The Highlander Series(140)

As she looked down at his face, she was surprised by how clear his eyes were. No haze of confusion darkened the light green orbs.

Then he smiled up at her and to her utter shock, he reached up and pulled her down on top of him.

“You’re mad!” she hissed as she struggled to move to his uninjured side. “You’re going to tear your stitches and I spent the better part of two hours setting them!”

“So my angel is real,” he murmured, not letting her wiggle out of his grasp.

“Your assessment of a demon was more accurate,” she gritted out.

He chuckled and then winced.

“See? You should be lying still, not dragging me over your body,” she said in exasperation.

“But I like you on my body,” he purred. “I like it very much. In fact, I barely feel my injury now. All I feel is your softness against my flesh. Your breasts pressed into my chest.”

Heat crept over her shoulders and up her neck over her cheeks. She refused to meet his gaze and focused instead on his shoulder.

“Do you know what would make me feel even better?” he husked out.

She chanced a peek at him to see him studying her intently, his eyes glowing in the faint light that bled through the furs.

“What?” she asked nervously.

“A kiss.”

She shook her head even as she tried to wiggle off his chest again. He caught her against him and then reached with his free hand to cup her chin.

Ignoring her protests, he raised his head and fit his lips to hers. It wasn’t clear who had the fever. Him or her. Heat seared through her body. ’Twas a wondrous sensation. Heady. Sinfully sweet.

Her head spun and she felt incredibly light, like she’d taken flight and drifted among the clouds. She let out a sigh and melted into his strong body.

His fingers splayed out over her back and he rubbed up and down. When they reached her nape, he gripped her neck and delved his fingers into her hair, pulling her down to meet the intensity of his kiss.

“Alaric,” she whispered.

“I like the sound of my name on your lips, lass. Now tell me yours so I may know the name of my angel.”

She sighed in exasperation at how quickly he turned away her objections.

“My name is Keeley.”

“Keeley,” he murmured. “Such a beautiful name. Fitting for such a beautiful lass.”

“You must let me up,” she said firmly. “Your brothers will be up any moment now. They’re most concerned about your injury. I need to look at the stitches to make sure they’re holding, and if you feel strong enough, you should eat.”

“I’d rather kiss you.”

Foregoing her gentle reproach, she balled her fist and gave him a thump on the chest. To her surprise, he laughed but relinquished his hold on her.

She scrambled off his chest and smoothed her wrinkled clothing and disheveled hair. She probably looked like she’d been dunked in the loch and then dragged behind a horse.

Her gaze kept creeping to his broad, naked chest. Not that a man’s chest was a mystery to her. Nor was the rest of the male anatomy. She’d seen more than her fair share of naked males thanks to her skill at healing. But this man took her breath away. He was … magnificent.

Her eyes ate him, and she wasn’t being entirely discreet about it. She hoped that his fever and pain kept him from noticing her avid attention.

“I must look at your wound,” she said, damning the husky catch to her voice.

He glanced down and then slowly rolled onto his good side so that his injury was outward.

“I must thank you, Keeley. I don’t remember much about the day I was injured, only that I knew I would die if I didn’t seek aid immediately. When I opened my eyes and saw you, I knew that God had sent me an angel.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said lightly. “Angel I’m not. I’m merely an ordinary woman who is skilled in the healing arts. ’Tis nothing more than knowledge gleaned from other women who’ve come before me.”

“Nay,” he denied. He reached up and caught her hand when she moved closer, bringing her fingers to his lips.

Tingles shot up her arm and her chest tightened in pleasure. It was hard not to smile at the handsome warrior who wielded pretty words as surely as he did a broadsword.

She caught his wrist and gently pushed until his arm was over his head at an angle. Then she leaned in to survey his newly stitched wound. It pleased her to see the redness had abated and that it no longer looked quite so raw and angry.

“What’s the verdict? Will I live?” he asked in amusement.

“Aye, warrior. You’ll live a long, healthy life. You’re fit, which will aid you in a complete recovery.”