Текст книги "Only With A Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
“You could hire men from their crews,” Winter suggested. “To build it on weekends.”
“That would take forever to finish four miles of road.” He shook his head. He looked at the lengthening shadows creeping across the meadow and urged Goose forward. “Let’s go get your jacket,”
he said. “And you can introduce me to my tenant.”
They rode three abreast through the meadow until Megan suddenly stopped. “Look,” she said, pointing at the ground. “See the disturbed grass?” She looked around the clearing, then over at Matt, and smiled. “I bet there was a big battle up here last night. Have you ever seen two bull moose fighting, Matt?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head as he visually examined the broken shrub and matted grass. “Is it rutting season?”
“It’s just starting,” Megan clarified, walking her horse in a circle as she studied the ground. She looked at Matt. “This is moose country. I hope you don’t mind sharing your home with huge animals that think landscaping shrubs are candy. In the language of the Micmac Indians, moose means ‘twig eater.’ ”
“What about bear?” Matt asked, scanning the edge of the clearing. “I’m assuming they named it Bear Mountain because bear live up here.”
“The mountain was named for what it looks like rather than what lives on it,” Winter interjected.
“If you see this mountain from the lake, you can just make out the image of a sleeping bear.” She pointed to an area just below the summit. “From a distance, that dropped ridge would be his head, stretched out over his front paws. The brook cuts a winding path that makes the outline of a rear leg tucked against his body, and the long, narrow peak,” she said, pointing first to the south end of the knife-edge peak, then to the north, “is his back, finishing the illusion.”
Matt just stared at Winter in silence, watching her hand stroke out a drawing only her mind’s eyes could see. This was it; he was witnessing firsthand the magic he’d felt in her paintings. Winter’s eyes sparked with passion, her whole body moving into each gesture as her hand gracefully stroked out the lines of her vision. She had forgotten he and Megan were even there, Matt suddenly realized. Winter was completely immersed in a painting only her imagination could see.
Dancing to a magic only she could feel.
If he had any doubts before, they were vanished at the sight of Winter MacKeage the artist.
And one way or another, Matt decided, he would find a way to capture some of that magic for himself.
Chapter Seven
W inter hadn’t been bluffing upon the mountain: if Matt told Tom he had to move out of his cabin, she wasn’t taking his commission. She’d be danged if she would work for a man who didn’t have a heart.
Winter led the silent procession along the shoreline to the tiny clearing and stopped in front of Tom’s cabin. She quickly slid down off Snowball and headed out back to the workshop.
“Tom,” she called as she rounded the side of the cabin. “I forgot my jacket this morning.”
Tom emerged from the workshop, once again taking the time to wrestle the rickety door shut before he turned and greeted her with a crooked grin. “I’m glad your head is attached to your shoulders, or you probably would have forgotten that, too.”
“Tom,” Winter said softly, rushing up to him. “The guy who bought Bear Mountain is here.”
“Good. I’ve been looking forward to meeting your Mr. Gregor ever since you told me about him this morning,” Tom said calmly, using his finger under her chin to close her gaping mouth.
Winter spun around and followed Tom as he headed to the front of the cabin. Tom reached Megan just as Matt had finished helping her down off her horse. Turning Winter’s sister around to face him, Tom folded her into a warm, grandfatherly embrace.
“It’s good to see you out and about, Meg,” he said, kissing her forehead, then leaning back with a tender smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to come visit me.” He brushed Megan’s hair back into place. “I have something for you.”
Megan shook her head with a laugh. “No more chocolates, Tom. I’m getting fat.”
“No chocolates,” he said, stepping away. “It’s something I made just for you.” Tom turned to face Matt and held out his hand. “Name’s Tom, Mr. Gregor. Welcome to Bear Mountain. You own a very special piece of land.”
Winter held her breath as the two men faced each other.
“So I’ve been discovering,” Matt said, reaching out and shaking Tom’s hand. He looked around the tiny clearing, then brought his gaze back to Tom. “But you should know, having lived here for over two years.”
Tom nodded. “I do,” he agreed, heading for his cabin. “Megan, come see your surprise.” He stopped and looked at Winter. “Don’t take their bridles off,” he told her. “The sun sets in another hour, and you have to be back in town by then.”
“We were planning to watch the sunset from the high meadow,” Matt said, still standing beside Megan’s horse.
Tom looked at him. “I want the girls out of the woods by dark.”
Matt narrowed his eyes. “Because of the panther?”
