Page 10 of Highlander of Steel
How could any woman notdwell on such things when Laird MacNairn looked like he did? It hardly mattered that he was as intimidating as he was handsome, for it was the handsome part that had its wicked way with her mind.
Still, that didn’t mean he could just slip into her room and do as he pleased.
“With respect, ye can leave now,” she said tartly. “And daenae come back either. I might be a prisoner, but even a prisoner is permitted the sanctity of their cell.”
Killian leaned forward and put the teacup in her hand, his fingers—the skin roughened by battle and, presumably, pulling ropes—curling around hers to make them close around the cup.
He settled back into his chair, with no indication whatsoever that he planned to leave.
It was at that moment, as she brought the teacup to her lips with some trepidation, that Ailis realized she wasn’t wearing anything but a nightdress. A flimsy shift that the maid had procured for her.
Almost spilling the tea for a second time, she hastened to pull the blankets up to her chest. She held them there with one hand, blushing furiously, as she took a sip of tea with the other. Bitter and earthy, the barley brew had the odd effect of making her throat even drier.
“Who hurt ye?” Killian asked abruptly.
“What?” she choked out, not sure if the tea was actually poison or just made differently here. “What do ye mean?”
Killian quirked an eyebrow, as if she were stupid. “Who hurt ye?” he asked again, still in the same tone.
She frowned at him until he rolled his eyes and added, “What were ye dreamin’ about? Who was hurtin’ ye?”
“Oh! That!” She wished she could pull the blankets all the way over her head. “Nay one was hurtin’ me. I was hurtin’ meself.”
His eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”
“Nae intentionally, of course,” she mumbled, her face growing hotter by the second. “It was… Well, it was just a nightmare, meLaird. I daenae ken what else to say about it. Maybe ye daenae have nightmares, so ye daenae understand. It was nothin’.”
He leaned forward in his chair, his hand coming to rest almost possessively on the edge of the bed. He made a quiet hum of disbelief at the back of his throat, his blue eyes—black in the dim light of the room—seemingly searching her face for a better explanation.
“It didnae sound like nothin’,” he insisted.
She shrugged. “I daenae ken what else to tell ye. It was just a nightmare; they usually daenae make much sense. But nay one was hurtin’ me.” She paused. “Although it’s rather ironic that ye’d ask me that when ye’rethe one who snatched me away from me home. Now that ye mention it, me stomach is still a little bruised from bein’ carried over yer shoulder.”
“I gave ye the choice,” he replied simply, rising from his chair.
She didn’t know how to stop him as he sank onto the edge of the bed and reached over, pressing his callused palm against her abdomen. The heat of his skin through the blankets and the thin fabric of her nightdress burned hotter than the fire in the grate.
“Here?” he asked.
She gulped. Both of her hands were occupied, so she couldn’t swat hishand away.
“Please, daenae do that,” she rasped, while a tiny voice in her head whispered wickedly for him to continue.
He pulled his hand back. “I’ll send the healer in the mornin’.”
“That willnae be necessary,” she insisted, downing half of the barley tea just to distract herself from the lingering feel of his palm on her stomach. “I daenae need yer help.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Apparently, ye didnae need yer faither’s help either. Or yer braither’s.” His fingers splayed across the blankets. “Ye had ample chance to escape, lass, but ye didnae.”
She stared at him, aghast. “I… I was afraid ye’d hurt me!”
“Or ye hoped I would save ye,” he countered. “After all, one of the first things I said was that I wouldnae harm ye.”
Bewilderment didn’t even begin to encompass the turmoil in her mind, half of her brain admitting to a morsel of truth, the other half in utter outrage at the suggestion.
There was no way she wantedto be kidnapped by this handsome stranger. That wasmadness.
“I daenae understand what ye mean,” she huffed, fixing him with what she hoped was a baleful glare. “The only person I need savin’ from is ye.”
