Dawn Marie Hamilton -- Writer of Romance

Laurie opened her eyes a crack. Her head pounded, her vision blurred.

This wasn't good. Those couldn't be two, huge, leather-clad feet inches from her face.

She opened her eyes wider. Raised her gaze higher.

Those feet--the ones that couldn't be there--was it possible they attached to two muscular calves wrapped in soft napped animal skins?

Her gaze moved higher still. Bare knees. Saffron linen and plaid wool.

Farther up, she took in all of the man who towered over her.

His piercing blue eyes bored into her.

She gasped. This was her man, the one from her heated dreams and visions. The man she didn't believe existed. This man was the man who made her insides flip-flop.

Unsure of what happened to her, she stared at him in confusion. An attempt to stand left her dizzy. Unsteady on her feet, she swayed. The stranger's image wavered before her eyes.

His large calloused hands gripped her arms and a strange jolt of energy coursed through her body. He quickly released her.

Again, she swayed.

He reached out a second time and took hold of her upper arms.

The flash of desire in his eyes made her shiver.

He smiled and leaned forward and bent his head to hers, brushed her lips with his, and kissed her deep. His tongue delved into her mouth, coaxing a like response.

Her first instinct was to struggle. Holding her body rigid, she fisted her hands, which he'd trapped within his embrace. She forced her hands open and pressed her palms against his hard chest, a vain attempt to push him away.

The current flowing between them was overpoweringly seductive. For several moments, she wavered between fighting him and succumbing to the delicious sensations swamping her. He deepened the kiss, and the battle ended. She clasped hold of the front of his shirt with shaky hands and kissed him back with all the pent-up passion within her.

Satiny lips anchored her in the storm of unfamiliar sensation. Intense pleasure vibrated along her body. She opened her eyes a slit to peer at him in awe. The intensity of the man's shocking kiss matched the masculine power burning in his startling blue eyes.

His grip on her tightened.

* * *

Patrick growled deep in his throat as a jolt of power coursed through his body. Their kiss, potent and deep, an intoxicating aphrodisiac, became more and more heated as the energy charge sizzled. At first, he'd been shocked by the arc of power. But he couldn't stop himself from claiming what he sensed belonged to him. What started as an unconscious display of dominance became a much more meaningful symbol of possession. His forceful kiss demanded surrender.

She melted against him, and he savored his victory as her response became as impassioned as his.

He stroked and caressed her soft curves. Her well-rounded backside fit perfectly into his large hands as if she'd been made for him. He dragged his lips away from hers for only a moment as he took a firm hold of her buttocks and lifted her off the ground. The movement released her hands from their prison.

She curled her arms around his neck as he repositioned her against his length.

He pulled her tight against his chest, molding her to the contours of his body. The proof of his unrestrained arousal was the hard pressure he intimately pressed against her at the juncture of her thighs. He lost all rational thought as he rubbed his body against the lass. The friction of his movements caused a gasp to escape her lips.

He took her sweet breath into his mouth and released a moan of his own.

His need became insatiable as tantalizing pleasure pulsed through his inflamed body. He felt her breasts tighten into hard buds through the linen of his leine. His senses reeled as he took her mouth again, relishing her unique flavor, inhaling her intoxicating scent. Cinnamon and wine and roses.

At the sound of a snapping twig, he stiffened. He popped his eyes open to the sight of his cousin stepping from the trees. The warrior cleared his throat.

The lass came back to herself and tried to push Patrick away. He reluctantly ended the kiss, taking a step back, but still held her steady. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes. Hers were filled with confusion, fear and desire mingling with the passionate heat still flowing between them. He didn't want to acknowledge what his eyes must reveal.

Again, Stephen cleared his throat.

The powerful surge of energy dissolved, and Patrick quickly released the lass and took another step back. Although he refused to show it, the experience shook him. Somehow, in the deepest elemental part of his soul, he knew she belonged to him. He'd instinctively branded her with his bold kiss, staking his claim.

He glared at his cousin. "You followed me. Why?"

"To guard your back, you dolt. Elspeth sent me after you. She is worried. You have been acting odd." A smirk curled his lips. "I see 'twas a lass that had you a wandering. Are you bewitched then?"

Patrick uttered a loud, "Hummph!" and glanced at the delectable lass.

Slower to recover, she raised a trembling hand to her swollen lips.

His blood ran heavy and his cock jerked within the folds of his plaide.

"The lass is a wee bit befuddled from your ardor," Stephen said, still grinning. "Is this your vanishing lass then? The one from your visions?"

Her cheeks flushed a lovely crimson before she glanced at the ground.

Patrick ran an unsteady hand over his hair. With a great deal of effort, he forced a blank expression to his face. A beam of moonlight cast a glow over her curvaceous form. He studied her, raking her with his eyes. Starting with the glorious mass of golden curls pinned atop her head, moving downward, lingering for a moment on her blue eyes filled with fear and perhaps a spark of defiance.

