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    His arms slid around her waist, pulling her up along his chest. His lips teased back at hers, warm and inviting. A foreign land, a near stranger, a tumble-down shack, a warm fire, and a thunderous storm outside. Perhaps none of this was real. Perhaps she was truly back in her own bed in Wessex, dreaming the very best Christmas dream of her life. Perhaps she didn’t want to wake up. Not for awhile, anyway.
    “Lass, ye dunnae need to—”
    “I want to,” she returned, tangling her fingers into his black hair and pulling his face closer for another kiss. “I’m ruined, whatever story I choose to tell. And you … I want you, Duncan. We met when we shouldn’t have. And tonight I … I feel like such a precious piece of luck shouldn’t be disregarded.”
    “Ye dunnae know me, Julia,” he returned, sitting on the askew bed with her gathered in his lap. And despite his words, he leaned in to take her mouth again.
    He stirred beneath her bottom, and she took a quick, aroused breath. “I know you’re honorable. I know you love your family. I know you’re willing to go to a great deal of trouble to help a stranger.”
    “Nae fer a stranger,” he said roughly, pulling the few remaining pins from her hair and dropping them onto the hearth—still mindful that he might have to hide her again. “Fer Julia Prentiss. I do it fer ye. Ye’re a remarkable lass, ye know.”
    “I never thought so.” Shivers going down her spine, she ran her fingers softly across his bare chest. His skin was warm, velvet above iron muscles. The body of a man who didn’t sit in clubs all day ordering pheasant and talking about cravats.
    “I’ve a belief that most people who think themselves amazing generally are nae so.” He shifted, running his mouth along her throat and nipping at her ear. “Ye’re the last thing I ever expected in my life, Julia. When I close my eyes, I’m nae even certain this isnae a dream. I mean to have ye. If ye have a different idea, ye’d best tell me before I shed my kilt again.”
    She chuckled, feeling breathless again, but excitement speeding through her like the cascading river outside. “I have the very same idea you have, Duncan.” But dream or not, there was still Lord Bellamy outside. She glanced toward the door. It was latched again, with a sturdy bar holding back the world outside. Good. She wanted nothing from out there to make its way in here. Not tonight. Not ever, truly.
    Duncan followed her gaze. “Take off that dress of yers, lass,” he said, lifting her off his lap. “No one’s getting in here again tonight.”
    Standing, he first threw another log on the fire, then walked to the door and jammed one of the chairs under the latch for good measure.
    “The last time this door was barred was against the Sasannach army,” he said, facing her again. “Now I do it to keep an English lass safe from Highlanders.” With a grin he pulled the end of his kilt free and slowly unwrapped it from around his waist, letting it fall in a long, plaid tail to the floor.
    “Not all Highlanders,” she murmured, standing up to unbutton the back of her dress. Coming out of the lake he’d been impressive. Now, warm and aroused, he was simply … magnificent.
    “Let me help ye with that.” He moved up behind her, unfastening the last of the buttons. Slowly he tugged the sleeves down her shoulders, kissing her bared skin as he went.
    Julia shut her eyes, moaning at the delight of the sensation. For a heartbeat she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t escaped Bellamy, but just as swiftly she shoved that thought aside. This wasn’t Hugh Fersen. This was Duncan Lenox, and he was invited. He was welcome.
    His fingers brushed across her bared breasts, and she snapped her eyes open again, startled. Lowering her gaze she watched him do it again, felt his palms close over her nipples. “Oh, my,” she breathed.
    “Ye like that, lass?” he whispered, kissing the nape of her neck.
    “Yes.