Devils Highlander (Clan MacAlpin 1)

“Catch my breath,” she grumbled. “I'll tell you what I'll catch. I'm going to catch that Archie and… and I'll shove him up a chimney. ”

Cormac worked at her laces, letting her rant. He understood her state of mind all too well. She was right — it wasn't the drink that was the cause. It was hard not to get swept away by a tide of outrage and dread. Only through years of hardening his heart had he learned to master the tumult of feelings. A baptism of blood and gunfire had taught him how to focus his mind utterly, how to numb himself to the chaos and despair all around.

He knew, though, if he were only to let go, if he let his own mind drift for but a moment, he'd invariably end up in a dark place. A guilty, anxious place filled with morbid imaginings. Aidan kidnapped, Aidan beaten, Aidan killed.

“I'll find the smugglers, too, Cormac. If I have to go down to the docks myself, I swear I will find every last one of those pirates, and I will chain them up and send them away to a tropical isle. ” Concentrating only on the woman before him, he tucked his grim thoughts into the farthest corners of his mind and continued to pick at her laces. “I know you will, Ree. ”

She jiggled her torso and shuddered in a breath as her bodice began to loosen. “Those women, too. For the boys'

own good. Can you imagine? I'll send those horrible women away to live on an island for their own good, and I'll send the smugglers, too, and see what those nice wives think about Highland stock then. ”

“So many ties,” he muttered. It was no wonder she couldn't breathe; women's clothing was preposterous. Just when he thought he was finished, another knot or another layer would appear. “How do you women manage it?” Finally, her bodice sagged, and she took a huge and shuddering gulp of air. His muscles relaxed, his body easing when hers did.

Cormac's eyes grazed up her spine, and his body quickened at once. He'd been so busy practicing his damned focus, paying mind only to the endless series of ties, he hadn't realized her sleeves had slipped low and her gown gaped open at her back.

“You've got that big, long sword, Cormac. ”

He coughed. Sword indeed.

“Aye,” he managed. Her back was laid bare before him. His eyes devoured the creamy length of naked skin, the elegant stretch of neck. He longed to sweep his hands down her, finding each bone and muscle with his thumbs and rubbing her cares away.

“You'll fight them for me, right?”

“Of course, Ree,” he rasped. Even though there were no ties left to undo, he placed his hand at the small of her back. He longed to feel her naked flesh just where spine curved into bottom.

“What will you do when you get your hands on them?”

He couldn't think about his hands anywhere but right where they were at that very moment. “I… I'll… “ Her beautiful shoulders slumped. “Oh Cormac, tell me I didn't make a hash of things yet again. ” A few long strands had spilled free from her knotted hair, and their light brown waves against the ivory of her skin mesmerized him. “Whatever can you mean, Ree?”

“Did you manage to arrange a meeting with Forbes, before I… “ She visibly deflated.

“Hush. ” How smooth those curls would be if stroked between his fingers, how delicate if they were to brush against his chest. “I've made the connection, and that's enough. I've good reason to go meet Forbes at his office now. ”

“I suppose he will want to know how your ailing wife is. ” She straightened her back, sighing deeply. “We'll find Davie, won't we? We're close to finding him?”

He traced the slope of her bare shoulders with his fingertip. “Aye, Ree. ” He drew in a sharp breath. His heart, his body — both knew.

There was only one thing in this world that could banish the darkness, all the rage and the fear, from both their minds.

Chapter 21

Cormac laced his fingers through a wayward lock of hair, and Marjorie's breath caught.

Oh dear Lord. She was half naked. While she'd ranted, Cormac had nearly undressed her.

There was a curious moment of stillness at her back, and then his hand swept over her shoulders. Breath whooshed into her lungs. And like that, anger transformed into desire, raging like a storm-swollen river.

“Cormac, I… “ She turned to face him. Her gown sagged, and she braced the heavy fabric against herself with a hand at her breast. “I seem to be undressed. ”

“Not quite yet,” he murmured, and the sound of his low, rasping voice set something to quivering deep inside.

His eyes flicked to her bare shoulders, and awareness burned through her.

She returned his rapt stare, and something in her shifted. It was as though Marjorie were watching the actions of another woman. She became desperately curious to know what would happen next to that woman, what that woman might dare. Perhaps traces of the rumbullion still buzzed through her veins, perhaps that's what was to blame, but she let her gown slide ever so slighdy from her grasp. “Better?” Cormac exhaled sharply, and she felt its echoes in the heat pooling between her legs. “Not yet,” he said hoarsely.

She let her dress creep lower still, and cool air kissed the top of her bosom. Her breasts tightened until they ached, and the feeling was wicked and sensual. “How's that?”

His eyes swept down, and he lingered this time, leisurely dragging his gaze along the front of her. “More,” he told her.