Читать книгу Her Enemy Highlander - Nicole Locke - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Mairead mostly prided herself on her impulsiveness, but right now she felt no pride. Right now she was in danger. Especially when she had no plan and there was a well-armed, vexed stranger following behind her and closing the door.

Her anger and fury had disappeared and her legs didn’t feel as if they would hold her much longer.

In the dark and quiet room, she could almost hear his mind making connections between her and the thief.

If it wasn’t for her family, she’d have run. They needed the money that dagger represented. Not that her mother and sisters knew about their predicament, but Ailbert had known. Ailbert had... Oh, she didn’t want to think about him. Not now. There was no time.

She had to choose: humiliate herself here, or in front of her entire clan. She’d prefer to do it here.

Straightening what was left of the top of her gown, she took a candle and walked to the fireplace. The fire was dim, but enough to light the wick.

‘Not now.’

‘I was just lighting it. It’s dark.’

‘We doona need light to sleep.’

But she did. She needed the light to see if his expression matched the biting tone of voice. Setting the unlit candle by the table, she turned towards him.

He had rested the sword by the bedside and was right behind her. Quickly, he took his tunic off. ‘Here.’ He gestured with the tunic.

As she tugged on the fabric of her hopelessly torn gown, she tried not to look at him. ‘What will you wear?’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He shoved the tunic into her hands and turned towards the door. ‘And I’ll not be doing any more thinking tonight.’

She clutched the tunic and tried to think of an excuse to stay. But instead of opening the door and demanding she leave, he retrieved his boot dagger still embedded in the thick wood.

Her fingers eased on the fabric, but she wasn’t completely safe. He turned around and gazed pointedly at the tunic still in her hands. Walking past her, he placed his boot blade on the windowsill.

She wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension. But he acted as though he felt none and he was still...naked. He might be comfortable, but his state of undress played havoc with her emotions.

Even thanking him seemed moot as he straightened the bed covers and lay down. Just above his head, he placed her dagger.

Not only was she mute, but she didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t only his tone of voice that was different. He was different. His speech was shortened. The warm lilting voice that made her limbs go heavy was gone. He wasn’t even looking at her any more.

So she just stood there.

‘My head’s aching and I’m tired. You can either put that tunic on or not, climb into the bed to sleep or not, makes nae difference to me.’

Feeling helpless, Mairead stared. The bed creaked as Caird adjusted himself. His back was to her now and he was partially covered with the thin blanket he pulled up around him.

It wasn’t daylight yet, but it would come and soon. There was still a chance to get the dagger, but only if she stayed. Pulling on the tunic, she climbed into bed. It wasn’t a large bed and she adjusted her position so as not to touch him.

He might be a heavy sleeper. If she hadn’t upended the stool and made a noise, she might have made an escape, but it wouldn’t do to think of her mistakes.

For now, she’d just have to wait until Caird fell asleep.

* * *

Mairead woke with the sudden awareness of the sun rising. The room was just growing light, but she did not need the daylight to see her impulsiveness had landed her in danger. Again.

She didn’t need to see at all. All she had to do was feel.

Her upper body was still contorted away from Caird, but her legs were wrapped neatly under his. Her feet were warm, which was probably why she’d slept. Her feet were never warm.

She kept still, waiting to see if Caird woke as well, but his breath remained steady and his body relaxed. He still slept.

The dagger still rested above his head.

To keep silent, she held back her sigh of relief. There was still a chance to get the dagger and walk away. Then she could grieve. She needed to grieve. Her nerves frayed more with every delay.

Carefully, almost painfully, she reached for the dagger.

‘Oomph!’

A fierce grip on her wrist, a twist of a large body and she was on her back, hand above her head, her fingers wrapped around the dagger.

‘Admiring its beauty?’

His tone was calm, but not idle.

And he was heavy. She couldn’t breathe to protest. She shoved her legs up.

‘You’re...’ She huffed.

He eased his weight, but not his hold on her wrist.

His loose hair fell forward. A long scar curved from his right shoulder into the splattering of dark hair on his chest.

And his eyes were a changeable shade of grey.

‘Answer me!’ He shook her wrist.

* * *

Caird hadn’t been thinking last night. The fact he could even remember last night was a miracle after the amount of ale he and Malcolm had drunk.

