To Steal a Highlander's Heart (9 page)

Water
trickled over her as he tipped the jug and Alana gasped. The water was cool and
it made her shudder. It reminded him of the last time he’d seen her wet and cold,
when she'd been tucked against him in the middle of the mountains. Hot,
scalding lust assailed him. With a smirk he debated throwing the chilly
contents of the jug over his head instead, though he doubted it would have much
effect.

Angry
with himself for letting lust get the better of him yet again, he thrust his
fingers into her hair, massaging the water roughly through her tresses and she
yelped.

"Morgann,
gentle!"

He
shook his head. Was he really doing this? He allowed his touch to soften,
scrubbing as he imagined a woman would. Ach, if anyone caught him doing this...

The
texture of silky hair under his fingers soon erased his discomfort. Alana's
hands clutched the edge of the table, knuckles white. Did she enjoy his hands
upon her? Oh, he'd rather have them elsewhere, but he had to admit, there was something
soothing about doing such a menial task for a woman. Nay, for
Alana
. To know
he was looking after her provided an odd sort of comfort. Morgann sighed. If
anyone deserved looking after, it was Alana. A shame it would never be him, not
after the truth was revealed. Her father would never let him near her again.

"T-there's
some tonic, I think. A-a maid brought it up yesterday."

Her
voice sounded thick and strained, echoing the tension in his throat. Throwing a
glance around, he spied the bottle on the bedside table and took both hands
from her hair to reach for it. Alana remained bent over the bowl, bottom thrust
out, the curve of it clear against her skirts. He took just a moment to enjoy
the sight, even as he cursed his lack of willpower before pulling the stopper
from the bottle and giving it a sniff. It smelled of flowers, soft and feminine
like Alana and another, undesirable scent lingered beneath it. He shrugged and
tipped some of the oil-like substance into his hand.

"How
much—?"

"Just
a little."

Ach.
He eyed the pool of tonic in his palm and tried to tip some back into the
bottle. When he thought he had enough, he pressed his fingers to either side of
her head and raised it away from the bowl, allowing him to smooth the oil into
her hair. Alana sighed as he worked at her scalp. What he would not give to do
the same to the rest of her.

Alana.
Naked. Covered in oil. Sighing as he trailed his fingers over her slippery
skin.

Hell
fire.

One
restorative breath later, he'd finished and almost had control of his senses. Offering
the towel, he forced himself to turn away as she used it to dab at her wet
hair. The chambers were too small, the air too stifling. He had to get out. A
glance over his shoulder held him in place as she eyed him.

Water
dripped down her face and lips, her hair a tangled mess over one shoulder as
she continued to rub the towel over it. The years disappeared and he remembered
the girl who had once been his best friend. And yet that girl wasn't nearly as
enticing as the one stood before him. Both of them combined were a potent
mixture.

"Thank
ye," she said with a gentle smile.

Mayhap
just one moment wouldn't hurt. Just enough to remove her from his thoughts. A
strange weakening sensation invaded his muscles and he turned to take the towel
from her unresisting hands. Throwing it over her shoulders, he used it to draw
her toward him

"What
are ye doing, Morgann?" she asked breathily, cheeks darkening.

A
heavy pulse resounded through his head as he patted at her hair. "Taking
care of ye."

Lips
parting, she dropped her gaze from him, golden lashes fanning against her skin.
"Ye dinnae need to do that."

"I
like taking care of ye." Inwardly he groaned. Where had that come from?

"Ye
take care of many people." That green gaze latched back onto his, making
his chest tight. "I see that, ye know? I remember the pride ye took in yer
clan, in being the future laird."

"Aye,
well..." Hell, she read him far too easily. It should have terrified him
but it didn't.

“I
like ye taking care of me.” The colour in her face spread and her pulse
fluttered beneath his thumb.

He
groaned as he moved closer still. “Ye create a weakness in me, Alana. It makes
me wish—nay l
ong
—for things to be different. A highlander should never
be weak.” His voice came out raw and ragged.

She
moved up onto her tiptoes, closing the gap between them. Her lips were
temptingly close and he watched them carefully as she spoke. “There’s no
weakness in knowing what ye want.”

“I
dinnae think ye know what ye want. Unless ye are hoping to seduce me into
letting ye go again.”

Alana
pressed her lips together, supressing a grin. “Ye’ve already said I cannae
seduce ye. Did ye lie?”

“Mayhap.”

Warm
breath skimmed his lips. Was she seducing him or was he the one playing the
game of seduction? She lured him in yet made no further moves. The final
decision was his.

He
surrendered. What other choice did he have? With a growl, he claimed her mouth,
the heat of her lips making his stomach flip, his skin prickle. Grip strong on
the towel, he kept her pinned to him, almost afraid she would make an escape.

And
while he anticipated his reaction to her, he didn’t expect her fiery response.
Moist, gentle warmth greeted him as she opened her mouth and flicked her tongue
over his bottom lip. His entire being tensed. She widened her mouth with a
small whimper, allowing him better access as her hands trailed up his arms and
around his neck.

Damp
hair snagged briefly in his stubble as Morgann tilted his head to get to the
sweet taste of Alana. Better than the finest wine, her flavour was subtle and
wholly addictive. In the back of his mind, he feared he may harm her tender
skin with his rough bristle but nothing would prevent him from making the most
of this kiss.

The
floral scent of her hair seemed to increase with the heat of their kiss. Little
murmurs and soft, sensual sounds came from Alana as he twined his tongue with
hers, greedily taking all she could give. His grip around the towel remained
firm, not quite trusting himself to let his hands explore her figure. Somewhere,
deep down, he remembered he only intended to kiss her.

Even
though his body screamed for more.

