Devil of Kilmartin Read Online Free Page B

and all was dark about her.
    “Damn!”
    She felt as much as heard the deep rumble of his voice, and she had the curious feeling she should react, but she didn’t want to.
    “ ’Tis not what I would have chosen, but we have little choice.”
    “What?” she asked, trying to think who this was talking to her. Knowledge snapped into place and she quickly sat up. She had her arms around the Devil. She’d nestled against his back, shared his body heat, been lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.
    Cold air replaced the comforting warmth of a moment ago, and she felt a curious loss. Those moments of sleepy contentment were so unusual, so out of her experience,that she desperately wished them back, despite the source of them, yet she could not give in to the need. She had let her guard down. She dared not do so again.
    Symon swung down off the horse and strode across the small yard. Just as he reached the door, it swung open, but Elena could not see who stood in the door speaking to the Devil in a low gravely voice. After a moment he returned to her.
    “There’s a bed for you inside and a pot of porridge if you’re hungry.” His voice was sharp and Elena wondered what she’d done to anger him. “Come,” he said, reaching up to help her down from the horse.
    Elena had no choice but to allow his touch. The horse was very tall, but not so much that the Devil couldn’t reach her waist with ease. His hands radiated heat through her tattered clothing, and he lifted her quickly from the horse. He released her as soon as her feet touched the ground, as if he were uncomfortable touching her.
    Well, at least on that count, Dougal was correct. She was not a woman to attract the physical attention of men. But of course she did not wish the physical attention of this man, nor any other. She quickly shushed a little voice that reminded her how nice it had been moments ago, sleeping against the Devil’s firmly muscled back.
    Symon grabbed her hand and led her to the open door. “Auld Morag is within. She is a wee bit daft but harmless. Do not pay too much mind to what she says.” With that he released her hand and disappeared into the deepening darkness. Elena heard rather than saw him lead the horse around the side of the cottage.
    She shivered, uncertain whether to enter the cottage or not, when the gravely voice beckoned her. “Come in,lassie, come in and shut the door. ’Tis cold, ’tis, for my auld bones.”
    Elena realized just how cold she was and made her decision, entering the dark, smoke-filled cottage quickly.
     
    S ymon led his horse to one corner of the byre, brushed him down with a handful of straw, and pulled a bit of oats from Auld Morag’s stores.
    ’Twas more than he would get this night.
    He pulled his plaid around him and headed back around the cottage. He had tasted salvation at the lass’s touch. He would not chance her leaving him before he could test his theory. He couldn’t help but remember the feel of her pressed against his back, her arms twined around his waist, the pleasant comfort of that simple act of trust.
    He pushed that aside. He could not let soft thoughts, nor soft feelings, fog his purpose. She could serve him well, and thereby save his clan. And he would see it so even though it meant sleeping on the cold ground at Auld Morag’s door. He dared not find a more comfortable bed lest she slip away while he slept. The doorway would suffice. And in the morn he would have his answer.
    Symon sat, his back to the door. The scent of peat smoke and Auld Morag’s burning herbs drifted to him, and he could hear the quiet murmur of women’s voices from within. “Let her sleep,” he muttered to himself. “I will need her rested on the morrow if she is to prove her abilities.”
    He loosened his belt, arranged his plaid to cover him, then laid his claymore by his side. He leaned his head against the hard door and was instantly asleep.
     
    E lena coughed. Her throat tickled from the