Free Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman

slowly. She slipped the gown off her shoulders and lowered by cautious degrees. Dragonheart felt heavy and warm between her breasts, and though she tried, she couldn't quite take her gaze from Liam's.
    His eyes shone dark as fire-lit ebony in the dancing light of the flame, and not for a moment did they waver.
    She slipped the dress lower. Her nipples, puckered, hard, and aching, scraped out of bondage.
    Liam muttered something indistinguishable. But before she could ask what he'd said, he'd jerked away. She stared befuddled at his back, the solid, bunched muscles of his arms, the mounded hillocks of his buttocks, the sculpted strength of his thighs. He was a marvel, really, tightly packed muscle, dusky skin, magic fingers. With some effort, she remembered to breathe.
    Muttering again.
    "What?" she asked, yanking her gaze upward.
    "Are you staring at me?" he asked, not turning toward her.
    "Nay!" Too squeaky. "Nay." And for some reason unknown to her, she giggled.
    He swung jerkily about. "What are you laughing at?"
    "Laughing? I wasn't... I didn't..." Truly, she wasn't the giggling type. Normally. But she felt as if her insides had been possessed by a demon. A funny little demon with a fiendish sense of humor.
    "This is not amusing," he said, every lean muscle tight as a drum and sparks flying from his eyes.
    She tried not to grin, but...
    "This is not amusing!" he repeated and strode toward her.
    She shook her head and tried to retreat, but he was already upon her, curling his hand behind her neck and jerking her to him. His lips crashed against hers, his kiss as fierce as the storm outside.
    Rachel's fingers managed to hold on to her gown for a fraction of a second, and then they gave way. Her clothing fell in a wet heap. Her arms wound about him of their own accord, and she answered his passion with a flaring, long-suppressed heat of her own, pressing up against him with all her might.
    His tongue probed her lips, and she opened for him. His palm pressed down her back. She moaned and arched closer as he squeezed her buttocks.
    Against her belly, his erection pulsed with turgid life. She pressed against it, feeling its heat, its intensity, with longing.
    His kisses burned lower, searing her throat, her shoulder, the upper portions of her breasts, and suddenly they were on the ground. He was between her thighs and pulsing with passion. And it all felt right, like a feast too long delayed.
    She arched against him, living a hundred steamy dreams all at once, feeling the straining muscles of his back against her palm, the hard slope of his chest against her nipples. "Liam," she whispered.
    But suddenly he went still.
    She opened her eyes. Their gazes met only inches apart, his eyes dark and wild.
    "Rachel!" he rasped. His tone registered surprise, as if he were shocked that it was she. As if mortified that it was she.
    And then he was scrambling raggedly to his feet.
    "Rachel! I..." He was breathing hard, as was she. She raised herself to her elbows and stared at him. "I'm sorry," he rasped.
    "Are you?"
    "Aye. Aye." His hand was shaking when he dragged it through his wet hair. "Tis the beast in me."
    She lowered her gaze for a fraction of a second. The beast was pulsing against the rippled expanse of his abdomen. "Is that what you call it?"
    "Rachel!" His jaw dropped. He stood absolutely still, scandalized to immobility.
    She tried to be ashamed, but found she couldn't quite manage it, for it had felt right. As if she had seen it all in a dream. And indeed, in a way she had, for only hours before, standing at the river's edge, she had seen this very cave in her mind, had seen them naked in the firelight, their bodies fused and their minds melded.
    "What has come over you?" he asked.
    She rose slowly to her feet, not shifting her gaze from his. "Mayhap tis the beastie in me."
    He shook his head, his eyes wild, his body tense. "There is no beast in you. There is none."
    "How would you know what is in me, Liam?" she asked. Trying