Nails
dug into his neck as she squirmed against him, breasts prodding into his chest.
He tasted her once more, a deep lingering kiss before drawing back. It near
killed him but somehow he managed to place a second, more chaste kiss on the
corner of her lips and relinquish his grip on the towel.

She
sighed—in disappointment?—as he broke the connection. He was still close enough
to see the bloom in her cheeks dissipate, to view the glossy succulence of her
mouth. How wrong he’d been. One kiss would never be enough.

Rubbing
the back of his neck, he retreated a pace. A simple movement, but it made his
chest ache and his body cool rapidly. Alana offered a little half-smile of
understanding. The woman really did know how to read him.

“Will
ye be locking me up again?” she asked suddenly.

Well
if she’d intended to soften him toward her, she’d succeeded. “Nay, if ye swear
ye’ll no’ put yerself in harm’s way again, ye can have free roam of the keep.”

“I
thank ye, Morgann. I’ll no’ get into trouble, I swear it.”

He
was going to regret this. He tightened his grip on the back of his neck before releasing
it. “I’ve duties to see to. Will ye manage yer gown on yer own?”

“Aye,
of course.”

“Good.
Fine. Well… good day to ye, Alana.” Morgann dropped his head into a formal bow
and twisted away before he changed his mind.

He
smacked a palm against the cool stone after he pulled the door shut behind him,
the sharp sting doing little to discharge his frustration.
One kiss.
What
a fool. He only hoped Laird Dougall would be on his doorstep soon. How much
longer he could resist Alana was anyone’s guess.

***

Alana
dropped heavily onto the bed. How she had even remained standing when Morgann
had broken off the kiss she didn’t know but somehow she’d managed it.
Fingertips to her lips, she stared, unseeing, out of the window.

Sweet
Mary, what a kiss. Her
first
kiss. Were all kisses like that? She’d been
toying with fire when she’d begged him to wash her hair. Something about having
a rough highlander playing maid had amused her and he deserved some hardship
after everything he had done, but she hadn’t realised quite where it would go.
If she said it was all part of a game, a way of bargaining for more freedom, would
that lessen the memory of the kiss?

But
it was no game. Not for either of them. Her naïve idea of seduction never ran
as deep as that kiss had. Morgann’s mouth on hers, his tongue exploring every
part of her, now etched into her mind. And in her heart…?

Indeed,
Morgann MacRae had probably captured a little bit of that too.

She
ran her fingers through her damp hair, sighed and got to her feet. The cold
touch of water against her skin as she cleaned the remnants of her adventures
from her arms and face did little to dampen the heat lingering in her body. Yet
again, she wished things were different. If only her father had never accused
Morgann of theft. If only she'd been braver and gone to his defence. Emotions
battled within. Morgann capturing her could only lead to more heartache and
strife but if he hadn't, she never would have discovered that the friendship
between them had blossomed into attraction. An attraction so strong she barely
comprehend it.

But
attraction was not enough. The lad she'd known had to lie somewhere beneath
that rough exterior. He revealed glimpses but mayhap he was buried too deep.
With her father—and clan—in danger, giving into a desire that held little
promise was pointless.

Alana
dressed quickly, the chill of the wind through the open window against her damp
hair making her shiver. She might as well make the most of the little freedom
she'd been granted. Mayhap she would find a way out. Aye, she'd promised she’d
not get into trouble but she never made any promises about not escaping.

Briskly
tying her hair into a braid, she tossed it over her shoulder and straightened
her red plaid. Hopefully Morgann was too busy with his duties and she'd not
have to face him quite yet but she was hungry. She slipped on a pair of leather
slippers that had been left for her. They were slightly too large but would do
her well enough.

Concluding
she was a ready as she'd ever be, she pressed open the door and peered around.
No guard awaited her, no one demanded to know what she was doing, so she
slipped out and made her way down to the hall.

The
morning meal was long over, the tables cleared away and Alana patted her empty
stomach with sympathy as it growled. Most of the men were likely seeing to
their duties and only a few servants lingered in the hall, sweeping the rushes
and wiping down the long tables.

Margot
lounged in one corner, spread across a bench, some embroidery hanging limply
from one hand as she rested an arm across her eyes. Alana frowned. Did she not
have anything that needed seeing to? Having effectively taken on her mother’s role
since the age of thirteen, Alana knew how much work running a keep took. And
with her husband sick, Margot should have been at his side.

Alana
took a tentative step forward and Margot lifted her arm, eyeing her from under
it. “So yer no longer a prisoner?”

“I
am no longer confined to my chambers, at least.”

“Morgann’s
chambers, ye mean.” Margot moved sinuously to her feet and strolled over to the
main table. Pouring some wine, she eyed Alana over the brim as she took a sip.
“He didnae harm ye did he?”

Unease
settled in Alana’s chest. She doubted Margot cared for her welfare so what game
was the woman playing? “Nay, of course not.”

Chin
up, Alana stepped over to the table and helped herself to an empty goblet,
copying Margot’s movements and taking a large gulp of wine.

Margot
smirked. “Ye are lucky then. Morgann is not the man he used to be, Alana. Ye’d
do well to avoid angering him. I dinnae know what he was thinking bringing ye
here.”

“Morgann
wouldnae harm me, he swore it.”

“Ye
have not noticed a change in him?”

Alana
shifted her feet, glancing down briefly. Of course she’d noticed a change in
him. He carried around a great weight on those vast shoulders. Whether it was
his father’s illness or the constant fighting that caused the deep furrows in
his brow and the jaded look in his eyes, she didn't know, but she didn't like
what Margot implied. Morgann was no liar and the man who had been her friend was
still there, just hidden.

"Aye,
he is changed. Indeed he has grown much since I saw him last." Alana grinned.
"In fact I think he may be a whole head taller."