent Wintra’s stomach roiling in fright. Her hand released the material and pressed at her stomach, and she shivered.
    Torr reached out and with a firm arm around her waist to keep her close and a hand to her ripped garment to try and keep it closed, he tucked her against his side.
    Before she could snuggle even closer against him, the door burst open.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Owen stood there, his eyes quickly taking in the scene and growing ever wider with anger. “Get your hands off her you wretched beast.”
    Before either of them could say a word, Owen stepped aside and four warriors hurried in, though there was barely room for them. Torr shoved Wintra away from him,