“What panther?” Winter asked, drawing Matt’s attention. “The one in the painting in my gallery?” She shook her head. “I just felt like painting a jungle cat.”
“That’s not what I heard in town yesterday. Rumor has it a large black panther has been seen around TarStone Mountain.” Matt looked over at Tom. “I have a gun rolled up in my jacket.”
Winter grew alarmed. “You brought a gun? Why?”
Matt just lifted a brow at her.
“Because he’s a smart man,” Tom said, looking directly at Matt and nodding. “But it’s not four-legged animals you’re likely to tangle with after dark, but two-legged poachers trying to get a jump on hunting season.” He studied Matt for several seconds and then said, “You want to see a sunset from the meadow, I’ll take you up there tomorrow afternoon.”
Matt contemplated his tenant in silence, glanced briefly at Winter, then nodded to Tom. “I’ll be here at three.”
Winter became even more alarmed. What was Tom doing? Didn’t he realize Matt could kick him out of his home?
But then she relaxed. Maybe their spending time together would work in Tom’s favor. Maybe once Matt realized how harmless Tom was, he wouldn’t care that her friend was living out here on the point. Heck, Matt might even consider it a plus, to have someone overseeing his land when he was in New York.
Yeah, maybe Tom knew exactly what he was doing.
Tom turned and went into his cabin while Megan stood beside the door. He reemerged with a small object in his hands, bundled in a towel. Both Winter and Matt moved closer to see.
“I started it when you came home last month, finished it just last week,” Tom told Megan, holding the bundle in one hand and slowly peeling away the towel. “But I was waiting until you came out here to visit me to give it to you.”
Megan’s eyes widened the moment her gift was revealed, her gaze shooting to Tom before looking back at the wooden figure.
“It’s beautiful,” Winter said on an indrawn breath, stepping even closer.
“Take it, Meg,” Tom said softly. “It’s not as delicate as it looks. I carved it from oak. You won
’t break it.”
Megan finally reached out and carefully took the foot-tall carving of a bear. “Oh, she’s got a cub tucked in her legs,” Megan said, turning the figure to study it. She looked up at Tom again, and Winter saw the sheen of tears welling up in her eyes. “She…she’s beautiful,” Megan said, dropping her gaze back to the mother bear. “And her tiny cub. It’s looking up with an expression of such…such…”
Megan’s voice trailed off as her throat closed with emotion.
“With trust,” Tom finished for her. “And love.” He reached out and tucked Megan’s hair behind her ear. “That cub knows his mother loves him more than life itself. And he trusts her to protect him. It’s a bond that began in the womb, Megan.”
Megan clasped the mother and cub to her chest, brushed away an escaping tear, and rose up and gave Tom a kiss on his reddened cheek. “Th-thank you,” she whispered. “I love it.”
“You set it by your bedside,” Tom softly told her. “So at night when you sleep, you’ll dream of your own little cub growing inside you. Bears are fierce protectors, Megan, as well as symbols of healing.
And you,” he said, lifting her chin to make her look at him. “You, Megan MacKeage, have the heart of a bear.”
Winter felt her own eyes misting as she stared at the figure clutched to her sister’s chest. She had seen many of Tom’s carvings over the last two years, but this one…this one outshone all the others.
The expression on the mother bear’s broad face was fierce and loving and proud as she looked down at her tiny defenseless cub.
Tom gave Megan’s shoulder a pat, then suddenly turned to Winter with a crooked smile. “You don’t get your gift for three more months, so don’t even ask. Besides,” he said, tucking her arm through his and leading her over to Snowball, “you need to practice your patience.”
But just as Tom bent over to lace his fingers together to make her a step, another set of strong hands took hold of her waist and lifted her into the saddle. Winter managed only to give a small squeak this time, and turned and glared down at Matt. Tom chuckled and headed to the cabin, shaking his head.
Matt returned her glare with a triumphant smile, turned, and took the rewrapped bundle from Megan and carefully stowed it in her saddlebag. Then he leaned over, laced his fingers together and helped Winter’s still-emotional sister mount up.
Tom came out of the cabin carrying Winter’s jacket. “You head straight home on the shoreline path,” he instructed, handing her the jacket. “I’ll be at your gallery early in the morning to settle up. I noticed my large moose carving has sold.”
“Some lady from Arizona wasn’t leaving Maine without it,” Winter told him. “I swear she made her husband buy that moose its own airline seat for the ride home. She wouldn’t even trust it to be shipped, afraid an antler might get broken.”
