Page 11 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
She stared at him for a moment, then looked away toward the small stream. “Well, ye’ve checked, and I’m just fine.”
Rhys walked over to her and sat down on the moss beside her. For a long time, they sat there quietly, seemingly comfortable with the silence. A slight breeze drifted by, cold enough for him to wrap his tartan closer around his body. It shifted through her hair, some of the tresses catching the light of the moon and turning them golden.
His fingers itched to reach out and tuck the loose strands behind her ears. Instead, he balled his fists in his lap and turned his attention to the darkened stream in front of them.
Why am I so attracted to her? The enemy.
Rhys glanced from his side vision at Amara. True, she was beautiful. A wee bit short, but she was curvy with full breasts and a narrow waist. Her blonde hair was thick and wavy.
Was it as silky soft as it looked?
For a moment, he allowed the image that popped into his mind, of her straddling him in bed, her long hair curtaining them. He blocked the image when his body took notice and started to stir in anticipation.
She was a Murdoch. Daughter of his father’s murderer. Her father held Finn prisoner, doing only God knew what to him. She was supposed to be just a pawn, just a means to get his cousin free. And now, he didn’t know what to do with her.
“Ye're calm, lass, considerin’ everythin’ ye’ve been through today,” Rhys said just to distract his mind from lustful thoughts.
She turned her head and looked at him for a long minute, then sighed. “I guess I’m startin’ to accept me fate.”
He didn’t like the sound of her voice. It wasn’t defeated exactly, but there was a hint of sadness to it that bothered him.
“’Twas nae me original plan to keep ye,” he said.
“Our plans very seldom come to fruition, daenae ye think?” she said, wiser beyond her years.
“Aye, indeed…” he said and let the silence engulf them once more.
She nodded, frowning slightly. “What do ye think really happened six years ago?”
The question surprised Rhys and he raised an eyebrow. “We both ken what happened, lass.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Nay, I dinnae think we do. Me faither dinnae murder yers. I ken this with everythin’ in me. But someone did.”
“They were the only two in the room, havin’ a private discussion to make sure a truce between our two clans would stick. There was nay one else there.”
“That we ken of,” Amara argued softly. “It makes nay sense that he would take such a risk. Why murder yer faither in our home, when half yer warriors were there too? Why risk me and me maither’s lives like that?”
Rhys’s eyebrows drew down in thought. What she said made sense, but it didn’t explain what had happened. Finn had found Laird O’Donnell dead on the floor and the only person who had been around had been Laird Murdoch.
“I dinnae just lose me maither and clan members that night, I lost me faither, too,” Amara said. Her voice was so low Rhys wondered if she’d meant to speak the words aloud, but then she looked up at him, sadness highlighted by the glow of the moonlight in her eyes. “Me faither was never the same after that night.”
Rhys didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept quiet. A lot of lives had changed that night, his own included.
“Ye lost yer wife, too, aye?” she asked as if she was reading his thoughts.
He nodded briskly and looked away. He’d never forget finding her, blood pouring out of her body. Rhys had ordered some of his men to take her to safety, but they were attacked on the way, and a sword had lodged inside his wife’s chest.
When Rhys had found her, she’d still been alive. Barely. She’d smiled sadly at him while he desperately tried to stop the bleeding, then told him to take care of Daisy, their newborn daughter. Those were her last words.
“I’m sorry,” Amara said softly.
“We all lost a lot that night,” Rhys said tightly.
They were quiet for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, but then Amara spoke again.
“You have a daughter, aye?” When he looked questioningly at her, Amara smiled. “I heard yer men talkin' about her earlier. How old is she?”
“Daisy,” Rhys answered. “Her name is Daisy, and she is six years old.”