The woman lay absolutely motionless beneath him and she hadn’t said a word. But she didn’t need to.

Her dark-brown eyes were wide with fear and something else making them darker still. Her cheeks were flushed from sleep and her lips were full and impossibly pink. Beneath his hips and legs, he could feel her ample hips and buttocks cushioning him.

He had not dreamed of this woman beneath him, or the effect she had on him. She was not some fantasy conjured from the wedding celebrations.

She was like having Spring’s first ripe berry after a hard winter, and just as tempting.

‘What do you want with this dagger?’ he repeated.

‘I...was looking at it.’

It was more than that. There was the admiring gleam in her eyes, but also one of intent. ‘You were doing more than looking.’

‘Nae, it was just there. I picked it up. That’s all.’ She shook her head. Her abundant dark brown curls bounced like a tarnished halo around her head.

But she was no fallen angel. She was in his room last night. If he hadn’t been so drunk, so tired and so stupid, he wouldn’t be having this argument with her.

Instead, she would be fully and completely underneath him. Or he would have thrown her from his room and been done with all the temptation and trouble.

He might not have been thinking straight last night, but he was this morning. Now, he needed to solve the problem of why she was here. ‘Why were you in my room?’ he demanded.

She looked down, but her eyes widened and her eyes flew back to his. Her flush deepened, too. He was still naked, the thin blanket inadequate covering.

Perhaps he wasn’t thinking straight after all. He prised her fingers from the dagger and stood from the bed. Keeping his eyes on her, he set the dagger on the table by the fireplace and reached for his braies.

Mairead tried to keep her eyes trained on the man, not the dagger. What she had come for was now almost within her grasp and she felt a mixture of relief and tension. She knew all she had to do was either lie for or steal the dagger. Now was her time. Just a little longer and she’d be done with all of this.

She sat up. ‘I told you it was a mistake.’

Finishing tucking the braies, he said, ‘The room’s a mistake. Not the reason why you were here.’

This man was too intelligent to fool and too fast and strong for her to make a run for it with the dagger. A little bit of truth wouldn’t hurt.

She gave a sigh as if she couldn’t hold up the pretence any more. ‘The dagger belongs to my family.’

‘How convenient.’

Never taking his eyes from hers, he reached for the brown leather leggings.

‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me. It’s why I didn’t say anything before.’ She pushed the cover away from her legs and stood. ‘Why would you believe me? We’re strangers; the dagger has some value. But I ask, why would a lone woman enter an unknown inn at the dead of night if not to retrieve something of great value to her?’

‘To steal.’

Too true. Lowering her eyes, she rubbed her hands down the tunic to ease the creases there. ‘If I was such an expert thief, I could do it in broad daylight, within the comforts of safety. What I did was anything but safe.’

‘Maybe you’re not a good thief.’

‘Exactly!’ She looked up and gave him a wide smile.

His only response was to raise one brow.

She continued, ‘An inept thief, who doesn’t know any better or have the sense not to search rooms in the dead of night.’

The last line took a dent to her pride, but it worked. He was starting to believe her.

He pulled the leggings up over his braies until everything fit properly. Without a tunic, it didn’t hide the muscles and scars on his arms and broad shoulders.

‘How did the man steal it?’ he asked.

Flashes of memory. The sudden shock, the man running away, her brother collapsing to the ground. Ah, the grief.

‘I doona know.’ She held up her hand when she saw him begin to doubt.

‘The dagger isn’t mine, but my brother’s,’ she said. ‘I was there when it was stolen, but didn’t see what happened. My brother told me and said he would get it back.’

‘Where’s your brother?’

Crumpled on the ground. Her call for help. Her mother’s scream.

She wrinkled her nose, trying to stop the threatening tears. ‘He thought that man in the hallway, that thief, went west and decided to pursue him.’

‘And he sent you east.’

She shifted and tried to look guilty. ‘Nae. I came this way on my own. He described the thief to me. I thought I’d help.’

He huffed.

‘I wasn’t confronting the man on my own, just getting the dagger back. It’s the reason I searched the room at night.’

He straightened the upended stool, sat on it and proceeded to put on his boots. ‘The thief seemed to know you.’

Despite being drunk, he had too good a memory.

‘Did he?’ she said.

