Page 22 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
As she did so, her heart jumped, her stomach tying itself into knots. Gordon’s lips were just a murmur away, his face suddenly much closer than she had realized. He pulled back half an inch, as though accustomed to women recoiling, waiting for her to turn away or lower her gaze from his scarred features.
On the contrary, Anna took the opportunity to get a better look at him, gaze skimming over the collection of scars, from the smallest to the largest: silvery marks, glinting in the morning sunlight like minnows swimming beneath a clear stream. Beautiful, in their own way. Yet, she still couldn’t see thatmysterious, covered eye, her fingertips itching to remove the patch.
“But thank ye,” she said, as he instinctively caught hold of her wrists, pinning them to her sides, as though he could tell what she was thinking. “I ken Iwouldhave survived the bog, but I’d have been missin’ for half the day to do it. So, I thank ye for yer aid this mornin’… and for seein’ to it that I dinnae return to the castle lookin’ like a mud goblin.”
Something like mirthalmostgleamed in his eye, but she couldn’t be sure if she was just imagining it: a trick of the hazy light. Either way, it was gone a half-second later, stone cold once more.
“Ye’re welcome,” he said stiffly. “But ye havenae answered me question…”
“Which question?”
A different gleam shone in his eye, as he leaned forward, dipping his head almost to her shoulder, hiding his face from her. Denying her the ability to see the expression that matched the husky tone of voice, as he murmured, “Are ye that lass? Are ye capable of bein’ Lady Lyall?”
Anna’s breathing quickened. She’d begun the charade of the auction with the firm determination that she would chase every last laird away, and would end up free to do as she pleased as a spinster, so why was she entertaining Gordon like this?
Because it’s yer choice,a small voice whispered in the back of her head.And if ye daenaechoose, yer faither will.
At the core of herself, she was well aware that there was no conclusion to the auction where she didn’t end up as someone’s wife. Even if shedidmanage to send all the lairds running, her father would just arrange a marriage with whomever had run away last.
But Gordon interested her. She couldn’t deny it. Perhaps, Jackson’s words last night had been more influential than she’d thought, increasing the curiosity in her mind instead of flattening it into indifference.
Gordon’s mouth edged closer to her shoulder, the air between his lips and her skin crackling as though lightning was about to strike.
“Are ye willin’ to surrender control to me?” he growled, taunting her with his closeness, teasing her with possibility. Without a word, he seemed to say:I can kiss yer skin right now, if ye do as I say.
And she must have been mad from the cold and the panic of being stuck in the bog, because she found herself longing to obey if it meant feeling his mouth on her.Her—someone who obeyed no one willingly, other than herself. Maybe that was why he was laying it down as a condition, knowing her nature better than she’d thought.
“I surrender to nay one,” she whispered, her breath catching, her body instinctively pushing up against his.
Gordon tightened his grip on her wrists, just shy of the point of pain, and pressed her harder to the trunk of the tree. But she barely felt the bark against her back, every thought homing in on the whisper of his breath against her neck, and the yearning that almost made her tilt her head to bring his lips to her skin.
“Ye’ll surrender to me,” he told her, his breath tracing a tingling line up to her ear, making her shiver in the most fascinating, thrilling way. “There’s nay reward without sacrifice.”
“I would be… yer equal,” she insisted breathlessly, swallowing down the quiet moan that attempted to slip from her throat. “I willnae be… hidden away or… overlooked, as I am in… this castle. I willnae accept more… of the same.”
“I dinnae say it would be the same.” His rough, callused palms skimmed up her arms, over the peaks of her shoulders, and came to settle at her neck, his hand cradling.
“Ye havenae said it will be different, either,” she pointed out, arching her neck slightly, determined to look him in the eye.
He raised his head and peered down at her, searching her face the way she had done to him not so long ago. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but perhaps he was seeking the answers to his questions in her eyes, deciding if she was suitable.
In that moment, Anna thought she saw the hunger that Jackson had mentioned. It shone in Gordon’s gray eye, revealed in the tension of his face and the slight furrowing of his brow, fully exposed by the slow graze of his teeth across his lower lip and the flit of his gaze to her mouth.Thatwas hunger, though not for any breakfast that a cook could conjure up.
“I’ve told ye what I want,” he said in a rumbling voice. “The choice is yers.”
Before she could say anything in reply, uttering a single question more, his mouth caught hers in a hard press that stole away all breath and thought and doubt. His lips were soft, but the graze of them was white-hot, igniting a tingling burn that crackled down into her chest, and lower still to her stomach, setting loose a flock of butterflies.
He kissed her again, more insistently, as if frustrated by her stillness. His hand slid up into her hair, tilting her head to meet his kiss, taking the control he’d said he would. And though she’d sworn she wouldn’t, she surrendered.
A strange feeling caught Gordon in the chest as he felt Anna return his kiss: a thawing sensation, akin to relief. For a moment, he’d lost control of his discipline, certain that he’d overstepped in a manner that was beneath his character. In truth, he’d been waiting for the slap or the gasp of disgust, so to feel her lips on his, tentatively kissing him back, was a pleasure he couldn’t describe.
She hasnae done this before,he realized, sensing her nerves in the uncertain ebb and flow of her mouth. Indeed, for a lass so confident in everything else, her lack of assertiveness in the kiss stood out.
He eased the press of his own kiss, taking things slower, catching her mouth with his, showing her what to do. It took all the restraint he possessed, his hunger transformed into a ravenous beast, eager to devour her innocence. But he wouldn’t scare her, not when he was about to gain what he had come to Castle MacTorrach for.
She willnae be the easiest wife a man could have, but when have I ever turned from a challenge?
The thought deepened his hunger for her, intensifying his desire for control, and to have her surrender to him. He didn’t want to break her, nothing of the sort, but he could well imagine the singular pleasure of having her obey in the bedchamber. Indeed, though he hadn’t known what sort of woman he was riding to obtain when he’d set out from Castle Lyall, meeting her had confirmed something for him: he neither wanted nor needed a weak Lady to stand at his side.
