Authors: Kella McKinnon
“You aren’t
afraid of storms”, he said
brusquely
, more to break the strange tension than for the sake of conversation.
“No, I’m not
afraid of storms,
”
she said.
“
And
you
’re not
afraid of me, either
, are
you
?
” Most women were, at least a little.
Hell, most
men
were.
He was a
very
large man, and had the well-earned reputation of
being
a fierce
and
ruthless
warrior.
He knew he was physically imposing.
Had used it to his advantage more than once.
She smiled. “No, I don’t
think
you
bite, at least you haven’t yet.
”
He almost smiled back, but caught himself in time
, resuming his
forbidding demeanor
.
“You should be afraid, lass. I protect my own, always.” He narrowed his eyes.
“
Who are you really?”
he asked
in a
harsh tone
, even knowing she would not tell him.
And why do I want to kiss you so
damn
badly
right now
I think I may soon forget to breathe?
They were so close, huddled in the small space as the
storm
raged
up above them. The sound of rain hitting the roof of the tent drown out the harsh sound of his breath
ing
.
She
turned to her back, and her thigh pressed against his.
“I
won’t
tell
you
that.
I don’t
know
you
,
and
so I can’t
trust
you
.
Not yet.
”
Her words felt
wrong
, somehow.
She should trust him.
Why
did he think she should trust him?
At the moment, he didn’t even trust himself.
He felt confused, muddled, as if there were something he just couldn’t remember…
“Then
you
leave me no
other choice than to keep
you
until I find out who
you
are.”
His words were gruff
to cover his growing agitati
on, and he turned to stare at the ceiling again
.
She nodded
solemnly
. “I understand.”
At the moment she wasn’t sure she
wanted
to be anywhere else.
She was rather enjoying being cl
ose to Ceann, his body radiated a
warmth that soon took the chill away and made the tent cozy
.
She was drawn to him, dangerously so.
What little evening light there had been
beneath the thick clouds
was fading fast, and now there was only the pounding patter of rain punctuated by rolling thunder and the sudden bright flash of lightning.
Ella
lay back on the blanket spread on the ground, looking up at the canvas just over her head
as Ceann did
. She felt inexplicably
snug
and safe. She breathed in the scent of rain and lightning and warm skin, mingled with the dusky smell of
the
oiled
cloth
and the wool of the blanket
.
The electricity of the storm
so close now overhead
made the little hairs on her arms stand up, and she shivered.
To think a
week
ago she had been
home
in her own bed, dreaming of all the things life might bring her.
Now she was here in a tent in a storm, with a stranger. She
glanced
over
at him. S
he could
just
see his profile in the
pulsing
light. She inched closer so he would be able to hear her over the thunder and rain. She felt his whole body tense.
An incredibly powerful body that she was certain could crush her at will.
“Where are you taking me?”
she asked softly
, near his ear
.
He turned his head to look at her, and her heart began to flutter wildly. His lips were only inches from hers and she
suddenly
wanted nothing more than to lean closer and kiss him.
Her pulse raced.
She could feel his warm breath on her cheek. For a moment she had an almost overpowering urge to stretch her body out along the length of his…
to…
but of course she couldn’t. Not when she didn’t even know him, not when he thought she was a spy, sent perhaps to tempt his secrets away.
If she kissed him, he would have no doubt.
It was likely just the overwhelming power
and excitement
of this storm,
driving
her
to
such wild thoughts.
He answered her, still gruff. “We go to my home. Th
en I’ll see what to do about
you
.”
His eyes narrowed in warning. He turned
back to
stare at
the roof of the tent
again.
“I
will
have answers, one way or another.
”
After a moment he thought of something else. “Do you have any weapons lass?”
“Aye, just my dagger.”
“Give it to me” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust you not to try to stab me while I sleep. Hand it over or I’ll find it myself.”
She reached into the pocket of her gown and handed the dagger to him, raising one eyebrow in amusement. She was stuck in a tent with the most tempting man she had ever seen; stabbing him with a dagger was not the first thing that came to mind.