Tom stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Can you find a way to get my money from that moose to the Dalton family without them knowing where it came from? I want those kids to have some toys under their tree this Christmas.”
“I can find a way,” she whispered back.
“Good,” Tom said with a nod. “Sam Dalton needs the help, but it can’t look like charity.”
“I’ll use the same method I used with the Greeleys.”
Tom suddenly turned to Matt, who had mounted up and was frowning at them. “You’re going to need a road built, Gregor,” Tom told him. “And I know just the man to build it.”
Matt lifted one brow. “You?” he asked.
Tom shook his head. “A guy by the name of Sam Dalton. He busted his leg up pretty badly a couple of months ago, but his head still works fine. He used to be on the paper mill’s road crew. Sam knows construction.”
“Then I’ll look Dalton up, once Winter decides where I’m going to build.”
Tom nodded and stepped away from Snowball. “Get going then,” he said to Winter. “The sun’s setting.”
But it was Megan who led the way out of the clearing with a final wave to Tom, taking the path that wove through the woods along Pine Lake. Winter fell into step behind Megan and Matt, looking back just as the forest started closing in on them. Tom was standing in his clearing, his arms folded across his chest and his feet planted wide, watching them leave. Winter turned back around and stared at Matt’s broad shoulders as she contemplated the old hermit’s expression with growing alarm.
Aye. Tom had been looking much too smug, she decided.
They reached the main street of Pine Creek just as the setting sun washed the sky in a glow of purple and red twilight. Winter stopped Snowball in front of her gallery and was just dismounting when her cell phone rang.
“Hello,” she answered as Matt helped Megan dismount.
“Where are ye?” her papa said without preamble.
“I’m standing in front of my gallery. Megan, Matt, and I just rode into town. Where are you?”
“We’re still on the mountain,” her papa said. “I’m calling to tell ye we’re spending the night up here.”
Winter frowned. “You are? Why?”
Greylen chuckled. “Because yer mother wants to.”
“But it’s supposed to get below freezing tonight. And you didn’t take camping gear.”
There was a heartbeat of hesitation on the other end of the phone before her papa softly drawled, “I believe I still remember how to keep my wife warm.”
Despite his humor, Winter heard the strain in her papa’s voice, and her frown deepened. “I’m sure you do. I’m just surprised, is all. Is everything okay?” she asked. “Can I talk to Mama?”
There was another, longer hesitation. “Nay,” her papa said softly. “She’s having a nap.”
“But—”
“I’m just calling to let ye know we’re staying the night,” he said, cutting her off. “So ye won’t worry. We’ll be back tomorrow. Ye lock up tight tonight, and if ye girls need anything, call Robbie.”
“But—”
“We’ll see ye tomorrow, baby girl,” he said gently, cutting her off again.
Winter could only stare at the tiny phone in her hand when the connection suddenly went dead.
“Was that Papa?” Megan asked. “What did he want?”
“They’re staying up on the mountain tonight,” Winter told her, still frowning. “He claims it was Mama’s idea, yet he wouldn’t let me talk to her because he said she was napping. But I was sure I could hear her in the background, and it sounded like she was…sobbing or something.”
“Sobbing?” Megan repeated, stepping closer. “Are you sure it wasn’t an animal you heard? A squirrel, maybe? Or the wind?”
Winter blinked at her sister, then shrugged. “It could have been, I suppose. But they hadn’t planned on spending the night, and don’t have any equipment. And when they left this afternoon, Papa was…well, he seemed preoccupied. Like something was bothering him.”
“It’s a little late in the season to be camping out, isn’t it?” Matt asked.
“Not really,” Megan said, turning to him. “Not for our family. We’re used to camping out in all kinds of weather.”
Matt nodded, though he still seemed concerned by Winter’s and Megan’s obvious worry. He suddenly smiled. “Then I guess you ladies are at loose ends tonight. Why don’t I take you both to dinner at the resort?”
Megan immediately shook her head. “Thank you,” she said, “but I’m babysitting tonight.” She looked past Matt and broke into a wide smile. “And here’s my ride now.”
Winter turned just in time to be swept up in a firm hug. “Hello, baby girl. Been out painting pretty pictures today?”
Winter could only mumble into the chest against her face. Her attacker laughed, kissed her on the forehead, then let her go and turned to Matt. “Robbie MacBain,” he said, extending his hand. “Have these two outlaws been giving ye a private tour of TarStone Mountain?”
Winter stilled in the act of brushing a strand of loose hair off her cheek, alarmed by the expression on Matt’s face as he stared at Robbie. What the heck was going on? Matt Gregor looked angry enough to chew nails.
