Page 12 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
He saw the moment realization struck Amara, that Daisy had been just an infant when her mother was killed. She winced, then shook her head.
“But you dinnae turn sour on yer daughter, did ye?” she asked, her tone full of sorrow and confusion. “Ye dinnae blame her for yer wife’s death?”
“Of course nae,” Rhys said, insulted she would ask such a thing. He would do anything for his daughter, happily give his life if it saved hers.
“I dinnae think ye did,” Amara said. “I think me faither blames me, though. For me maither’s death, I mean.”
“Nay, surely he?—”
“I left her,” Amara said suddenly, her voice high and wobbly. “We were tryin’ to escape, and we ran past some warriors fightin’. Blood was,” she stopped to take a deep breath. “Blood from one of them splashed in me face, me eyes, and I let go of me maither’s hand to wipe it away. When I could open me eyes again, I couldnae find her. That was the last time I’d seen her. If I had just stayed strong…”
“Daenae, lass,” Rhys said softly. “Even me own stomach turns when blood gets into me mouth. There was nothin’ ye could do. It wasnae yer fault.”
She stared at him, her eyes casting an almost desperate look as if she wanted to believe him but dared not.
“Tell me the truth, Laird O’Donnell. Laird to Lady,” she said after a few seconds. His eyebrows rose at the formal tone, but nodded. “Did me faither… did he abandon me to ye?”
Rhys winced, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown. His throat tightened. He didn’t want to tell her how horrible her father had been. He couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her spirit crushed, of tears forming in those big brown eyes.
He turned away without answer.
“Rhys, please. I just want to ken the truth. If I should hope that me faither still has a shred of love for me, or if he truly doesnae.”
Her pleading only made it worse. He gritted his teeth and got to his feet. Pushing a hand through his hair, he started pacing, agitation showing in every step.
“Leave it be, lass,” he grumbled.
Amara got up and stood to face him. “I cannae,” she said simply. She didn’t sound angry or frustrated, just resigned. “I have to ken. Please tell me the truth.”
Rhys swung around to face her. “Why? Why is this so important to ye?”
She didn’t back down. “What were hisexactwords?”
“Why does that matter, lass?” he tried again. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. She was acting like a dog with a juicy bone, and he doubted she’d give up on her quest to be hurt by her father even more. “They were naught but words.”
She frowned and tilted her chin up, a sign he was beginning to recognize as stubbornness. “Ye think I daenae ken he has forsaken me?” she demanded, her voice rising with anger and hurt. “Ye think I dinnae figure that out the instant ye rode back to the camp, lookin’ all sour and gloomy?”
Her hands, balled into fists, went to her hips as she met him squarely. “Aye, I ken me faither had left me for the wolves. I had hoped he’d had another plan, but even as I thought it, I ken ‘twas nae true.”
She took a step closer to him, then another, until they were facing each other with barely an inch between them.
“Now, Laird, please give me the respect of honoring me wishes,” she demanded. “I have a right to ken.”
Rhys wanted nothing more than to get her to stop talking, to stop asking about her father and his horrible words. She continued to look up at him with those large brown eyes, waiting impatiently for him to repeat the words and hurt her more.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and his lips actually tingled. He could almost feel the softness of her lips on his, taste her sweetness, feel her lush body pressed against his as he devoured her mouth in the hottest kiss either of them had ever had.
Rhys sucked his breath in through clenched teeth. His entire body was on fire, demanding he just lean down those few little inches separating them and claim her mouth with his.
Her breath stilled then sped up. His gaze moved to her chest, watching it rise more rapidly as she breathed more quickly. She must sense his desire and was responding to it, driving him even more mad.
Before he knew what he was doing, Rhys found himself leaning down. He watched her eyes widen, and inwardly smiled when she didn’t move away. He leaned closer, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. Even though he knew it was a bad idea, Rhys was going to kiss her.
“There ye are!”
Rhys jerked his head back at the sound of Myles’ voice.
“I’ve been lookin’ all over for the two of ye,” he continued. His eyes shot between Rhys and Amara, a disapproving frown forming.
