To Dream of a Highlander(5)

He had her face pressed into his neck as he pulled her gown from her. Soft skin under his fingertips forced his breath to stilt. Only the grunts of men rowing reminded him he was meant to be helping the lass and not enjoying the moment.

Katelyn’s chemise and gown came away in one go and he peered behind him, narrowing his eyes at the men. “Keep yer eyes away,” he warned, “or I’ll be having yer heads.”

A rumble of chuckles rippled from them but they kept their gazes ahead while he pried the garments from her shoulders. He laid her down, fumbling for his fur to cover her. Unfortunately he failed to keep his gaze from straying briefly to her curves, so pale and lush in the dimming light. Finn thrust the furs over her as his body tightened. Working beneath the pelt, he hauled her gown down her stomach and hips. It should have made it easier—he didn’t have to resist temptation to stare at her—but it made him all the more aware of her shapely hips and delicate thighs. Gaze lifted to the heavens, he gritted his teeth, tugged the gown the rest of the way off and slung it aside.

He eyed her for a moment, breath held in his chest as he studied the dark hair as black as night splayed across the wood. Milky skin contrasted with the brown of the pelt. A more tempting sight he had never seen. And there was something familiar about her. Something that tugged at his gut. He’d never met Lady Katelyn and yet her fragrance and slightly husky voice, and mayhap even her body played in his mind, as though she were an old lover.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Finn tucked the fur around her. It had simply been too long since he’d had a satisfying tumble. From the time when his dream lass had begun to plague him, no other woman had been able to match her. Mayhap that was what struck him as familiar about this lass. Though the woman in his dreams always appeared hazy, he knew she had hair like a raven.

Ach, he needed to turn his thoughts away from tumbling lassies and concentrate on the task at hand—ensuring they made it safely to his sister’s keep. He sank heavily onto a seat and dragged off his boots, grunting with dissatisfaction as he tipped the water out of them. He drew off his trews, grateful to be rid of the clinging wet fabric and motioned for Logan to hand him his plaid and the rest of his garments. He changed while they started away from the coast. His heart still beat rapidly, aware the enemy might be upon them soon. Or was it from the memory of her skin beneath his fingers? They still tingled.

A shuffle and a tiny moan drew his attention. She clutched the pelt around her and fought to sit. “Pray, dinnae harm me. I will do whatever ye wish.”

Finn stood sharply, prepared for her to fall into a swoon once more. He propped his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow. Ach, but the lass was more confused than he’d realised. He’d been abrupt with her to be sure, but surely she understood he was here to help. Finn peered at his precious cargo and noted the woman’s shuddering. Curses, where were his manners? The actions of the Viking—and himself—had no doubt terrified the woman. Fiery bloodlust that had pushed him to run her attacker through now simmered to a gentle burn and remorse struck him.

“I’ve no intention of harming ye.” Tension made the statement come out sharper than he’d planned but he’d not expected to have to disguise himself and rescue her mid-siege. When he’d agreed to rescue the lady from the Isle of Bute, he’d intended to reach her before the Norse invaders arrived.

Unfortunately inclement weather and strong winds had brought the attackers across the sea sooner than they’d anticipated. Still, once they made it to his sister’s castle all would be well. As long as they survived the journey to the mainland and to Kilcree, he could consider this a successful rescue.

The spatter of the sea tickled his face and he glanced at the steadily disappearing shoreline. The journey to the mainland was a short one but these seas were unpredictable and they were losing light. If they were unlucky, they could be dashed upon the rocks as they came to shore or tossed from their boat.

Gingerly, he stepped forward. She yelped and tucked herself up into as tiny a shape as possible. Finn shook his head to himself. The poor lass. He crouched beside her. The swelling on her face disguised her features but her long dark hair spilled around her shoulders, like raven’s wings. A pang of something struck him sharp in the gut. Mayhap it was anger at her treatment, mayhap it was something else. He refused to dwell on it.

Shuffling closer, Finn inched his fingers under hers and brought her hand to his lips. He smirked. Too late to be playing the gentleman but he would try. Her tiny gasp as he brushed his lips over her cold, slender fingers did something to his chest. It felt as if someone danced a merry jig over his heart. He wanted to hear the sound again. But when he moved nearer still, her eyes widened and she released a long breath as her body fell limp. He barely caught her as she swooned sideways. With a muttered curse, he laid her back down and tucked her in once more.