Highlander's Stolen Bride

Chapter One Rosalyn had the dream again. It was the same dream she had been having for years, but the ending would always fade, leaving her flushed and breathless. Now he had become a part of the dream. The faces had become theirs, the passion a scorching flame that would heat her skin and have her waking with her nightclothes clinging to her. She was a woman with secret desires -- a woman with an acute sensual instinct, living her private fantasies in the darkest part of the night, in the deepest recesses of her mind, where she could be brazen and audacious. She had been sixteen the day sexuality awoke inside her untutored body. She had been attending a soiree with her parents. She had gotten lost in the enormous mansion and found herself at the opposite end of the house. She heard a noise behind a closed door, and thought she would find someone there to help her. She knocked upon the door, but the noises within had only grown louder. She feared the woman she heard crying was in trouble, injured perhaps. Rosalyn opened the door, and stumbled upon something devastatingly arousing to her senses. A woman, wearing only a maid's apron around her waist, was down on her knees in front of a tall, fiercely built man with nary a stitch of clothes on. The woman's golden hair cascaded unbound down her back and was clasped in the man's meaty hand as he guided her head forward. Rosalyn could barely contain her shocked gasp as his thick, hard rod disappeared inch by inch into the woman's mouth, her wet lips clasping and sucking the silky head. The man's head was tipped back, his lips parted, his breath releasing in a groaning hiss as his stiff member stroked in and out of the woman's mouth, her hands guiding it, savoring it. He shoved her hands away and pushed forward so the whole of his staff was covered by her moist lips, his movements becoming increasingly frenetic until a moan spilled from his lips, and a white froth erupted from the tip of his member. Rosalyn stood in shock, unable to move. She must have made a sound, because the man shot a glance toward the door. No look of anger crossed his face. Instead, he smiled, as though pleased to have been caught in such a lascivious act. "You like what you saw, young one?" he asked in a deep rasp. "Come back to me when the throbbing between your legs needs appeasing. Big John will pleasure you." He grasped the chin of the female still on her knees before him and said, "Won't I, my dear?" The woman looked at Rosalyn with a cocked eyebrow and a wicked grin. "Oh, yes, he certainly will." Their laughter followed Rosalyn as she raced down the hallway, stopping only when she ran out of breath. She felt scared -- and yet her breasts tingled, and a strange moistness had accumulated in her nether region. Since that day, Lady Rosalyn Carmichael had used her dreams as a tool as she waited for him -- the one. The only man she would grant her virginity. And as the night wore on toward the morning, her dreams focused on that man. A man who had walked out of her dreams and into her real life. He had eyes of velvet blue, piercing and intense. Black hair glossy as a raven's wing. A body of rugged elegance, brawny beneath his tailored exterior. His beauty mocked all those around him as he smiled at her in a faintly wicked way from across the ballroom. Rosalyn shivered as he approached, unable to pull her admiring gaze from his tall form, noting how he moved with careless grace, leaving her slightly dazed and barely aware of her best friend, Francine Fitz Hugh, who stood beside her. Fancy's guardian, Lucien Kendall, walked alongside the darkly beautiful man. When the stranger stopped before Rosalyn and spoke, his deep, low voice tripping along her nerves in the most disconcerting fashion, sGeorge, Melanie is the author of 'Highlander's Stolen Bride ', published 2006 under ISBN 9780743442756 and ISBN 074344275X.