“I always thought ye would be the one, ye know?” she murmured.
He frowned down at her. “What is yer meaning?” Alana’s fingers sketched across his collar bone before rasping up across his bristled jaw and he gulped.
“I thought ye’d be the one to claim me.”
“Ye mean…” he trailed off, unable to find the words.
“I’ve never been with a man,” she said wistfully. “I always wanted it to be ye.”
All the blood in his body threatened to boil over with such words. It was as if the thunderstorm had struck him and his whole body was alive with lightening. Only in scant dreams had he allowed himself to imagine claiming Alana. Their friendship never had the chance to blossom into anything more than just that, but he’d always hoped that one day, when they were older, it would happen.
As had she apparently.
She rocked against him and the world went hazy as her soft flesh rubbed at him through her skirts. Ach, he was certainly being punished. Restraint was not his strong point. Alana’s breasts thrust up against him, small and delicate, practically begging for him to palm them.
“Cease, ye daft lass,” he forced out as she wrapped her hands around his neck.
“Ye dinnae mean that.”
He rolled his eyes as her lips pursed with disappointment. No doubt she would be furious if he took what she offered when she came to her senses. Where had that sweet lass he’d once known gone? Was it just the knock to her head that had turned her into a sultry seductress or had the years really changed her so?
“Ye wouldnae thank me if I took advantage. Now behave yerself. Ye’ll be lucky if ye dinnae catch a chill.”
“Ye are no fun anymore, Morgann MacRae.” She unclasped her hands from around him.
Relaxing his muscles, he slipped his thigh from between her legs. “Aye, yer probably right.” He eased her into the crook of his arm and tried to keep some distance between them. Shivers still wracked her so he couldn’t fling her away as he wished to. “Rest some, m'eudail. Ye’ve had too many adventures this morn.”
“Yer still planning on kidnapping me?” Her lashes fluttered as she fought a yawn and Morgann’s fingers twitched with the need to smooth his palm over her face and soothe her off to sleep.
Funny, because he hadn’t felt any such needs in a long time. For too long he had been on edge, striving to protect his father and his lands. War and rivalry dominated his life. That, and anger. Softer sentiments had no place in his life.
He didn’t respond. Already her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Morgann took a moment to study her profile. Even in rest her chin pointed out stubbornly as her lips parted. They looked soft and tempting. He’d certainly gone too long without a woman, that was it. Feeling lust for the daughter of his enemy, old friend or not, was not good.
Cool. Callous. That’s what he needed to be. The fates had landed Alana in his lap for a reason. With her in his clutches, her father, Laird Dougall, would be forced to admit the truth and reveal his plans from eight summers ago. And Morgann would finally have justice and hopefully peace. A tiny noise escaped Alana’s lips as she nuzzled into him, her golden curls soft against his neck.
Ach, callous? Holding Alana captive was going to be quite the test of his character.
Chapter Three
A thud echoed in Alana’s head as she attempted to pry open her eyes. Someone incessantly pushed at her, pressing her shoulder. Was it her maid? She never normally tried to wake her with so heavy a hand. If she’d only leave her be.
“Too tired,” she mumbled as something jostled her again.
“Alana?”
Something rumbled against her back. That definitely did not sound like her maid.
“Ye awake, lass?”
Dragging her eyes open, she winced as her head pounded and sunlight flickered over the horizon. She glanced down. A horse! She was on a horse.
Strong male arms surrounded her, holding her securely and a familiar spicy scent teased at her. Morgann MacRae. Of course. It all came back to her. She put a hand to her thumping head. Obviously her attempt at escape had failed and she must have hit her head when she slipped.
“Alana?” His voice mumbled over her hair.
“Aye?”
“Good, yer awake. Ye had me worried for a while.”
“Aye, I’m awake.” She tried to twist to look at him but straining her neck round hurt her head. “Just. And no thanks to ye.”
“I didnae force ye up the mountain,” he protested.
She peered around at the scenery through half-closed eyes. The day was growing late. The sun glinted over the hills and cast their tips in an amber glow, drawing out the yellow fauna in the Highlands. Her stomach sank.