Then slowly he moved his gaze farther downward until it reached her toes. He took in everything, missing nothing. Including the plaide wrapped around her shoulders clasped by a familiar brooch, the fabric clutched in a death grip by a delicate hand with beautiful, elegant fingers, each nail the color of oyster shells. Unusual. Enticing. He clearly imagined the sensual sensation of those fingernails grazing across his bare chest and other more sensitive skin.

He shivered and his breathing quickened. He felt the hard thud of his heart as his body tightened more with desire. He fought for control.

"A bheil Gaidhlig agad?"

The lass stared at him, opened her mouth as if to speak, and then shut it again.

Sassenach. Switching to the language of the Lowlands, he asked, "Who are you, lass? What are you doing in this wood alone? Where is your escort?"

"Could this be a trap? An ambush?" Stephen asked.

Patrick glanced at his cousin. Stephen pulled a knife from his boot, his gaze searching the surrounding area.

Patrick ignored him and returned his attention to the lass. Her eyes widened at the sight of the sharp-edged blade. Pushing her behind him and hanging on to her arm, he responded to Stephen in Gaelic. "Munn believes the lass not to be a threat."

* * *

Laurie's body still thrummed, taut with desire not sated. She swallowed hard and tried to pull out of the man's grasp, but failed.

The now familiar pressure of his grip no longer frightened her. She knew in her soul the man who kissed her with such tender passion would never physically harm her. Still, panic hovered too close for comfort.

Should she run as soon as he released her? She didn't believe she'd be able to escape, and the last thing she wanted to do was enrage the two men.

Taking her first good look around, she realized she was no longer in the woods near her cottage and garden. Instead, she stood at the edge of a dark, dense forest near what appeared to be a one-room timber hut with a dilapidated thatch roof. "This isn't Kansas," she whispered under her breath. Her heart beat erratically.

The man, whose name must be Patrick, yanked her in front of him. "What is Kansas? Speak, lass. I command it."

His aggressive attitude provoked her anger. Something snapped inside her and she forgot her fear. She pulled away and glared at him. Then ignoring him, she turned to the other man. "Excuse me, sir, my name is Laurie Bernard. I'm confused, tired and very frightened. I don't know where I am or how I got here. I just want to return home. Can you help me? Please."

She sneaked a peek at Patrick to see his reaction.

* * *

Patrick clenched and unclenched his fingers, only to clench them again. He had the strongest urge to smash one of his fists into Stephen's grinning face.

He didn't like being ignored, especially not by his comely lass. His? By the Saints, what was he thinking? His? He didn't understand the sudden possessiveness he felt toward her or any of the other emotions she awakened. However, he had claimed her with his impetuous kiss, and she now belonged to him.

With a wave of his hand, he gave his cousin a signal to leave them alone. Stephen seemed reluctant to depart, but with another sweep of the area with his keen gaze, he whirled on his heel and took the path through the wood toward the castle.

As soon as his cousin was out of sight, Patrick turned to face the lass. He didn't like his reaction to her. He understood lust and the power of dominance, but not this possessiveness or protectiveness she provoked. The last thing he wanted was this kind of complication in his life.

But it was too late. He'd already claimed her.

He took a step toward her. She stepped back. Her eyes darted to the woods as if she planned to follow his cousin. Patrick felt his jaw tighten.

He took another step forward.

This time, she bit her bottom lip and held her ground. They silently contemplated each other for quite some time.

With a forced smile and a wave of his arm, he said, "This way, Mistress Laurie, we go to the hall where we will unravel this puzzle. And I assure you, we will." He took her by the elbow to guide her to the woodland path.

She dug her heels in, pulling back. "Wait. I don't even know who you are."

"Patrick MacLachlan of Clan MacLachlan, your humble servant." He bent at the waist in a formal bow.

The lass had the nerve to snort. "I don't believe there's a humble bone in your body and you are definitely no one's servant."

"Quite true. And you are nae innocent." He couldn't resist taunting her. "Do you throw yourself at every man you meet along the way?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop her retort. He had to work to suppress his growing irritation. "There is something you need to understand, lass. I have claimed you as my own, with my cousin Stephen as my witness. I would choose to believe you are an innocent and not a wanton. You belong to me now. If I ever find you with another man you will not enjoy the consequences."

* * *

"How dare you! You don't own me," Laurie sputtered. She couldn't believe the gall of the infuriating man.

"You became mine when you returned my kiss," Patrick said.

"Are you for real?"

"Aye. Come this way." He again took a firm hold on her elbow, daring her with his eyes to ignore his command. ""

"Phuff." She exhaled and jumped from the man's grasp. "Why did you kiss me?"

His full lips slowly curved at the corners then widened into a devilish grin.

Her mind turned to mush.

"I wanted to." He chuckled, and the rumble from his chest did enticing things to her lower body.

"Do you always do whatever you want?"

Still smiling, he nodded. "Aye. Now come."

"No." Laurie's anger flared as she met the challenge in his eyes.

Patrick looked at the darkening sky.

She followed his gaze. Clouds were moving in fast, dimming the brightness of the moon.

"Suit yourself, lass." He whirled and strode off into the woods.

Laurie glanced around. Left here alone was definitely not what she wanted. "No. Wait! I'm coming."