Highland Warrior. Hannah Howell

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СКАЧАТЬ almost smiled over the name he gave her, then grimaced. Fiona-of-the-eleven-knives would be better, for that would mean that she still had one hidden away and could cut herself free. There were worse things he could have done to make sure she gave him no trouble during the night, but this would make sleep difficult.

      So would this enforced closeness, she realized as she suddenly became aware of a few disconcerting facts. She was far too aware of the big, strong body so close to hers. He was enticingly warm and smelled nice, clean and with his own personal scent that she found dangerously attractive. Fiona abruptly recalled their wrestling together as he had relieved her of her weapons. A blush singed her cheeks as she realized she wanted to feel those big hands on her again; only this time they would linger and caress. It was madness, but she instinctively knew it would be very difficult to cure herself of it.

      Closing her eyes, she tried to revive the fear of strangers, of men, that Menzies’s perverted pursuit had bred in her, but it would not come. For reasons of its own, her heart would not allow her to fear this big, dark man. Feelings she had never experienced before, for any man, were stirring to life within her. A part of her wanted to let those feelings grow and soar. A saner part of her wanted to bury them. Not only was this a very bad time to discover she could be attracted to a man, could even feel passion for one, but it could prove to be a very unwise choice. After silently cursing long and hard, Fiona fought to clear her mind of all troubling thoughts. Perhaps after some sleep, she could find the strength to stand back and see everything more clearly.

      Ewan chanced a look at the woman he was leashed to. His gaze lingered when he realized she was asleep. The softness sleep brought to her face and the moonlight made her only more beautiful. He silently cursed as he was forced to admit that he could look at that small heart-shaped face for a very long time and never tire of doing so. Ewan knew that a lot of men would find her flawed because of the scars upon her face, but in his eyes, they did nothing to lessen her beauty.

      He clenched his hands into tight fists as he fought the urge to touch Fiona. The memory of the silken warmth of her skin beneath his hands as he had searched her for weapons was a hard one to banish. Nay, it was impossible, he admitted. He ached to feel that warmth again, to linger over it, from the soles of her small feet to her smooth brow.

      Simply thinking of touching her soon had him aroused to the point where it was painful. Ewan wanted to feel those firm, plump breasts nestling into his palms. He wanted those long, strong legs of hers to be wrapped around his waist. He desperately wanted to hear her cry out his name whilst caught fast in the throes of the passion he would stir within her.

      It was madness. The dreams of a fool. He was big, dark in looks and in humor, and badly scarred. Women did not flock to him as they did to Gregor. Once a year he spent a night with a whore, who took his coin and never begged him to return soon. If a woman ever cried out his name, it was in fear.

      Ewan closed his eyes and swore he would kill this attraction. For many reasons, he had decided to remain a man alone. If he was not careful, did not guard his feelings, he feared his lovely hostage could easily change his mind, could make him try to reach for what he could never have.

      Chapter 3

      Fiona dreamed of her horse tossing her to the ground and running away, leaving her to her fate. She scowled, wondering why she felt as if the contrary beast had thrown her, then fallen on top of her. Still more asleep than awake, she opened her eyes, but she saw neither grass nor rocky ground, only a blanket. That made no sense. People did not leave blankets spread about ready to catch someone thrown from their horse.

      Forcing the lingering clouds of sleep from her mind, Fiona raised a hand to rub her eyes, only to gape. Her wrists were tied together. A heartbeat later, her memory returned and her mind cleared. It was no horse on top of her, squeezing all the breath from her lungs, but her captor.

      She tried to wriggle out from beneath him, but he had her firmly pinned to the blanket. All she accomplished was to rouse him enough to make him shift his position a little. Fiona nearly gasped aloud when she became aware of exactly what was now nudging against her backside. She not only had a very big man crushing her; she had a very big aroused man crushing her. Although she told herself the way her heart raced was due to fear, she knew she was lying. There was a faint touch of alarm within her, for the man felt to be impressively well endowed. What truly upset her, however, was the sudden urge to move her hips and nudge him back. Obviously, a night’s sleep had not restored her senses at all.

      When she felt him nuzzle the side of her neck, a strange warmth flooded her body. Even as she savored that feeling, she could hear her brother’s wife laughingly say that a man often rises with the sun. Her blood cooled. Sir Ewan was probably not even fully awake. He had simply risen with the sun, felt a warm female body at his side, and was planning to make use of it. Well, if he was going to nuzzle and nudge, she thought crossly, he could at least know whom he was doing it to.

      “Get off me, ye great ox,” she muttered, moving whatever part of her body she could in a vain attempt to push him away. “I cannae breathe.”

      Ewan opened his eyes and stared down at the woman he was sprawled on top of. He was tired, having gotten little sleep, but he woke up quickly when he realized the position he was in. God’s teeth, he had been nuzzling her neck and he was as hard as a rock. Even worse, he had obviously been rubbing that hardness against her lovely backside. The position they were in was so deliciously suggestive, he trembled faintly from the sheer strength of his desire. Silently cursing, he moved off her so abruptly, he sharply yanked on her bound wrists.

      “Pardon,” he mumbled and, hearing his men begin to stir, reached over to untie her.

      Fiona slowly sat up and took several deep breaths to calm herself. She had the unsettling feeling it was going to be a long while before she could forget the feel of his big, strong, and highly aroused body pressed so close to hers. That both frightened and annoyed her. Not only did she know nothing about this man, but it was a very poor time for her to be suffering such an attraction, or infatuation, or whatever it was that was plaguing her. She already had one too many men in her life, she thought angrily as she stood up, brushed herself off, and started toward the trees.

      “Where do ye think ye are going?” he demanded as he leapt to his feet and began to follow her.

      “Tis morning. What do most people have to do in the morning when they first awake, ye fool?” When she heard him continue to follow her, she whirled around to confront him, and was pleased when he hastily backed up a step. “I dinnae need any assistance.”

      “But ye do need guarding.” He swiftly looped one end of the rope he still held around her wrist and retied the other end around his own. “Weel? Go on.” He almost backed up another step when she glared at him.

      For one brief moment, Fiona considered not going. It would be humiliating to relieve herself with him standing so close by. Unfortunately, her full bladder was making it all too clear that she would regret that decision, would humiliate herself even more if she did not hurry on her way. Muttering curses against all men, she started on her way again, glaring hard at his broad back when he took the lead.

      As she found herself on one side of a tangled clump of shrubs with him on the other a few minutes later, Fiona did wonder why she was so disturbed by it all. She had been raised by her five brothers, and there had been very little refinement or delicacy at Deilcladach for the first thirteen years of her life. When Gillyanne had arrived, some gentling of their rough ways had followed, but she doubted anyone would consider the MacEnroys refined. Performing a basic, necessary function within the hearing of another should not be troubling her as much as it was. It troubled her so much that, despite her desperate need, she was unable to relieve herself until he began. When had she become such a delicate СКАЧАТЬ