To Steal a Highlander's Heart(35)

His head snapped round and that dark gaze fixed on her, narrowing as he studied her expression. Had he heard her wistful tone? Days when life was so much less complicated and a future for them seemed possible certainly held much appeal.

Grabbing the leather bag from his saddle, he tugged on the horse's reins, now tethered to an old wooden beam that once belonged to the stables.

Without another word, he pressed open the heavy door and it groaned in protest as rust fell from the hinges. Motioning for her to enter, he waited for her to climb the steps and flattened a palm to her back, ushering her in. Heat seeped through her gown as the musty smell of stale air greeted her.

The hall hadn't changed. Morgann threw open one of the shutters and proceeded to release the rest. Dust swirled in the air but wood waited in the fire for them and the table was set up in the middle, ready for guests. She strolled about, fingering the carvings of the large chair at the end of the table. The quiet emptiness made her chest feel hollow and then Morgann moved behind her and all at once, her heart felt too full.

"There should be some food supplies in the stores, though I'll have to put the fishing nets out later."

"Aye," she murmured, keeping her gaze on the chair.

Being unaccompanied in Morgann’s company was suddenly very intimidating. She felt vulnerable and unsure. It was easy enough to argue and fight against him at Glencolum but now they were alone he could do anything.

And what scared her most was what she wanted him to do to her.

“I’ll check if the bed is ready and light the candles.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Do ye need anything?”

“Nay.”

“Alana?”

She swallowed and faced him. “Aye?”

“I dinnae know what to do with ye,” he admitted. “I dinnae wish to keep ye locked away but ye must see ‘tis the only way.”

His admission softened her but she didn’t want him to see as much so she strode past into the back chamber. It took up the entire left wing of the keep, facing out onto the loch. Though the furnishings were old, the bed looked recently made, ready for their visit. Morgann must have sent on word of their imminent arrival. The blue and red patterned canopy matched the tapestry that covered the rear wall.

Alana sniffed the stale air and opened the shutters in the chamber. The day had turned grim, rain pattering into the mud, creating ripples in the surface of the loch and bringing a fresh scent into the air.

"Where will ye sleep? In the servant’s quarters?"

The servant's quarters were accessible only by a door in the side of the keep. Alana shuddered, grateful she wouldn't have to brave the miserable weather to get to her bed.

"Nay, I'll be sleeping here."

Alana set her jaw. "Nay, I'll no' have it. 'Tis bad enough that I shared a chamber with ye at Glencolum but I willnae allow it here, not while we're alone."

He folded his arms across his chest, legs apart, expression determined. "Ye have little choice, lass, unless yer wanting to sleep in the kitchens."

She huffed. "Ye've all but ruined me ye know? No man will ever want me now."

Morgann chuckled as he pressed a hand to the bed, testing the mattress. "Any man that refuses ye must surely be mad."

Warmth seeped up her neck. Had he just complimented her? Oh, aye, he'd kissed her and looked at her with such carnality but never spoken of his attraction to her. Sometimes it seemed so one-sided. Like now, as he strolled around the bed and eyed her. All she could think of was how he’d look sprawled on the bed, hair mussed, the sheets around his hips.

She spun away, a hand to her cheek. Where did these thoughts come from? It was bad enough she was plagued by heated dreams but to be considering such things during the light of day...? He had ruined her. Mayhap her reputation would survive but she doubted those thoughts would ever leave.

"Ye need not worry, Alana." He was behind her now. He must have stepped softly as she hadn't heard him approach. "No one will question yer behaviour, only mine."

Chewing her lip, she turned to face him. He stood a mere pace away and his presence sucked the air from her lungs. She would never tire of tracing the line of his shoulders in his linen shirt or studying taut skin just visible at the collar. She sighed. "Ye speak as if ye regret what ye've done."

He curled his fist into a ball but said nothing.

“Yer a good man, Morgann. Send me back and make things right.”

“I willnae.”

“Morgann—”

“Ye mistake me, Alana. I am no’ a good man. I’m a thief.”

“Nay—”

He took a step forward and she shrank back as he glowered down at her. “I took that ring.”