Page 6 of Taken By the Heartless Highlander
Flustered, Keira looked away, clearing her throat and trying to see if what he said was true—am I a guest or a prisoner?
“If ye’re thinkin’ of climbin’ out the window, I shall pull ye back inside by yer hair if I have to.”
His words were heavy with threat and she felt a tremor run through her as she looked again at the narrow windows, wondering how high up she was. All she could see was sky.
“Who are ye?” she asked softly.
“Who areye?” he replied. “Ye came into me lands bringin’ a mob with ye. By rights, ye should be in the dungeons where I can keep an eye on yerwitchcraft.”
She drew in a narrow breath, but knew that if he had truly wanted her to be a prisoner, she would be shackled and chained in some rat-infested cell by now.
She looked down at her fingers. The familiar greenish color around her nails never truly faded, stained by years of working with her hands to make poultices and tinctures.
“I am nay witch,” she said firmly. “And if I were, I wouldnae use me magic to hurt people. I heal the sick; that is me only purpose.”
“That priest doesnae seem to agree with ye, lass,” he stated with a stern expression. In the confines of the room, he looked even larger than he had amongst the trees.
“Aye, that he doesnae,” she replied. “Ye will have to make yer own judgment. Ye daenae ken me or him.”
He took a step forward and she felt her heart flutter as he loomed over the bed. He stared down at her, his eyes dark and assessing. He had an air of quiet authority, a man who was in command of every situation, just as he had been in the woods—there was no apology in his gaze, no hesitation.
“I took a risk in savin’ ye. The least ye can do is tell me yer name and why those people believe ye to be a witch.”
“I want nay trouble. I dinnae ask ye to help me, Me laird. I would have lost them in the woods by nightfall.”
He tutted under his breath and shook his head, moving to lean on the bottom post of the bed, his huge arms across his chest.
“Ye had it all under control, is that it? And how do ye ken me forests? Have ye been there before, stealin’ from me lands to fill yer cauldron?”
She shook her head in exasperation. “And I suppose ye have a list of all the plants that grow in yer forests do ye?”
He didn’t respond, his eyes never leaving hers. Keira could not hold his gaze. There was something about the way this man looked at her that required—no, demanded—that she explain herself. She was powerless to resist.
“I go there to pick mushrooms sometimes,” she confessed with a sigh. “They are a useful medicine for stomach complaints.”
“I see. I shall make sure me servants have an inventory from now on, then,” he said.
“I only ever took a small number. I wouldnae take them all.”
“Steal them all, you mean?”
She crossed her arms over her chest at that, mirroring his stance and feeling put upon by his questions. “Which ones are ye missin’ then?” she challenged, waiting to see what he would say.
He scratched his chin thoughtfully, a wry look on his face.
“White ones,” he hazarded, and she couldn’t help it as a smirk spread across her face.
“That is a lucky guess Me laird.”
But as she spoke, another lance of pain shot through her temple, and she winced, her fingers coming up to brush against the lump on her head again.
She leaned back, resting her weight against the pillows banked behind her.
“How did ye plan to escape?” he asked, his expression grave. “If it werenae for me, ye’d be dead by now,” he said solemnly.
“I was gettin’ away from them.”
“They would nae have given up.”
