Loving Her Highland Enemy by Samantha Holt (best thriller novels of all time .txt) 📕

“Ah, at last. Plum pudding!” Bram slammed his cup down on the table and dug into the food.

Tavish deposited some on Leana’s plate. “If I recall, this was yer favorite dish as a child.”

“Aye.” Her eyes widened. “That is...is it not everyone’s?”

He smirked. He’d caught her and she well knew it. It had been Nessa’s favorite, not Leana’s, who had preferred savory dishes. “Not everyone’s, nay.”

“Well, I have more of a sweet tongue with age,” she said hastily.

“Really? I have yet to witness it.”

A brow lifted and she shook her head. “Ye have to do something to deserve my sweet tongue, Maclean.”

“I’m being a gentleman, am I no’? Especially for a Highlander.”

“Ye should save yer gentlemanliness for some other lass—a lass who is interested.”

“I would have thought ye would be happy yer husband-to-be is no rough Highlander with ill manners.”

She shrugged. “Ye are no’ my husband-to-be yet, and it is a business arrangement, no more. Ye could be as ugly as a boar and with the manners of one too, it wouldnae matter.”

“So yer saying I’m no’ ugly.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, the slight flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Just not as ugly as a boar.”

“Time to dance!” Bram bellowed before Tavish could reply.

His cousin shoved his chair back with a screech and snatched Leana’s hand. She gave a yelp of surprise as he pulled her bodily to her feet and dragged her to the open space at the end of the hallway. The musicians began a lively tune at Bram’s beckoning and Leana froze, her eyes wide. She met Tavish’s gaze, shooting daggers at him when he shrugged and grinned.

“Dinnae tell me Sinclairs cannae dance,” Bram said, snatching her hand again and whirling her around.

Letting her shoulders drop, Leana snatched her skirt and moved in time with Bram. Other clan members swiftly joined them, until the floor vibrated with pounding feet.

Tavish’s father leaned past his mother. “Ye should go dance with yer bride or else someone will charm her away from ye.”

“I dinnae think she’s charmed by me in the first place.”

He didn’t need an excuse to want to dance with her. Bram twirled her around and her laughter cut through the noise. The sound tugged at his insides, luring him in like a sea siren. He wanted to witness that laughter up close. Hell, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

He moved around the table and edged toward the dancers. Leana was passed from man to man, linking arms and twirling around, her eyes shining with mirth. This was the lass he remembered.

And this was the woman he wanted to dance with more than anyone he’d ever met.

He stepped forward as she whirled toward him and she came to a standstill, her chest rising and falling hard with exertion. He offered an arm, and for a brief moment, he thought she might ignore it, but she took it, twisting around him and laughing when he struggled to keep up.

“Ye need practice, Maclean,” she teased.

“Never.”

Before he could prove his point, the music changed. He glanced at his father, who grinned smugly at him. The pace slowed and everyone moved back, clearing the way for couples to dance about each other. Leana’s face paled and she went to retreat to the table but Tavish took her arm.

“One dance,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

She opened her mouth, closed it then nodded. “One dance,” she agreed.

He put his palm to hers, aware of the slight roughness of her fingertips on his. She’d worked hard since becoming the clan chief’s daughter it seemed, perhaps trying to prove herself. That seemed right from what he knew of Nessa.

Heat rolled up his arm from the touch and she flinched slightly. They stepped around each other while the music urged them on slowly. Tavish held her gaze, the air tight in his chest. The warm candlelight brought out the redness in her hair, and highlighted the dimples in her cheeks. Gone was the hardness and annoyance at him. Her gaze was soft and searching.

He held her gaze, moving around her until he was behind her, able to draw her in close. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the fragrance of her that somehow managed to defeat the scent of ale and good food. She twisted back around, their fingers intertwining.

Every single fiber of his being was aware of her, aware of this palpable attraction that had little to do with arranging betrothals and enemy clans and whether she was even who she said she was.

He drew her into him, not even caring that other dancers were dancing differently. She came willingly, putting a hand to his chest and leaving him feeling as though she had branded him with her touch. He moved a tentative arm around her waist, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her body beneath his palm.

Mere inches separated them and it took all his willpower not to draw her closer, align himself entirely with her. Were it not for their very public setting, he might just have done that.

“Yer a fine dancer,” she murmured.

“For a Maclean.”

“Aye, for a Maclean.”

He searched her green gaze, spying the widening of her pupils and her parted lips. He’d fought battles that were easier than ignoring this desire. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. They were warm and soft. He wanted more. Lots more.

“That’s how ‘tis done, Tavish!” A hand slapped his back and he jolted away from Leana. Bram beamed at him. “Ye two do make an excellent match.”

Leana pressed fingers to her lips, her hand shaking. “I think I—” She turned on her heel and dashed out of the hall.

“Ah well, perhaps ye need to practice yer kissing,” his cousin said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Tavish cursed under his breath. He didn’t regret the kiss but he sure as hell shouldn’t have done it in full view of everyone. Especially