To Steal a Highlander's Heart (12 page)

And
now Morgann was taking her away. Finn would negotiate with her father and send
him onto them, as long as he brought no army. This much she'd at least managed
to get Morgann to reveal. But the thought of the two men confronting one
another made her stomach churn. She wanted neither of them harmed. For all his
flaws, Morgann didn't deserve death and neither did her father. Though he was
admittedly just as flawed, if not more. But the years mellowed his warring,
greed-driven ways and he was still her father. Blood counted for everything.
Her mother had always reminded her of that. Family was the only thing you could
rely on in the Highlands.

Sore
muscles and stiff thighs soured her mood further as they travelled on. Morgann
remained taciturn, barely responding to her gibes. She longed to have some kind
of response from him. A shout, an angry grunt, anything! Even a kiss, mayhap.
The memory of his scalding kisses made her lips tingle. If only the man would
open up to her.

She
snorted. He had opened up to her. The memory was still muddled but he'd begged her
not to leave him. What had she done to force him to close up again? It twisted
at her heart. That man, the one that had sat at her bedside, believing she was
dying, was the one she wanted. While her desire wanted the brooding warrior and
her mind wanted the friend, her heart longed for the one that so briefly
revealed himself to her. That man, she concluded, held her heart. As she lay in
bed, listening to his words, she knew she had fallen for him. She loved that
man. But if he never came back, then she was loving nothing more than a vague
memory.

A
strong hand brushed at her cheek, drawing her attention. "The keep is over
that hill."

"I
remember."

Aye,
she remembered the times they used to play there. The Old Castle had been a
place to play and, for the men, to train. Their fathers spent much time
training their men there, the keep having been abandoned several years past. It
was still looked after by the steward of the nearest village for the MacRaes but
Alana hadn't returned since the fighting began.

The
Old Castle's crenellations peeked over the hill, jagged against the smooth
grass of the mountain behind it. Really it was an old manor house. The previous
owners built upon it, turning a simple home into one of pretension. The keep had
two wings, one jutting forward and one to the side, facing out over the loch.
The surrounding walls had long since crumbled and greenery crawled up the side,
slowly covering the shutters but the building itself remained strong and
sturdy.

Morgann
navigated the stone rubble surrounding it easily and brought them up beside the
keep. Alana stared up at the building, happy memories mingling with
apprehension. She glanced around at the barren scenery. They were truly alone.

And
now she was well and truly ruined, she thought with an inward laugh. For what
woman would spend time with Morgann MacRae alone and not give herself up to
him?

Not
that she intended to. Nay, the only man she'd even consider giving herself to
was hidden under layers of anger and control.

She
twisted around only to find Morgann directly behind her, less than a pace away.
As if reading her thoughts, Morgann’s intense expression made her throat
constrict.

His
gaze never left her face as she stumbled back and peered around him at the loch
that glimmered in front of the keep. She studied it with more interest than necessary,
unwilling to glance at Morgann. She felt his gaze still on her and her pulse
fluttered. Stealing a sideways peek at him, a shudder caused her to wrap both
arms about her waist. Windswept dark hair, the permanent stubble and that long
nose stood out in profile as he too looked over at the loch. Sweet Mary but he
was handsome. So rough and wild. She longed to skim her hands over that that
bristled jaw, place a finger to his lips and bury her head into his neck to inhale
the masculine scent of him. She burned to tame the Highland warrior. If only he
would reveal himself to her once more.

"We
used to swim in the loch," he said quietly.

"I
remember," she replied again.

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.”

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?

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.

"Dinnae
stop," she breathed. "Pray dinnae stop."

God's
blood, how could he resist? She needed pleasure as much as he needed to give
it. He pressed experimentally, blood rushing through his skull as she bucked
into his fingers. Morgann moved the pad of one finger carefully, praying for
her to sleep on yet yearning for her to awaken. Around and around he circled
with the lightest of touches. Sweat tingled on his brow, his body tight as he
watched her respond to each movement. Such passion, such beauty. He should have
known she’d be like this.

He
pushed harder as she writhed. Did she dream of him as he brought her pleasure?
Did she imagine him touching her inside and out? Or did she dream of someone
else? The thought made his gut clench and made him more determined to help her
reach the peak.

Alana
curled her hands around the sheets, breasts thrusting upwards. Powerless to stop
himself, he leaned over, put his mouth around one firm nipple and sucked at it
through the fabric. She pulsed under his fingers and breathed his name, her
legs juddering as a sharp release took hold of her.

