The Highlander's Bride(48)

She had even dreamed of a good husband, and had gotten him, but just wasn’t able to keep him.

The lump grew larger, and she quickly changed her thoughts. But Cullen somehow continued to invade her dreams, and soon she was envisioning a happy life with him and Alexander. The thoughts brought her such joy that she couldn’t chase them away. Besides, they refused to be ignored, so she gave them free rein and imagined sailing off to America with them.

Every now and again Cullen would tighten his hold on her and mumble incoherently. She assumed he dreamed of Alaina and his son. It had to have torn his heart apart, being unable to save her, and unable to be there to protect his son. All he loved had been ripped away from him, and now she thought of him fighting to get back the most precious of gifts lovers can share—their child.

No matter what it took, she would help him and his son to safety. It was the right thing to do.

And she?

She would have her dreams.





Chapter 18





Cullen’s sullen mood mirrored the gray skies, and try as he might, he couldn’t escape his brooding. He had barely spoken to Sara since rising a couple of hours ago, and once they took to the trail, he hadn’t said a word to her. She had tried to engage him in conversation, but he sat silent on his horse and she eventually gave up.

He blamed his surly mood on his dream. He often dreamed of Alaina, and actually looked forward to those dreams where she seemed so alive, so real to the touch. He had expected to dream of her last night after what Sara told him, but instead he had dreamed of Sara.

A rumble of thunder portrayed a measure of his grumbling anger. It seethed beneath the surface, ready to erupt, and yet he wasn’t certain who he was angry with.

No, he told himself. That was a lie. He was angry with himself for betraying Alaina by dreaming of making love to Sara.

He cringed at the betrayal and near swore beneath his breath at the fact that he had actually enjoyed loving Sara. She’d been so responsive, so giving, so honest in her desire for him.

Could he say the same?

That was what angered him the most—his desire for Sara. It felt stronger than he remembered it being for Alaina. How could that be? Had he simply gone too long without a woman?

He mumbled incoherently, berating himself for believing his dream held any validity. He was a man in need of a woman, plain and simple.

Cullen gave a quick glance to Sara, riding beside him. She was more of a beauty than he had first realized, but then, he hadn’t known her at all. Actually, he hadn’t wanted to know any woman. He was forced to get acquainted with Sara, and was grateful that he had.

He smiled slowly, her fiery red curls springing out of control from her head, never obeying a pat or a tuck but simply doing as pleased and looking completely natural on her. And fitting her pale skin perfectly, while a smatter of freckles stained the bridge of her nose.

Then there were her eyes, which had intrigued him from the start. At first he’d assumed the blue-green hue had gotten his attention, but it was so much more. Caught in the depths of her eyes was the essence of her character, so rich and vital that it refused to be disregarded or masked.

He looked away, afraid his eyes would steal down along her body and make him face what he had tried to ignore—that he found her appealing. Tall, shapely, with curves and mounds he ached to explore and plunder.

He shook his head.

He needed a woman, he told himself again. That was the problem. He needed to satisfy his lust and be done with it. It would settle everything, and then he’d want Sara no more. She was simply available and convenient.

He growled beneath his breath, the selfish thought disturbing him, and yet he was unable to rid himself of it.

“Are you all right?’ she asked bluntly. “You’ve been mumbling and groaning since we left camp hours ago. Talk to me. Tell me what troubles you.”

He near grinned, thinking of telling her how he’d like to yank her off her mare, take her to the ground, toss her skirts up and take her like a man too long deprived. A tumble between friends, no more.

But she looked for more, and he couldn’t give it to her.

He rubbed his stiff shoulder. “It’s nothing. I just woke in a dour mood.”

“You want me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” he snapped.

She shrugged. “Have it your way and stay miserable. It makes for such pleasant company.” She gave her horse a nudge with her heel and moved a few feet in front of him.

He cursed himself for being abrupt with her, but he was in no mood to discuss his mood. Besides, it wasn’t any of her business, and she had a way of getting people to reveal themselves through casual conversation. Before you knew it, you were confiding in her like a trusted friend, and he wasn’t about to share last night’s dream with her.