He took the dagger and tucked it into his belt. “You can have it back in the morning.”
Long minutes passed and they were both silent.
The storm
had passed
directly
overhead and now
was
slowly
beginning to fade; the flashes of light fewer, the thunder claps not so loud and sudden.
Beside him the
lass
stretched and sighed. Her thigh
still
pressed against his in the cramped quarters of the little tent.
His body throbbed;
he
still
ached to pull her into his arms.
Had to clench his hands into tight fists to keep himself from reaching for her, pulling her closer, tasting her…
Surly
she was sent by the very devil;
but he could not let himself be tempted by her.
No doubt she was a virgin and if he took her an angry father would show up demanding an alliance and half his cattle
and gold
or some such nonsense, and he would be honor-bound to wed her. And that was only one of the many scenarios he could imagine of why she had been left in his path.
No, he would find out who she was and send her back to wherever she came from. And whoever had sent her would pay as well, because the more he thought about it the more it seemed the only explanation.
Who would have known he had gone to check on his holdings at the southern border of
MacKenzie lands? Almost anyone. All the highland clans had informants to keep abreast of their rivals. It was part of their way of life, as much as stealing each other’s cattle and raiding at the borders. But w
ho would be so cunning?
To leave a woman in his
path, one so beautiful
and so sensual no man could resist her;
perhaps
to go to his bed and to learn his sec
rets under the guise of passion, or to trick him into an unfavorable alliance.
But he was not just an
y man, and he would not
be
fooled
. He was sworn to protect his people, even over his own wants and needs.
Especially
over his own wants and needs.
He heard her breath
eventually
slow to the ev
en rhythm of sleep. He relaxed a bit,
but rest eluded him for
most of the night
, as he lay awake pondering this strange situation he now found himself in
, and battling the
raging
primal instincts of his warrior’s body, to lay claim to the woman beside him. But he would never allow himself that pleasure
, even if it killed him to keep his hands from her
.
Ella
opened her eyes to the soft
glow
of
early
dawn streaming t
hrough the
now-
open end of the tent. S
he was alone, but she could hear the voices of the men outside as they broke camp.
Her mind recalled the evening before, lying next to a man she could not touch, dared not touch
. And he had been honorable and hadn’t touched her either, though no one could have stopped him had he wanted to. Did he not find her at all attractive?
God, Ella, are you actually complaining because the man didn’t force himself on you?
Well, he could have at least
looked
at her, while she was lying there wanting so much to touch him.
She crawled out of the tent and stood, brushing dirt and leaves from her
simple linen riding
gown.
What she wouldn’t give for a comb! Yesterday’s wind had nearly tied her hair in knots.
Damn Malcolm, he could have left her satchel!
The scent of rain-dampene
d earth was strong and a mist
still
hu
ng in t
he air, but the
sky had cleared to a light blue, glowing bright where the sun was rising behind the
heathered
hills to the east.
She
glanced around.
Ceann
w
as diligently tending
to
his horse
with his back to the tent,
and
very
obviously trying to ignore her presence.
T
he
other
men
were sitting on logs and eating a light meal. She gave them
a w
arm
smile, and they smi
led back, unabashedly looking her over
. She went over to speak with them, to at least learn their names.
They shared their breakfast of oatcake and dried venison with her, and spoke only a little, though they were not
exactly
unfriendly
toward her
. There was Gregor, who looked to be the eldest of them, with his dark brown hair and beard peppered with gray.
And the others were Angus, Ian, and James. Ian had a
fierce
scar across his cheek. Angus and James had thick beards which hid their faces. She
gently prodded the four men for information, but t
hey were carefully tight-lipped
, and she soon gave up
.
She went over to Ceann and held out her hand palm up. “You said I could have my dagger back in the morning.”
“So I did.” He slid the knife from his belt and handed it back to her.
It was warm from his body, and she closed her hand around it before placing it back in her pocket.
Before she could
turn and walk away,
he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her onto the back of his horse, swinging up to sit behind her. The other men had mounted too
,
and
she saw that the entire make-shift camp had already been packed away
with incredible efficiency
.