Page 14 of In the Highlander's Bed

“Once he claims me, he won’t let me leave,” Constance protested. “My sister Charlotte will make me stay.”

“That’s not my problem, Miss Constance Cameron.” His accent clipped the syllables of her last name, infusing it with complete dislike.

Constance threw aside all pride. “You can let me go andtellhim you have me.”

“I won’t lie,” he said. “I’m a man of honor.”

And that’s when she realized she was nothing more than a chore to him.

She didn’t matter…any more than she mattered to her sisters Charlotte and Miranda now that they were married. No one understood what she wanted, or cared.

That didn’t mean she had to swallow their disdain. Not as long as she had any fight left in her.

Constance curled her hands into claws and went after Mr. Lachlan screaming like a banshee.

But her resistance was a pitiful thing in the face of his superior strength. He took her by both wrists, easily keeping out of reach of her kicking feet. He was going to make her do ashe wished. She was going to miss her ship. She was going to miss her chance to return home, and instead be trapped in England forever.

Worse, his men were laughing at her. Her anger amused them.

Constance lost all reason. She reacted. She spat at Mr. Lachlan, the most deadly insult a frontiersman could pay.

His men’s laughter stopped.

Her aim had been true. She’d hit his jaw.

A glint sharper than the point of her knife came to his eyes. He rubbed the spittle off with his shoulder before yanking her close, her hands against his chest. His body was hot with anger. He smelled of the night air and male.

“That’s the way, Gordon. Don’t take that from her,” Thomas said. The others growled their agreement.

Constance shut her eyes, holding her breath. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been hit. Her father had struck his daughters religiously. She knew how to take a slap.

Gordon Lachlan ordered, “Open your eyes.”

She didn’t want to see the blow coming, but refused to take the coward’s way. She raised her lashes, meeting his gaze with a steady one of her own, even though her knees threatened to buckle from fear.

“You’ve made me very angry, Miss Constance,” he said. “No one disrespects the name Lachlan. Not without paying a price.”

And then he did something she had not anticipated.

He kissed her.

Four

Gordon could taste Constance Cameron’s astonishment, her shock, her inexperience—and he used all three to his full advantage. This wasn’t so much a kiss as a moment of locked lips. There was no passion, no spark, no energy. It was just pure expediency. He could have beat her or kissed her into submission. He chose the latter—excepthe hadn’t anticipated he would have a reaction to this kiss.

Especially when Constance leaned into him, as if needing him for support, her breasts flattening against his chest. His hands had no choice but to come down to her waist and pull her closer.

Nor was he satisfied with pressing their mouths together.

Since they were going through the exercise, the very least he could do was show this young woman how to kiss. He ran his tongue along the line of her pressed lips. The sensation tickled and her lips parted.

Gordon took full control. He breathed her, tasted her, enjoyed her.

His men had gone silent. It crossed Gordon’s mind that they probably wondered what had come over him. A part of him wondered, too. He only meant to subdue her.

But another part of him, thehardpart, understood his motive too well. It was more than just bending her to his will. He’d wanted to know how she’d feel against him.

She “fit.”