The Highlander's Bride(75)

“Sara,” he called out when near.

She appeared in a flash at the open door, her hands hugging her hips, and he smiled. A smudge of dirt ran across her nose and dotted her cheek and chin. Her bright red hair was piled atop her head, and her eyes glared a little too brightly.

Had she been crying?

Impossible. He had rarely seen Sara cry, at least a hard cry. He didn’t think her capable of it.

“What do you want?” she asked, near snapping his head off.

“To help.”

“I don’t need your help. I do just fine on my own.” She turned and entered the cottage.

He followed her into a large room, light spilling in from the open windows and filling the space with iridescent sunshine. A fireplace with a fine oak mantel occupied the wall opposite the door, and the only furnishings were a spindle-backed rocker, a small table, and a bed, the mattress in need of fresh stuffing.

“Have I upset you?” he asked, reaching out for her hand.

She moved out of reach. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“You’ve been snarling and snapping at me since I first greeted you this morning.” He walked over to the table, reached for the cloth draped over the rim of the bucket of water and wet it.

Sara stood staunchly, arms crossed over her chest, in front of the fireplace. “I suppose I’m feeling cross today.”

Cullen nodded and approached her slowly. She didn’t move, and he didn’t expect her to. She would show him no weakness or fear. He knew that was how she hid her deepest hurts—with a false bravado.

“Your face is smudged with dirt,” he said, and wiped at the spot on her chin.

She kept silent and moved not a muscle.

Cullen cleaned each smudge off her face, slowly and methodically until her skin sparkled a rosy pink and her blue-green eyes softened. Then he kissed her.

It was a simple kiss, or meant to be. A mere brush of his lips to let her know he was there for her even if she were angry with him. But when he tasted her, he couldn’t stop.

She was lusciously delicious, like a favorite treat you simply couldn’t refuse.

He tossed the cloth aside and cupped her face to feast on her, as she did on him. It felt as if he’d been hungry for her forever and that if he didn’t quench this relentless hunger he’d die from starvation.

He nibbled along the silky column of her neck, and she dropped her head back to give him full rein. He took it, nipping and nibbling until she shuddered in his arms.

“I want you,” he growled, then nipped at her ear and moved to her mouth to claim any objection.

She shook her head and pushed him away, but he didn’t give in so easily.

“Don’t deny us,” he demanded.

“This will serve no purpose.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her lips, ripe from his kisses. “The hell with purpose. I want you and you want me. Don’t deny it.”

“I won’t deny I want you. But I can’t deny I fear falling in love with you,” she said, and pushing him off her, ran to the door.

Cullen got there first, slamming it shut and grabbing her arm to swing her around and pin her against the closed door. He anchored her there with his body while he planted his hands on either side of her head, encasing her.

“Don’t so this,” she warned.

He had to smile. “Only you would warn. Most women would plead with want.”

“I’m not most women.”

“And grateful I am for it.” He leaned in to kiss her, and she turned her head.

“Why are you grateful?” she asked challengingly.

“You are a woman of great passion in everything that you do,” he replied, meeting her challenge. “You seize the moment, you take a chance, you defy the common, you defend the helpless, you fight for life on your terms, and…you are so very beautiful.”

“You believe me beautiful?” she asked doubtfully.

He brought his mouth slowly to hers. “More beautiful than you can ever imagine.”

She ducked and squeezed out from against him. “I can’t.”

“You can,” he urged, frustrated, and reached out for her.

She skirted away from him anxiously, yet he saw the ache of unfulfilled passion in her misty eyes, and in response his own passion soared like a mighty warrior prepared for battle.

Then he descended on her so quickly that she didn’t have a chance to slip out of his reach. He grabbed hold of her arms and held her firm as she attempted to wiggle free.

“I’ll not let you go this time,” he warned.

“I’ll not submit to you,” she argued.

He shook his head. “I see the desire raging in your eyes. You have denied yourself too long.”

“I will not—”