Page 75 of The Highlander Who Loved Me
He never should’ve kissed her. Never should’ve touched her. His hunger for her wouldn’t be sated in one night. Even if he could appease the greedy demands of his body, he’d never be able to quell the ache deep within his soul. His was a need far more enduring than the most potent carnal desire.
He’d never met a woman who kindled a fire in him like Johanna did, a flame that bedding her would only stoke. He’d never needed anyone like he needed her. And once he had her, he’d never be able to forget the hunger in his heart—for her kiss and her touch and her smile.
Bah!He shoved the thought aside. She was a comely lass. There was no denying that. When she looked at him, a lively spark brightened her face. Even when he’d vexed her, the spirit and intelligence in her dark sapphire eyes was damn near irresistible. Like a stormy sea, drawing him in. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d wind up over his head, drowning in need for her.
Connor bolted the door behind them and set about his first task. He’d need to secure the book. At least, as much as was possible in this place. At this stage of his mission, he trusted no one but Gerard. Even Johanna posed a risk, desperate as she was to get to the bairn.
After studying the map carefully, etching every detail in his memory, he’d left the document with Serena and secured the book in a small, metal strong-box. The volume had to be concealed from unscrupulous eyes. Even his allies could not know the tome’s location. Entrusting Johanna with that knowledge was a risk, but he had to take that chance. If something happened to him, she would need to barter the book with Cranston, damn the scoundrel’s black soul.
He kicked the braided hearthrug to the side, crouched down, and tested the floorboards. Nailed tight, but he’d remedy that soon enough. Fishing asgian-dubhfrom his boot, he slid the tip of the blade beneath a long-worn oak plank and pried up the wood with several well-placed tugs to create a make-shift vault. Placing the strong-box within the opening, he replaced the board and spread the rug over it.
“You’ll need this.” He pressed the lock-box key into Johanna’s palm and closed her fingers around it. “If anything happens to me, take the book and get as far from here as you can.”
Was it his imagination, or had emotion flickered in her eyes? She rubbed her arms briskly, as if to deflect the chill in the room.
“My, you’ve gotten grim, haven’t you?”
“I’ll get the fire going,” he said, giving himself a reason to turn away from her.
She went to the chest near the window and poured water in the basin. Taking up one of the soft cloths that had been placed by the pitcher, she dabbed at her face and neck. Connor forced his attention to the task at hand, kindling the fire even as the thought of his mouth adoring the sweet-smelling column of her throat sent a fresh rush of blood to his groin.
By the time the flames were crackling, she’d moved to the window. Peeling back the curtains, she peered into the darkness.
“Step away, Johanna. There’s no telling who’s lurking out there.”
She threw a glance over her shoulder. “You think we’ve been followed?”
“Ye need to be cautious.”
Her backbone went stiff. “I’ve half a notion you’re trying to frighten me.”
“Nae, lass. But ye need to understand the truth of what we’re facing.” He rose and went to the door. “I’ve some business with the innkeeper.”
She folded her arms and fixed him with a look that would strike a chill in the hardiest of souls. “I can only imagine the nature of that business.”
Was that jealousy flashing in her gaze? The hint of fire pleased him for reasons he didn’t want to consider. “Not the lass. Her man. There’s a debt that needs to be settled.”
“This seems a peculiar time to be concerned with one’s finances.”
“This debt has nothing to do with money.” Freeing the latch, he opened the door. “Keep this locked. No one but me is to enter.”
He headed down the stairs and spotted Finn McKittrick in the kitchen, helping himself to a carrot his wife had peeled for the night’s stew. Never one for pleasantries, the operative eyed Connor with an impatience he didn’t try to hide. “Brenna tells me ye’ve brought a woman.”
“She’s under my protection.”
“What do we need to know?”
“Just that. I’m responsible for her safety.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Ye bring danger under my roof, and ye don’t care t’tell me why? If I didn’t owe ye—”
“But ye do. So ye’re going to do yer best to help me keep this lass safe.”
McKittrick gave his head a rough shake. “I need to know why ye’re here, MacMasters. Who’s after her?”
Connor debated his response. He trusted Finn McKittrick and his wife. To a point.
“Geoffrey Cranston,” he said finally. If the bastard’s men came after Johanna, Finn and Brenna would need to be prepared.