Still keeping his hand extended, Robbie reached out with his other hand and pulled Winter up against him in another possessive embrace. “Did I hear ye asking my girls out to dinner tonight?”
Winter reached under Robbie’s jacket and pinched him quite hard in his side, just above his belt. He didn’t even flinch, but he did squeeze most of the air from her lungs.
“I should warn ye, this one isn’t a cheap date,” Robbie continued, still holding out his hand, still waiting for Matt to shake it. “She might be tiny, but my cousin has the appetite of a moose.”
Matt Gregor’s shoulders suddenly relaxed and his eyes went back to their warm harvest gold as he finally reached out and firmly shook Robbie’s hand. “Matt Gregor,” he said. “And I think I can afford to feed her.”
Winter wiggled free and stepped away, trying to decide if what had just happened was a good thing or not. Had Matt really been jealous? And had Robbie really been goading him?
Curses, men were confounding.
“Megan and Winter have been giving me a tour of my land,” Matt continued. “I own Bear Mountain, and I’ve commissioned Winter to help me choose a building site.”
Robbie folded his arms over his chest and studied Matt. “Did ye meet Talking Tom?” he asked softly.
Matt studied him back. “Tom’s taking me up Bear Mountain tomorrow afternoon, to watch the sunset from the meadow.”
The door to Winter’s gallery opened and Robbie’s step-grandmother, Kate, came out onto the sidewalk, drawing everyone’s attention. The elderly woman leaned down to fit the key in the lock, and Winter rushed over to her. “Here, let me get that, Gram Katie,” she said. “How were sales today?”
Kate straightened and handed Winter the key. “Booming,” she said. “I sold the painting of the mother deer and her fawns you had hanging in the window. They’re waiting until tomorrow to pick it up though, because they want to meet the artist. And one of Tom’s carvings sold. It was the wolf standing on the bluff, howling at the moon.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I think it was underpriced, Winter. You could have gotten twice what you asked. It’s a very intricate piece.”
“Tom sets the prices,” Winter explained, checking the doorknob to make sure it had locked as she smiled at Kate.
Kate shook her head. “Then you need to have a talk with Tom. He’s practically giving his stuff away.”
Winter linked her arm in Kate’s and led her over to Robbie and Megan and Matt. “Gram Katie, I’d like you to meet Matt Gregor. He bought Moon Watchersand By a Hare’s Breadth.”
Matt reached out to the feeble hand Kate extended and gently clasped it. “Miss Katie,” he said with a crooked smile and gallant nod.
Kate’s cheeks reddened as her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Call me Gram Katie. I seem to be everyone’s grandmother around here,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Gregor. You know beauty when you see it. Moon Watchersis one of my favorites.”
“I do appreciate beautiful things,” Matt said, his eyes briefly locking on Winter’s before looking back to Kate. “And please, call me Matt. I want to thank you for covering for Megan this afternoon, so she could accompany us to Bear Mountain.”
Kate’s blush deepened as she waved away his thanks. “It was my pleasure. At my age, a woman looks forward to being useful.”
“Mum’s waiting supper for ye, Gram,” Robbie said, stepping up and lacing Kate’s arm through his. He looked at Megan and asked, “Ye ready to practice being a mama, Meg? Baby Angus will likely sleep most of the evening, but Hamish is potty training and he still fights going to bed. And Nathan and Nora have a movie and they’re expecting popcorn.”
Winter couldn’t help but smile at her eagerly grinning sister. Baby Angus was Robbie’s and Catherine’s ten-week-old son, and Hamish was their two-year-old hellion. Then there were Catherine’s two older children, eleven-year-old Nathan and nine-year-old Nora. Robbie and Cat also had two foster boys living with them, but the teens had their own plans for the night. Either that or Catherine wasn’t quite ready to turn her newborn over to their care quite yet.
“I think I can handle your crew,” Megan said. “It can’t be any harder than babysitting a bunch of undergraduates counting Canada goose nests on the tundra.”
Robbie nodded with an answering smile. “Gunter and Emily might stop in for a visit. Gunter said he has a snake skin he wants to show Nora, so she can identify it for him.”
Gunter was one of Robbie’s previous foster boys, who was now married and working in Robbie’s logging business. Gunter and Emily were expecting their first child next spring.
“Robbie, have you spoken to Papa today?” Winter asked. “Or Father Daar?”
“No, why?”