‘He said it wasn’t him.’

She acted like she couldn’t remember. But she did. Vividly. If only Malcolm had not hit the man, she’d know what the thief meant to say!

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t ken his meaning. He had my dagger.’

Caird bent and picked up his pouch. Without attaching it, he stared at her. She kept her eyes straight on him. He almost believed her, but something was bothering him. She’d have to make certain he had no doubts.

He nodded. ‘You were lucky.’

Only if he believed her.

He wrapped the belt with the pouch around his waist. ‘You could be dead.’

Ah, gratefulness and flattery. Those were easy emotions to fake. ‘I know. Strange as it may seem, I am glad I came to your room.’

Something besides doubt flitted in his grey eyes, making them almost green. Something like...heat.

He took a step towards her. She had risen from the bed and straightened her clothes, but she hadn’t gone any further. If she had, she’d have somewhere to move. As it was, she was stuck between Caird and the bed.

He was measuring her again, weighing something. His eyes moved from hers down her cheeks to her lips. Between her torn gown and his deeply cut tunic, her neck and most of her shoulders were bare. There, his eyes stilled and her bare skin felt even more exposed.

‘Me, too,’ he said as his eyes caught hers. His voice had lowered, softened. The beautiful lilt of last night wasn’t there. He wasn’t talking enough for that.

Which was probably good because just the tone of his voice was causing her to remember last night. Before the thief. The darkened room and their kiss.

She swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly parched mouth. ‘I woke you, caused you trouble.’

His mouth quirked and he took another step. ‘Nae trouble.’

What was wrong with her? She needed to get out of here. She needed to keep lying like she always did with the Buchanan men.

But this man didn’t affect her like Buchanan men, and she couldn’t think fast enough. ‘I...’ she started, then licked her lips.

His breath stopped, released.

For some reason, her breath did the same.

‘I should thank you,’ she said, her voice catching.

Slowly, so slowly, she felt the heat of him as he leaned towards her.

Oh, he was going to kiss her. Again.

And she didn’t want to stop it. Didn’t want the heat of him to go away or the heady scent of him to vanish. All she wanted—

Her stomach growled.

His mouth twitched and his eyes flashed with more green than grey.

If she thought herself incapable of moving before, she was wrong. Now, her very feet were nailed to the floor. How did eyes do that?

‘Trestles are being moved for breakfast.’ Turning rapidly, he looked around the room. ‘I’ll see about a gown and food.’

Her knees shaking, she sat abruptly on the bed. ‘I have nae coin to repay you,’ she said.

Shaking his head, he said, ‘A gift.’

‘Thank you,’ she answered. He was being generous despite the trouble she’d given him. She didn’t feel guilty for tricking him, but she wished she could repay him. He truly was different from any Buchanan man she had ever known.

He was too breathtaking, too honourable and now kind as well. A Buchanan man wouldn’t have believed her. They would have shoved her out of the room and kept the costly dagger. Instead, he was giving the dagger to her, feeding her, clothing her.

She tried not to think about the kiss he hadn’t given her. He was still walking around the room. ‘Where’s my small blade?’

She smiled. ‘The one you threw at me? You left it over there.’

Following her arm movement to the window, he reached for his dagger on the windowsill.

The bright morning light shone against his still loose hair, making the red hidden in his brown locks glow. Odd, how she hadn’t noticed he had red hair before.

Red.

‘You’re a Colquhoun!’ she gasped, too surprised to stay quiet.

He turned around. ‘Aye, I am, but that wouldn’t matter unless...’ His eyes narrowed, and took in her every feature.

Hell and damnation.

Mairead leapt for her jewelled dagger on the table by the fireplace. She didn’t know who was quicker, but Caird was bigger and already standing. He had the advantage.

He pushed her towards the bed, his body already blocking her.

Determined, she ducked underneath his outstretched arm, and her hand grasped the table. Just a little further—

He dropped his weight on her and the table. She was flattened and the table overturned.

The dagger skidded across the floor. Scrambling, she lunged, but Caird dived over her and grabbed the dagger with his fingers. Rising up, she clasped her hands together and rammed both elbows into his back. He lost the grip on the dagger, and it flew against the opposite wall. The dagger broke.

Out of the handle, a green stone slightly larger than a duck’s egg skidded towards them.