Free Charming the Chieftain by Deanie Roman Page B

lateness of the hour coupled with the brisk evening air halted any protest she might have made.
    True, he could have warmed her with any number of extra plaids carried by his men, thereby protecting her modesty, and his sanity, but he was tired of fighting his desires. He wanted to hold her, press her against him, just this once.
    “Come, before you freeze on your feet. I promise I will no’ bite.”
    • • •
    The damp chill had long ago seeped deep in her bones, and she wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort he offered. Conversely, the notion of such familiarity chafed. Really, she should protest the suggestion. However, her willpower froze with the rest of her limbs. In the end, she conceded there were very few situations in which a female had the opportunity to fling propriety aside.
    Her mind made up, she pitched herself at him. Immediately the heat of his embrace surrounded her, and a hearty moan pulled itself from her throat. As she laid her head on his chest, she allowed herself a soft sigh of contentment, and took immense pleasure in the quickening of his heartbeat. He cocooned them within the Maxwell plaid and for the first time in a very long time, she experienced the protective side of a man.
    Just before she drifted into a deep sleep, she thought she heard him whisper, “Ah, lass, what are you doin’ to me?”
    Gently, he shifted her to her back, insinuated a warm thigh in-between hers, and bestowed a light kiss upon her slightly parted lips. He tangled her tongue with his, and the raw craving kept leashed roared to life. He averted his face and dragged in a lungful of fresh air. As if branded by her touch, he reclined backwards and the look of disbelief reflected back in her eyes. After a long moment, he gently guided her head back down to his shoulder. On his life, he believed his desire nothing more than a natural response for being deprived of bed sport. With one stolen kiss, he set out to prove nothing special existed between them, only to discover that a kiss from the right woman could resonate throughout his mind and body.
    “What am I to do with you?” he murmured.
    Whether he liked it or not, a bond had formed — a connection beyond anything he bore for another woman. He expelled his breath and gathered her close and lay there for a time stroking her hair, listening to her even breaths. Rolling onto his back, he tucked her into his side and studied the multitude of stars spilled across the clear night sky to wait for sleep that would never come.

Chapter Twelve
    “It has been over one full week since he pulled me from the river. The man scarce speaks to me, yet, each night shames me by taking me in his arms. What must his men think?”
    Elisande threw her hands in the air. She was near the breaking point. Each day dragged into another and another until she had to stuff her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming aloud. After that first night he took her into the hawthorn grove, she tried making her bed away from him, only to awaken the next morning entwined like a vine around his muscular form. Desperate to save her sanity, she fought to maintain a physical distance, if not a mental one, but the contrary man never permitted her even that small dignity. Oh, he presented the appearance of being put upon and threw out a sigh or two for the benefit of his men. Still, when it was time to settle in for the night, he would scoop her up, blankets and all, and drag her off to their private coppice. She always ended up unyielding as a brick, until the tantalizing heat from his inner thighs warmed her bottom. Once that happened, the will to extract her person from his body vanished. If she were honest, she supposed she didn’t really put up much of a struggle. Not that it signified, he did seem determined to have his way.
    The next morning the sky glowed in various shades of oranges and yellows when Elisande awoke from a fitful night’s slumber. An indecent dream centered on Aeden, or more