Highlanders: The Warrior and the Rose / The Forbidden Highlander / Rescued by the Highland Warrior. Michelle Willingham

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СКАЧАТЬ cringed. She looked at Alasdair, who was dark with anger. “I am not her captive, nor will I ever be. She is no spy. She is my captive.”

      “Ye had better make certain,” Angus Mor warned. In anger, he left.

      She trembled, alone now with the two brothers. Angus Og was studying her, but not with hostility—he seemed curious. He nodded once, then followed his father into the great room.

      Juliana was awaiting Alasdair’s rage—his attack. His face was cold now, as cold as his father’s had been. “We will speak of this later,” he finally said. “Go into the hall.”

      Juliana nodded and rushed to obey.

      Angus Mor was already at the table, and fiercely eating. Angus Og was embracing Lady MacDonald before sitting down between her and his father. Mary was seated on the other side of the table with her children. Juliana avoided Mary’s questioning look as she squeezed onto the bench beside her nephews, as far away from Angus Mor as possible. She wished she were not at the table at all.

      She quickly began filling her own trencher with fish and game. Tears felt as if they were imminent.

      What had she inadvertently done? It was one thing to be Alasdair’s prisoner, another his father’s. Alasdair remained the enemy, but he was rational and just compared to his father. And he had an interest in her, one beyond that of a captor toward his captive.

      She worried that Angus Mor would interfere and assert his authority over her. She must not forget that there would never be mercy from the older man. In his eyes, she was his worst enemy’s sister and nothing more, a pawn to be ruthlessly used.

      Alasdair strode into the room. Juliana avoided looking at him. He did not sit down with his parents and his brother. He went to her side of the table, and sat down on the end of the bench next to her, not giving her a single glance, either. He began piling food upon his plate. He looked up at no one and he did not speak.

      No action could be clearer. She was his prisoner, and he meant to make certain that there was no doubt. But it also felt as if he had staked a claim, as if he meant to indicate that she was also under his protection.

      Oddly, she felt reassured by his gesture.

      But his father was angered, she could see that, as he ate in dark silence.

      She meant to force herself to eat, but it was impossible. It was Angus Og who broke the tension, as he began telling his father about a feud involving land in Jute. Angus Mor turned his full attention upon his second son, asking him questions about the dispute, and Juliana felt some small relief. She hoped to never attract the chief’s attention again.

      When the meal was finally over and they had politely bid everyone good-night, the sisters hurried upstairs, shooing the boys up ahead of them. As Donald and Roger ran inside the bedchamber, Mary took Juliana’s hand, halting her on its threshold. “What is going on?” she asked quietly, but with strain. “Did you argue with Angus Mor?”

      Juliana shook her head. But as she did so, she saw Alasdair approaching. Mary turned and saw him, too.

      “No, she did not argue with my father,” he said. “She spied on him, instead.”

      Mary gasped.

      “Juliana, I wish a word with ye.”

      Juliana stiffened. “I think we should speak on the morrow,” she began.

      He took her arm, his hold uncompromising. “No. We will speak now.” He looked coolly at Mary. “Good night.”

      Mary did not move, her eyes wide, and Juliana was certain she thought that she was in trouble, and more, that she might even be worried about Alasdair’s ultimate intentions.

      “Good night, Lady Comyn,” Alasdair said firmly.

      Mary suddenly hugged her. “Please, do not be reckless!” and then she hurried into their chamber.

      Alasdair did not hesitate. Still gripping Juliana by the arm, he closed the door after Mary. He gave Juliana a sidelong look and pulled her down the corridor with him. She had to run to keep up with him.

      The moment they were within his chamber, he shut the door. He released her, went to the fire and stoked it. It blazed.

      Juliana bit her lip hard. He was angry with her, and she expected his wrath, but she also knew exactly how he meant to end the night. And that knowledge made her blood hum hungrily within her veins, even though she knew she must resist him.

      He straightened and faced her, slowly removing his plaid. “Do not ever spy upon me or mine again.”

      She stiffened as he threw the plaid onto the room’s single chair. “Alasdair. I did not intend to spy.”

      “Ye realize,” he said, “that I cannot allow ye to communicate with yer brother now.” He unbuckled the belt and tossed that aside, as well.

      She was dry of mouth. “I did not understand what you were speaking of,” she said, though she had understood everything.

      He laughed, sitting on the bed. He pulled off one boot. “Ye ken. Ye ken we need our allies to take the throne fer Bruce.”

      She trembled. “I cannot stay here tonight.”

      He pulled off his other boot and stood up. “Ye can—and ye will.” And he walked to her and seized her shoulders, hard. “Ye ran away last night. Ye will not run away now.”

      Her hands found his hard chest. “Mary will know.”

      “Yer sister will never betray ye.” And then he kissed her, hard and open-mouthed.

      Juliana closed her eyes, her senses rioting, pressing every inch of her body against his, as closely as she could, her arms around him now. She kissed him wildly back. Alasdair made a hard sound, and he carried her to the bed.

      CHAPTER SIX

      “I HOPE I pleased ye enough last night that ye will not think to spy on me today.”

      Juliana clutched the fur covers to her chest. It was not yet dawn, and she had spent the entire night in Alasdair’s bed—making love with him. She had thought the first few hours they had shared wildly passionate, but that had been a mere prelude to the frightening levels they had later reached.

      She gazed at him, reeling. How could she find such enjoyment in her enemy’s arms? And how was she to define their relationship now?

      They were lovers, but that did not change the fact that she was his hostage. Did he care for her at all? Wouldn’t he release her if he did?

      “Yer staring.”

      If she were not his prisoner, she would flirt with him now, as he was so gloriously naked. “What does last night have to do with today?”

      He shrugged his leine on, covering his magnificent body, and gave her a hard look. “Everything.”

      She wet her lips. “So last night had some significance?”

      He СКАЧАТЬ