Page 113 of The Highlander's Princess Bride
He softly tapped on the oak panel. After a few moments, he heard a soft rustling, and then the door swung open. Victoria blinked up at him, obviously startled.
“Lord Arnprior, my goodness,” she said in a breathless tone.
He let his gaze drift slowly down, desire starting a hard drumbeat through his veins. Her unpinned hair streamed like a waterfall of pale moonlight thick and straight over her shoulders. Thankfully, she was still dressed in her shimmering blue gown, a glorious confection of silk and lace that he’d been dreaming of peeling off since the moment he’d laid eyes on her in it.
Bracing a hand on the door frame, he smiled down at her. “Hello, lass. I’ve come to get that New Year’s Eve kiss you promised me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Victoria blinked, stunned by the sight of the earl’s muscular and very naked chest six inches from her nose. She could barely assemble a coherent thought.
Then she made the mistake of glancing down. He was wearing only his kilt, and it did a splendid job of showcasing his long legs, lean hips, and flat stomach, down which a trail of black hair disappeared under his waistband toward his—
Stop it.
With one brawny arm braced against the door frame, his shoulders filled up nearly the entire space. Victoria was now used to living in a house full of tall, broad-shouldered men, but the earl was something entirely different. He always carried himself with a quiet power and dignity, but at the moment he looked almost raw, as if he were a wild Celtic warrior come down from the hills in search of plunder.
The fact that he barely looked civilized was considerably more exciting than she cared to admit.
“Um, what?” Then she winced at her silly response. Instead of gaping up at him like a henwit, she should be slamming the door in his face.
A rogue’s smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Placing his hands around her waist, he walked her backward into the room, then kicked the door shut with his heel.
“A New Year’s Eve kiss, remember?” he said. “You’re supposed to give me one.”
She made a concerted effort to stop acting like a silly girl. “I don’t believe I ever promised to do such a thing, my lord.”
He adopted a thoughtful frown as his hands drifted up her rib cage to come to rest under her breasts. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
His eyes smoldered like molten silver. “I think you should give me one anyway. It’s tradition, for good luck.”
Victoria felt her willpower crumbling like the ancient wall at the bottom of the castle garden. “Well, I suppose if it’s tradition . . .”
Besides, she could certainly use a little good luck.
As he started to lower his head, she braced her hands on his chest and unconsciously went up on her toes to meet him. His big hands slid back down to her hips, gently tucking her into the shelter of his body. When they connected, she gasped at the feel of his erection pressing against her belly.
Her shock was swept away as his lips took hers with a passion that robbed her of strength. When she swayed against him, he curled his fingers into her hips, crumpling the fabric of her gown.
His kiss was like a storm roaring down from the craggy heights overlooking Kinglas. Victoria desperately clutched at his shoulders as he ravished her mouth with an intensity she’d never experienced—not even during their sensual interlude in his study, when he’d brought her to a shivering climax in his arms.
When Nicholas nipped her lower lip, she moaned and parted for him. The kiss turned hot and wet, his mouth demanding and greedy as he seduced with dominant, expert kisses. He’d clearly been holding back when he kissed her before. Even that first time, when he was drunk, he’d been gentle, protecting her in spite of his need. Now his kisses saidyou are mine. This was the laird, the Highland chief, and he was claiming what rightfully belonged to him.
God help her, Victoria wanted to be claimed. For once, she wanted to belong to somebody, to come before all others, body and soul.
And she wanted to claim him, too.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing close to his chest as she whimpered into his mouth. He growled in response, low in his throat like a wolf. Everything inside her quivered at the delicious sound, and she wriggled against him, trying to assuage the ache that had tightened her nipples to hard points.
And assuage the building ache between her legs. Without thinking, she rocked into him, pressing the softest part of her against that incredibly hard part of him.
When Nicholas stilled, Victoria’s eyes flew open and she met his wide gaze. His pupils were dilated, as if he’d been drugged, and there was a flush high on his cheekbones.
They stared at each other, both panting for breath.
“What . . . what’s wrong?” she stammered.