He
grinned. She
had
been dreaming of him. As she sagged back down, Morgann
drew away tentatively, hopeful she’d awaken and reward him with a look of
satisfaction. A hand lay by her side, slightly open and he tucked his fingers
in them briefly as her breathing steadied and she fell into a deeper sleep.

With
a sigh, he rolled over and slipped a hand under the pillow. How was he meant to
resist the lass now? The scent of her lingered in the air, the sound of her
breaths teased him. There was a gap between them yet the heat from her skin
traversed it. He only hoped Margot was found soon. This waiting was killing
him. He longed to be out there, hunting her down, but who could he trust to
protect Alana? No one. But he wasn’t so sure he could trust himself now. He
just had to control himself for a short while. When this was all over…

He
sighed again. When this was all over would he claim her as his or let her go?
She’d fought him every step of the way, would she even wish to stay by his
side? She’d barely uttered two words to him that eve, not even enough to
protest sharing a bed with him. If he’d been inclined to play the chivalrous
man, he’d have brought up a pallet from the kitchens and slept on the floor but
the castle was cold and he was unable to resist lying next to her. After all,
if she didn’t forgive him for his treachery, he might never see her again once
he returned her to her father.

Morgann
battled these thoughts all night, images of Alana naked and sensual in his arms
mingling with thoughts of losing her. He woke with a thick head and gritty
eyes. Alana, however, awoke with a smile on her face and he fought to keep the
knowing grin from his face, in spite of his bad mood.

She
quickly covered her smile, affecting a cool look and greeting him with an even
cooler, “Good morrow.”

Still
cross with him then.

“Good
morrow, lass. Did ye sleep well?” He rolled out of bed and stretched. Her gaze
darted up to his chest briefly, cheeks filling with colour as she tugged the
sheets around her.

“Aye,
well enough,” she replied quietly.

By
some miracle, he kept his smug response to himself and dressed quickly. “I’ve
to check the nets. Can ye wait to break yer fast until then?” he asked as he
sat to tie his boots.

“Aye,
I’ll slice some bread while ye do that.”

He
paused as he glanced up at her. Golden hair tangled around her shoulders,
having escaped her braid during the night. She kept the sheets tucked under her
chin and her cheeks were rosy. She was so damned exquisite, it near stole his
breath.

As
he left the bedroom, the peculiar domestic routine they’d found themselves in
struck him. And what was stranger, was, in spite of the fact she probably hated
him for his lies, he enjoyed it. For the first time in a long time, he only had
to worry about himself and Alana.

Stepping
out of the hall, he paused at the top of the stairs and drew in a breath. The
day was fresh but not too cold. As he gazed out over the loch, the water so
still the mountains reflected almost perfectly in it, he realised now was the
time. He needed to tell Alana the truth. She was stronger than he ever imagined
and in his bid to protect her from the truth, he’d only pushed her away. But no
more. He wanted to close the distance between them for once and for all. If she
couldn’t forgive him or didn’t believe him, then so be it, but at least he’d
know.

With
easy strides, he came to the water’s edge and dipped to scoop some up, the
freezing water clearing away his fatigue as he scrubbed his face and hair.
Morgann ran his fingers through his hair and removed his boots before wading up
to the nets. He lifted them. Not bad. They wouldn’t starve at least.

He
went to pull the net to the bank and halted as a splash of cold water hit his
back, trickling through his shirt. He turned to see Alana, skirts in hand,
ankle deep in the water, an impish smile on her face.

One
brow raised, he eyed her and dropped the net. “What are ye playing at, lass?”

“Naught.”
She lifted her chin and swished her gown playfully.

He
frowned. “Yer not angry with me anymore?”

“I
was never angry, Morgann. Just annoyed. Ye made a fool of me, ye know? I protested
yer innocence for so long.”

“So
‘tis not the fact that I’m a thief that bothers ye, just yer hurt pride?”

Alana
tilted her head. “Ye may think of me as a daft lass, laird, but I am no fool.
Whatever ye did, ye had good reason to. Yer no’ a heartless thief, any more
than I’m a naïve lass.”

Taking
a moment to study her, he shook his head. When was it she became so wise? And
how did she see through him so easily?

“Will
ye not tell me, Morgann? Tell me why ye took the ring, why ye took me.”

He
grimaced. As much as he’d been prepared to tell all, he didn’t relish sharing
her father’s sordid deeds with her. “Aye, but get out of the water first. I’ll
no’ have ye catching a chill.”

