Free The Highlander's Choice by Callie Hutton Page A

supply. One minute he wanted to throttle her, the next take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. From the look on her face, her feelings ran along the same lines.
    “’Tis a verra smart woman, your mum.”
    She nodded and licked her lips. “I’ve always thought so.” Her eyelids drooped, and she gazed at his mouth.
    It was all the invitation he needed. He ducked his head and brought his lips to hers. Softly at first, until he felt her slight moan as she sagged in his arms. The warmth where their bodies joined seared him, the beat of his thumping heart drowning out all sound. He cupped the back of her neck and rubbed his thumb over her ear, his other hand on her lower back, tugging her closer to where he wanted them to join.
    He shifted his head to take the kiss deeper, prodding her lips until she opened for him. With a gasp, she wrapped her arms around his waist and stepped closer, her legs nestled between his spread ones. A few flicks of his finger and the rest of the pins in her hair hit the carpet, and he fisted both his hands in her thick locks.
    She was warm honey and sunshine, and smelled of flowers and woman. He devoured her mouth, slid his hands to her waist and lifted, settling her snug against his growing erection. Her increasing excitement spurred him to ease his hand around to the front of her body until he cupped her breast, amazed at the fullness, considering her wee size.
    What was it about this woman that tortured him so? He flicked his thumb over her nipple, which tightened and beaded even through her gown. How he’d like to place his lips there and run his tongue over her engorged tip. To suckle her until she begged for him to take her.
    He’d disliked everything English his entire life, and now he was caught in the web of an English lass. Nothing could come of this, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to stay away from the temptation she offered.
    Slowly, he pulled away, releasing her so she slid down his aroused body. He cupped her head, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. Her eyes were glazed, her breathing erratic. If ever a lass looked as though she was ready to be carried to the nearest bed, it was the one before him. But he had to rein himself in lest they did something she would surely regret.
    “I have to go back to Margaret.” She stepped back, her breathing more under control.
    He merely nodded, unable to utter the words he wanted to say. Come with me to my bedchamber where I will make love to you for hours, teach you the ways of a man and a woman.
    She continued to back away, her eyes never leaving his. “She is waiting for me.” Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked to the door, a bit unsteady on her feet. She opened it and stopped as he said, “Sybil.”
    Rounding, she gazed at him with raised brows.
    “Duncan has no mistress.”
    Her lips trembled as she gave him a slight smile. “Thank you.”
    In a flash, she was through the door, the latch snapping in the silence of the room. Liam walked to the fireplace and leaned his forearm against the mantel, staring at the dying flames.

Chapter Seven
    Sybil moved next to a very composed Margaret as they joined Duncan and Liam in front of the priest. Amazingly enough, despite the chaos of the morning, the wedding was taking place on time. After hearing the news that Duncan did not have a mistress, Margaret had risen calmly from her bed and proceeded to prepare for her wedding. Until she’d glanced in the mirror. Hysteria in her voice, she had proclaimed that with her blotchy skin and swollen eyes she would be the ugliest bride ever.
    After numerous pans of cold water and many soft cloths, Sybil had been able to reduce the blotchiness and swelling enough to suit Margaret. The rest of the preparations had gone smoothly, and finally the bride was ready, dressed in a pale blue silk gown with a wreath of tiny Scottish bluebells in her hair.
    Her first glimpse of Liam when she and Margaret arrived at the great hall took her