To Steal a Highlander's Heart(36)

She swallowed, mouth dry as she struggled to form a response. He took the ring? She shook her head slowly. “Nay…”

Morgann wrenched up his sleeve and thrust his scarred arm in her face. “Look at it, Alana. This is who I am. Look at it and remember. I am naught but a thief. I took that ring just as I took ye. And I’d do it again.”

Icy coldness filled her. All this time she’d been convinced her father had been wrong, that Morgann would never steal and now he was saying he had? How foolish she must have sounded. Dropping her gaze, she shoved away from him and strode into the hall.

Alana snatched the bag on the table and began unpacking the few supplies they’d brought. Bread, ale, dried fruit, a spare gown... She emptied them all out onto the surface and stared around the uninhabited hall. Swallowing the knot in her throat, she pretended to be absorbed in checking their provisions as Morgann stormed through the room.

“Going to put the fishing nets out,” he muttered as he swished past her.

As she took her gown into the bedroom and tucked it into a chest filled with extra bedding, she sighed. He’d lied. And thieved. But why? He had no need of riches and Morgann was never a dishonest man. Aye, she was probably too trusting, too willing to see the good in people when she was younger but she was never a fool and she knew Morgann, knew how much pride and honour meant to him. To be branded as a thief would have been the ultimate humiliation so why had he risked it?

She slammed the lid of the chest down. Ach, damn the man! There was so much more to this than he was telling her. If only he would allow himself to open up to her once more. She so longed for those days when they shared everything. Life was simpler then.

Her heart skipped as she glanced over at the bed, its sheets and blankets perfectly made. If only their relationship were simpler too. It would be easier to deal with him if this burning attraction didn’t plague her. She probably wouldn’t even care what secrets he held from her if she cared little for him. Unfortunately her attraction to him wasn’t simple. It seared at her, it tormented her. That little voice of doubt suggested that her childhood friend lay just beneath that beautifully raw exterior and if she let herself, both sides of him could lay claim to her heart for good.

Lip tucked between her teeth, she stared briefly out at the loch, catching sight of Morgann wading out into the water with two small fishing nets, before studying the bed.

And now she’d have to share a bed with him. She shook her head and released a mocking laugh. With the incessant heated dreams she was having, how would she control herself once she lay next to the real thing?





Chapter Eight


Arms folded, Tèile took up her position on the windowsill and studied the sleeping couple. This was becoming unbearable. She’d not called for help from the Pillywiggins only for them to end up arguing again. And now she was going to be in grave trouble for asking for aid when Alana was poisoned. But what else could she do? Let the lass die?

Thankfully the Pillywiggins were happy to have a green faery in their debt. She humphed aloud. The little flower faeries had great control over life and death and thankfully they liked Alana who always enjoyed nature. But who knew what they would ask of her in return for saving her life. Still at least they were on their own now. No more evil witches or attractive cousins getting in their way. Surely now was the time they would finally realise how strong the pull was between them. With each day, their souls grew closer. Each one slowly opened to the other. But there was not much time. She couldn’t keep Morgann’s messengers in limbo forever and the sleeping spell cast over the Campbells would wear off soon. Already there was too much magic floating around.

She flicked a weary hand toward the two of them. Another dream. Mayhap that would do the trick.

***

Soft, supple flesh gave way as he slipped a hand over her chemise. Alana whimpered in his ear as he teased a nipple, her delicate breast filling his hand perfectly. Hunger shot through him. So perfect, so special. He shifted closer on his side until her thigh pressed into him and switched his attention to her other breast. Morgann's hand shook as he fought to control himself, a savage need rolling through him.

Then he slipped his hands down, tracing the contours of her ribs and stomach through the linen. He inhaled as he met the flesh of her hips, her shift having slipped up to expose her to him. Pressing his hand beneath her, he cupped her bottom, the give of her tender flesh making him groan. She wriggled in invitation and he skimmed his fingers toward the apex of her thighs.

He paused as wet heat greeted him and he blinked.

Damnation, it wasn't a dream. He shot upward. Alana writhed against his hand. Her features were just visible and she clearly slept on, even as his fingers rested over her folds.