Highland Storm Read Free

surprisingly warm. How could he be, soaked to the bone as he was? His muscles were rock-hard and smooth. Was he like a stone that absorbed the heat of the sun and held it for a while after it had set? Whatever the explanation, he was hot. The stark contrast to the chilly air was such a temptation that Isla had to keep herself from pushing her body against his, from allowing herself to mould to his form.
    When Briar finally calmed, Alexander rose and wrapped his arms around her, remarkably strong and impossibly warm.
    “What are ye doing?” she demanded, her heart speeding as he lifted her from the ground, though whether it was from alarm or excitement she wasn’t quite sure.
    “Gettin’ ye out of the rain,” he answered stoically.
    Isla winced as something small and hard hit the side of her head, followed by another, and another, and another…
    Hail , as if it couldnae get any worse…
    “Just put me on my horse,” she said in as commanding a tone as she could muster.
    “Your horse is lame,” he replied, his voice as firm as his body.
    Isla eyed Briar askance and saw that he pranced nervously on three of his feet, favouring the fourth that had lost its shoe. What had he done to it in that mud hole? Resolve-weakening heat radiated from the Gordon’s chest, even through his soaked shirt, as he carried her. He casually seized Briar’s reins and made a clicking sound to his own horse, and the great sorrel beast followed, ambling along beside him with its reins hanging free. Isla eyed it, impressed, and wished Briar could have behaved half so well and saved her this whole mess.
    The Gordon finally lowered her to the ground when they’d crossed the treacherously muddy road and found shelter at the edge of the forest at its side. There, the boughs of pines, rowans and oaks deflected most of the hail. Isla watched curiously from where the Gordon had deposited her against the base of a pine as he tethered both of their horses to trees and began to strip small branches off a nearby aspen. When he’d gathered an armful, he started weaving them in and out of the branches that hung over her head, creating a thicker roof of foliage that sheltered her completely from the hail. She was reluctantly grateful as balls of ice glanced off his shoulders and bounced to the pine needles below. He didn’t flinch, even when they struck his face and angry red patches sprung up on his cheek where he’d been hit. But then, if he built the shelter a thousand times and was struck by lightning in the process, it still wouldn’t right the Gordons’ wrongs. She glared at him stubbornly as the coppery scent of blood teased her nostrils, a phantom that was gone as soon as she’d sensed it.
    “So, what’s your name?” he asked, settling casually to the ground beside her when he’d finished.
    She eyed him warily, pushing visions of bloodstained tartan from her mind. He was a bit too close for comfort—the heat that radiated from his body was warming her again, and highly disconcerting memories of his strong arms plagued her. But if she asked him to move any further away, he’d be exposed to the hail. She couldn’t ask him to do that—not when he’d built the shelter for her in the first place, even if he w as a Gordon. And not when she needed his body beside her own—for its heat, of course.
    “It’s Isla. Isla Forbes .”
    He nodded, sending droplets of water flying from a few stray, dark locks. “I’m Alexander,” was all he said. There was no need to add ‘Gordon’—Isla was anything but likely to forget his surname. An awkward silence stretched between them, during which Briar laid back his ears and pawed the ground as another loud peal of thunder sounded.
    “And what are ye doin’ ridin’ out here on your own in a storm?” Alexander eventually asked.
    “I didnae ken it was goin’ to storm,” she replied, eyeing his soaking shirt, which still clung to his lean, hard body like so much wet paper. “And ye didnae ken,