“Ah, Winter,” he said on a sigh. “You’re as beautiful as the pictures you paint. Give me a taste of your magic, and let me feel what you feel.”

If wishes were horses and beggars could ride, then Winter decided she was about to gallop straight into her wildest fantasy. With her heart racing faster than her mind could keep up, she slowly leaned down and softly touched her mouth to his.

He let out another sigh that parted his lips, and Winter pulled in his familiar taste, easing higher until she was fully draped across his broad chest. His chest rose on an indrawn breath that he held, and she could feel the pounding strength of his heart thumping against hers. The knowledge that she was affecting him as much as he was her gave Winter the confidence to lift her hand and touch the side of his face as she deepened her kiss.

He tasted so good, felt so fine beneath her, so solid and warm and substantial; the charged energy of the mountain hummed through him into her. Prickles of electricity tightened her skin even while embers of awareness flared deep in the pit of her stomach. Winter parted her own lips and touched her tongue to his, shyly exploring the heady sensations that boldly urged her to move her fingers over the taut lines of his rugged face.

He’d asked to feel her magic, but it was his magic that caught Winter up in its spell; two hearts beating against each other, lips touching and tasting and savoring, the energies of the timeless universe dancing in mystical harmony.

This journey of separate souls seeking each other, that’s what was happening. The magic of being here—with this man, on this mountain, on this storm-energized night—was what Winter had been waiting her whole life to experience.

Matt suddenly turned his head from hers, ending their kiss, his chest expanding on a deep, shuddering breath. “Ye’re one second away from making me break ma promise to ye,” he softly growled.

Winter blinked at him through the darkness, crashing back to reality with a jarring thud that made her rear up in surprise. “You have a brogue.”

There was just enough moonlight to see Matt’s eyes flare and his hands—still behind his head

—tighten into fists. He took another calming breath. “A throwback to my youth,” he said, his enigmatic gaze locked on hers. “I was born in Scotland.” He lifted his elbows in a sort of shrug, still keeping his hands behind his head. “When I get…er…” He suddenly grinned. “When I get completely focused on something, I tend to regress. And hanging out with you today seems to have brought my accent closer to the surface.”

Winter rolled away and lay on her back beside him, clasping her hands on her stomach as she stared up at the churning clouds dancing around the moonlight. “Did you drop the Mac from your name?

Is it really MacGregor ?”

“No. Just Gregor .”

“Do you know what Matheson means?”

“I know the son part means son of.”

“Aye. And Mathe is Gaelic for “bear.” Your name means son of the bear.”

He rolled toward her, propping his head on one hand and laying his other hand on his thigh.

“Then I guess I own the right mountain, don’t I?”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I build jets. Military as well as private.”

Winter digested that. It fit, she decided—a powerful man making powerful aircraft. “We saw a small jet fly in yesterday. Was that you? Do you pilot your own plane?”

He nodded, reaching over to lift her blowing hair off her face and tucking it behind her ear. “Did you feel the energy, Winter?” he asked softly, his hand returning to his thigh, but not before she saw it ball into a fist. “That wasn’t the mountain humming, was it? That was you.”

Winter felt a blush scorch her cheeks, and she went back to studying the sky. “We’re all part of the same energy,” she told him. “You, me, the mountain, the animals, the storm moving in, we’re all connected.”

“I like the idea of that,” he said, his voice deep with an emotion she couldn’t quite define. “I like the idea of being connected to you, Winter MacKeage.” He suddenly sat up. “But in the interest of keeping my promise that you’re safe tonight,” he said, turning to smile at her, “and my interest in not getting stomped by your cousin, I better take you home now.”

Winter also sat up, capturing her blowing hair and pulling it over her shoulder again. “I think you better.”

He stood, then reached out to help her up. Winter let him pull her to her feet, but Matt kept her momentum going until she was pressed against his chest with his arms wrapped firmly around her. “One more taste, I think,” he whispered, just as he lowered his lips to hers.

He was definitely doing the kissing this time, completely in charge, once again taking up the chase. Winter’s heart rejoiced as his mouth moved over hers with a gentle aggression that sent another charge of electricity coursing through her. She hadn’t scared him away, she realized, as she parted her lips on a relieved sigh and kissed him back.

She melted into the hard, solid heat of his body, and Matt slid one hand down the base of her spine and pulled her fully against him. Winter immediately discovered just how aroused he was, but instead of being alarmed, she boldly moved her hips into his.

Matt lifted his head with a snarl that sounded a lot like Gesader when her pet was disgruntled, and Winter buried her face in Matt’s shirt with a smile of delight. His chest rumbled with a lingering growl as he held her so tightly that his expanding torso squeezed the air from her own lungs.

“Dammit, lady, ye best not be amused,” he growled in her hair, his lips sending another shiver through her. “Ye should be slapping my face. No,” he said, gripping her shoulders and setting her away,

“I should be slapping my own face.” He took hold of her hand and started leading her out of the clearing toward the truck.

“Your blanket,” she said, attempting to get it.

He didn’t let her go, but kept dragging her through the thick woods. “Leave it,” he growled. “I’

m taking ye home. Now.”

Winter let him lead her away in silence, unable to keep her smile contained. Bears didn’t have much of a tail, but she’d just managed to give this one’s tail a good tug.

And his reaction looked very promising.

Chapter Ten

T he storm hit just after midnight, and Winter lay in bed listening to the rain beating on the windows, her scattered thoughts and still-humming emotions making sleep impossible. She reached down to where Gesader usually slept, felt only the quilt, and smiled. Her panther, obviously annoyed at her, had given Winter a throaty snarl when she’d let him in the house, then had padded off to bed with Megan.

It never did take much to put Gesader’s nose out of joint, and apparently Winter’s being on the mountain with Matt had angered her pet. She knew Gesader had been up there. Heck, he’d probably been crouched in the bushes not twenty feet away.

When Matt had all but dragged her back to his truck—in utter silence except for her heart screaming with joy—Winter had noticed several strands of black hair on the windshield when the interior lights had come on. Gesader had been letting her know that he’d been near them the whole time, and that he hadn’t liked being forced to stay hidden.

The night usually belonged to just the two of them, when Winter would paint her nighttime scenes and Gesader would doze beside her. He was a possessive pet, and Winter had never considered how her having a boyfriend might affect him.

Boyfriend, Winter thought with a grin, testing the word in her mind. Did kissing her senseless make Matt her boyfriend? “No,” she whispered to the dark ceiling, shaking her head. That was too corny a label for Matheson Gregor. When she thought of a boyfriend, Winter pictured Patrick Rooney, a nervous teenager holding a wrist corsage, shaking in his polished shoes as he stood at the front door with her papa, waiting to take her to their senior prom.