Winter shrugged. “No reason. It’s just that since Papa came back from visiting Daar this morning, he’s been in a strange mood. He took Mama up the mountain for a picnic today, and he just called and said they’re spending the night.” She shrugged again, trying to dismiss her concern even as she voiced it. “He sounded…upset, I’m thinking. Maybe even angry. I just wondered if Daar said something to upset him.”
Robbie gently tapped the tip of her nose. “Daar’s always upsetting Greylen, baby girl. Your papa probably just wants your mama to himself for a while.” He took hold of Kate’s arm again. “Come on, Gram, let’s get ye home.” He looked at Megan. “Ye might as well come with me now. Cat set a place for ye at our supper table. But as soon as ye sit down, Cat and I are off to our own dinner reservations at the Crooked Antler in Greenville.” He stopped when he stepped past the patiently waiting horses and looked back at Winter. “Ye can lead old Butterball home okay?”
Winter waved him away. “Sure, assuming I can wake him up.”
Robbie looked at Matt. “When I bring Megan home, I’ll probably visit with Winter a bit. I expect that will be around eleven o’clock.”
Matt, apparently receiving Robbie’s message loud and clear, simply nodded.
Winter held in a groan. Robbie was acting like she was sixteen years old, warning Matt that he would be checking up on her! Oh, for the love of—
She was almost prepared this time, when Matt’s hands came around her waist and lifted her onto Snowball’s back. Winter gathered up her reins and turned Snowball toward Megan’s sleeping horse, but Matt quickly mounted up himself and took Butterball’s reins before she could.
She still didn’t look at him; she was too darn embarrassed. Or maybe she was just plain mad enough to curse for real. The men in her life were starting to get on her nerves, not the least of which was Matheson Gregor himself, who had to trot to catch up with her.
“I noticed there’s both a lounge and restaurant at the resort,” Matt said. “You want formal dining or comfortable eats tonight?”
She had a good mind not to go at all.
Matt reached over and took hold of Snowball’s reins. “Don’t even think of refusing, Winter,”
he said softly. “It’s going to take someone bigger than your cousin to scare me off.”
Winter smiled at him even as a shiver of awareness tightened her stomach. “How about an entire family of large men?” she asked. “I have a whole army of uncles and male cousins, and not one of them is under six feet tall.”
Matt let go of Snowball’s reins and started Goose walking again, towing Butterball in his wake.
“They wouldn’t be the first army I’ve taken on, nor likely my last.”
“What exactly is it you do for a living?” Winter asked, urging Snowball to catch up.
Matt looked over once she was beside him again. “Have dinner with me tonight and I’ll tell you,” he said, his challenging gaze reflecting the colors of the deepening autumn twilight.
Winter turned off Main Street and took the forest shortcut to TarStone, which caused the world around them to darken to almost night. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll meet you at the lounge at eight.”
“No,” Matt countered with soft authority from behind her. “I’ll come to your house at eight, and we’ll walk over together.”
Winter sighed and rode the rest of the way home in silence as she kept a close watch on the woods, knowing darn well that Gesader was lurking in the shadows, just like he’d been for their entire trip to Bear Mountain and back.
Just what she needed—one more overly protective male making sure she died a virgin.
Chapter Eight
M att stood on the drawbridgeof Gù Brath and listened to the rushing water below as he contemplated the large, solid oak, windowless door in front of him. Damn if his little artist didn’t live in a castle. He felt like a knight trying to court a princess; he had the wealth and social standing, all he lacked was a suit of armor.
That, and a kingdom to carry her off to.
But then, Bear Mountain might fill that requirement, though he wished it wasn’t located quite so close to Winter’s army of tall uncles and male cousins. Robbie MacBain looked more like a warrior than a husband and father of four young children, and carried himself in a way that said he was prepared to back up his not-so-subtle warning this afternoon.
But then, Matt never could resist a challenge.
And Winter MacKeage was definitely a challenge. When he’d first seen Winter in her gallery, he couldn’t believe some starry-eyed young man hadn’t already snatched her up. But having spent the afternoon with her, Matt was beginning to think that a suit of armor might really be necessary to get within kissing distance of the aloof little wood sprite.
Winter was an exciting paradox of beauty, intelligence, and prickly independence. And like her cousin MacBain, she also had a protective streak a mile wide. She was determined to protect the old hermit and was also quite protective of her sister. All in all, Matt suspected Winter could be just as formidable as her warrior cousin, albeit employing different means to back up her bluster.
With a smile of anticipation for the evening to come, Matt finally reached out and firmly pounded the iron knocker on the door. His smile went even broader when the door suddenly swung open before he could even pull his hand away.