With
a roll of her eyes, she stepped out onto the shingled bank and he followed her,
fighting the urge to scoop her up and protect her bare feet from the stones. She
folded her arms across her chest and glared at him as he rolled down his
sleeves. “Well?”

Her
gaze connected with his, green eyes imploring him for the truth. Lord knows he
wanted to unburden himself. And Alana was so much stronger than he ever
realised.

“That
ring…” He coughed. “That ring was my mothers. A ring of promise given to her by
my father.”

She
blinked. “So why did my father have it?”

“My
stepmother gave it to yer father as a promise too. A promise that she would
become his bride as soon as my father was dead.”

Alana’s
mouth parted but she remained silent.

“She
intended for my father to die very soon after she made that promise. I found
out about her plans by accident one night and I think I prevented her from
killing him as she’d hoped. By poison.”

“So
that’s why ye think I was…”

“Aye.
Poison seems to be Margot’s weapon of choice.” He fisted his hands by his side,
jaw tight as he considered how close he’d been to losing Alana. “I heard Margot
speaking with her lady-in-waiting one night. Once my father was dead, she
planned to rise up with yer father and take the MacRae lands. With my father
dead and her holding the land she’d inherit as his wife, ‘twould have been an
easy victory. I wasnae fit for leading a war at that age to be sure.”

“Sweet
Mary,” she whispered. “But the ring… why take it?”

“My
father wanted proof. Margot insisted the ring had been stolen. She even had a
servant girl punished for it. I thought if I could bring it back, he would see
she was lying and she’d be forced to confess all. I’ll admit my plans were no’
the best but I did what I thought I had to.”

“Oh,
Morgann, ye should have said something. I could have got that ring for ye
easily.

He
gave her a tilted grin. “I didnae want ye knowing what yer father was up to. I thought
ye’d be heartbroken.” He studied her as she took it in, shoulders straight,
chin raised. As strong as ever. “I was wrong, was I not?”

She
let slip a small smile. “I dinnae know. I’m no’ daft, I was always aware of my
father’s ways. He always wanted more. More land, more power. It never occurred
to me he might have his eye on yer lands though. But he isnae the same now,
Morgann. Even if Margot succeeded in her plans, he’s too old to be fighting
wars.”

“She
still wants my father dead. And ye. Yer the key here, Alana. With ye, I intended
to force yer father to admit the truth and to ensure Margot’s true nature was
revealed.”

Alana
pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Ye know, if ye’d just asked…”

He
let out a snort. “Aye… would ye believe that I thought I was protecting ye?”

Head
tilted, she scrutinised him and his pulse thumped under her penetrating gaze.
She didn’t seem angry. Or disappointed. Or anything he’d expected. Ach, he could
hardly believe he’d spent all this time fearing telling her and here she was,
taking the news with such calm control. He’d underestimated the lass severely.

But
no longer. Nay, he knew what Alana was made of and, by God, did it serve to
increase his desire for her. For a woman like Alana would surely be able to
match any man, especially a Highlander. He loved her, he realised. Mayhap he
always had.

“Morgann
MacRae,” she declared suddenly. “Yer as stubborn a man as I’ve ever met. But,
aye, I believe ye thought it best. But now we have the truth, I can help ye.
Return me home and I’ll speak with my da. I’ll persuade him to tell all to yer
father.”

He
took in her stubborn chin, the determined glint in her eyes. “Aye. Aye, I believe
ye will.”

Hell
fire, the lass could persuade a whole army to give up their fight and return
home, he suspected. Who in their right mind could resist a creamy skinned,
flaxen-haired goddess with more fortitude than a dozen men?

“So
ye’ll return me home?”

“Soon
enough,” he replied cryptically. He wasn’t sure he could bear to part with her
too soon and Margot was still on the loose. How could he protect her if she
returned home?

“Ach,
what am I to do with ye, MacRae?”

He
grinned and let his gaze rove lazily over her. “I could think of a few things
,
Campbell
.”

Cheeks
brightening as she gave a startled gasp, she jumped forward and shoved him
back. Taken by surprise, he stumbled back, landing hard on the bank, half
submerged in the water.

“Mayhap
that will cool ye off,” she declared.

Morgann
swiped the water from his face and tried to affect a glower but he must have
failed as Alana didn’t look at all intimidated. Nay, she looked vibrant and
happy and disturbingly like everything he’d ever wanted. He rose up onto his
elbows as she eyed him, daring him to retaliate. He leaped up and gave chase,
determined she’d get a good soaking too. Her laughter rang out as she sprinted
away, lifting his heart.