Free The Highlander's Outlaw Bride by Cathy MacRae Page B

wealth.”
    “Yer dowry is of no importance to me. However, I do find myself in need of an heir.”
    Furious, Brianna tossed her head. “Ye would do better to find a woman ye know will give ye one. I have no desire to be that woman.”
    “Is that so?” The soft tone of his voice did not match the fire she saw in his eyes. She shook off the frisson of longing before it woke the passion his voice ignited in her, and did not flinch as she spoke the lie.
    “Aye.”
    She braced herself for his scornful rebuttal, certain he would deride her actions of three nights previous. She needed away from this nightmare, a chance to find some palatable option. Before she could move, his hand grasped the back of her head, drawing her against him. She gasped, and his mouth took her cry in a fierce kiss that tore the lie from her. Startled, she returned his kiss, the taste of him a vibrant memory. His hand flared across her bottom, pulling her against his arousal. He was too close, trapping her, giving her no quarter. With a muffled shriek, Brianna jerked away, her hands shoving against his chest. He murmured against her ear.
    “That’s right. Fight me. Use up yer anger.”
    With renewed vigor, she kicked at his shins, her slippered feet doing him no damage. Her fingers curved as she clawed at him, leaving a red welt the length of his cheek before he caught her wrists. She writhed against him until her energy was spent, and she sagged against the wall at her back.

    Conn shifted both her wrists into one hand and stroked fingers across her cheek, the heat of her skin reflecting her wrath. Taking advantage of what he was sure was only a temporary surrender, his hands took on a life of their own as they released her to stroke her sides, remembering her curves. As his palms moved to cup her breasts, Brianna stiffened with a hiss, and he cursed her willful anger against him. Though a widow, he did not believe she openly sought lovers, for the last time he caressed her, he’d gotten his own sword in his chest for his efforts.
    He moved his lips soothingly against her temple as he calmed his raging passion. But instead of settling, she wrenched away, though the wall at her back stopped her retreat. She flattened against the rough stone, her breathing ragged, eyes sparking her fury. He placed his hands on the wall above her head and leaned his forehead against his arms. Admiring the way her breasts heaved against the constraints of her gown, he forced his gaze away from her ample charms and to her eyes.
    He read mutiny in their cool blue depths. Mutiny and hatred. Puzzled, he wondered if he had gone too far, but he remembered how she had returned his kiss, for a moment at least. For one sweet moment she had felt like heaven in his arms. Now she fought to get away from him like a rabbit caught in the hunting path of a falcon.
    “Explain why ye hate me so.” His voice sounded soft and low, both gentling and demanding at the same time.
    She glanced past him, her gaze darting from side to side, judging the possibility of escape. There was none, and after a moment she lifted her chin a notch, refusing to answer him. He hid a grin at her courage and pride. And stubbornness.
    “Have ye always disliked the idea of marriage, then?”
    A disdainful breath escaped her. “I have been married once before. It dinnae interest me much then, either.”
    “Yer previous husband was only a lad. Heir to a sizeable bit of land, but still just a lad.”
    “And ye can do better,” she tossed at him, repeating his earlier boast to the king.
    “Ye know I can.” He touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek and she gasped, her skin darkening beneath his touch. “I cannae get our love-making out of my mind.”
    Brianna shrugged. “Och, there was nothing to recommend it to me. I have already put it from my mind.”
    “I apologize for that, dearling. Ye willnae feel so bereft the next time, I promise ye.”
    “Dinnae bother. All I want from ye is Morven’s