He lifted one brow. “You’re punctual as well,” he drawled.
“You said eight.”
“But it’s been my experience that women like being late, so they don’t appear too eager.”
She simply stared at him, nonplussed. “I’m hungry,” she finally said.
Matt gave a slight bow and held out his hand to her, just to see if she would take it. “Then I guess I better feed you.” He patted his lapel with his other hand. “I brought my platinum card to pay the enormous bill you’re going to run up.”
Just as he suspected, his goading lifted her chin and she all but slapped her hand in his. Matt folded his fingers around her delicate hand, reached in and pulled the door closed, and led her across the drawbridge. And he didn’t let go of her once they were on firm ground, despite her subtle attempts to wiggle free.
“You surprise me,” he said the moment she settled down to walk beside him, apparently resigned to her hand-holding fate.
“Surprise you how?”
“You don’t dress like the artist who painted those pictures.” Matt kept his grin to himself as he became aware of her frowning at the moonlit path ahead of them. “Except for your hair,” he clarified, lifting his hand holding hers just enough to touch the waterfall of loose curls draping down to her waist.
“As opposed to what?” she asked guilelessly. “How would the artist who painted my pictures dress?”
Matt waved his free hand at the air. “Like a drama queen trying to personify her paintings—
colorful, mysterious, otherworldly. You look lovely tonight, Winter. I especially like that you’re not wearing four-inch heels in an attempt to level the playing field. That tells me you’re very comfortable not only with yourself, but with me. And you’re wearing pants, not a skirt, which also says you’re secure in your femininity.”
Matt saw her look down at herself, and then she suddenly stopped walking and looked up at him, her moon-bathed expression once again nonplussed. “Do you always analyze your dates?”
“Only when I’m trying to distract them.”
“You’re trying to distract me? From what?”
He smiled. “From realizing that I have every intention of kissing you tonight. Want to get it over with now, or would you like to spend the evening savoring the prospect?”
Her mouth opened and closed, but not a sound emerged as she blinked up at him. Though Matt was quite pleased to see two flags of color darkening her cheeks.
He’d intended to wait, and he would have followed through with his plan, but the tiny wood sprite nervously licked her lips. Matt let go of her hand and carefully cupped her exquisitely fine face.
“Now, I think,” he whispered, bending down and gently pressing his lips to hers.
Small, strong hands immediately wrapped around his wrists, but they didn’t push him away or pull back; Winter instead went utterly still, as if testing his—or her own—intentions.
She tasted of mint, her hair surrounding him with the smell of roses as he deepened the contact by tilting her head and parting his lips. Matt drank in her fresh and wonderful flavor, and was soon rewarded—and delighted—by her response.
She was hesitant at first, maybe even shy. But then he felt Winter’s grip on his wrists relax and her neck muscles soften as she moved ever so slightly toward him and parted her own lips.
And that was when he got his first taste of that energy he’d seen in her paintings; it hummed through his body with the force of intoxicating passion.
Yes, he was definitely tasting the sweet promise of Winter’s magic.
Winter thought she was going to explode. Talk about unpredictable chemistry. If she didn’t faint from the currents of electricity coursing through her, she was going to burst into flames. Matheson Gregor kissed like a man who had no intention of stopping until he had her complete surrender. He wasn’t being demanding or aggressive; he was being…overwhelmingly gentle.
And that, Winter quickly realized, was where the danger lay.
She could easily forget she needed to exercise caution when dealing with Matt; that blindly giving herself over to him could quickly lead somewhere she wasn’t prepared to go.
Oh, but he tasted so fine. His heat simmered around her with a strength that beckoned Winter to lean in just a little bit closer, and open herself just a little bit more to the sensations churning inside her.
As if of their own accord, her hands left his wrists and slowly wrapped themselves inside his open jacket to around his waist, moving her deeper into his embrace. He answered her action by letting go of her head, carefully wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and pulling her more possessively against him as he moved his mouth over hers.
And even though she had initiated their further intimacy, Winter felt the first flush of panic. He was much too much for her. She had kissed her share of boys, but they suddenly seemed like toads when compared to this prince of a man. Her body might be willing, and curses, even her heart was galloping in pleasure, but her mind…some still-functioning corner of her mind told Winter she’d better get herself out of this mess before it was too late.
She finally broke the kiss, but instead of pulling away she buried her face in his shirt, finding it impossible to look at him—at least until her cheeks cooled and her heart quit racing.
