In Bed with the Highlander Read Online Free Page B

curmudgeon would have long gone to her bed. As a lad,
Gavin had received more than one wallop on his backside from her wooden spoon
for stealing vittles.
    “Sit,” he said to Moirag, who was gazing around as if she had
never seen a kitchen before. She perched on a stool, her bare toes curling into
the rushes, her fingers torturing a stray thread at the hem of her exotic tunic.
Saints, she was lovely. Not pretty and gentle as a lass ought to be, but bold
and strong, like some wild mountain she-cat. Her green eyes glistened in the
firelight, taking in everything as if seeking escape. More flights of fancy.
    Food. He needed food.
    He went to the pantry and found a couple of loaves intended for
the poor at the gate the next morn. Well, they’d just have to have fresh. He set
them on the table along with a pat of butter. He looked in the next cupboard and
found the knuckle end of a ham. Enough for two.
    She shrieked.
    He spun around. An old hound had his nose in her lap and was
snuffling in a very intimate way. God’s teeth. What he’d do to change places
with that hound.
    His blood rushed south.
    She batted the dog’s nose. “You ill-mannered creature.” The
hound backed up.
    Gavin laughed. The dog turned its old head and scented the air.
“Get on with you, Ran,” he said. “Leave the lady alone.” Ran wandered back to
his place by the hearth. She must not have seen him when they came in.
    “God,” she said. “He scared the life out of me.”
    Not a pleasant vision. “I hope not.”
    She stared at him for a moment. “Oh. Right.” She stood up and
stretched, her high breasts pressing against the wisp of shimmering fabric.
Never had he seen a woman in such an alluring garment. Transparent trews and
tunic that unbuttoned down the front. For ease of access. He almost swallowed
his tongue and his body responded in appreciation. Perhaps she was one of those
prostitutes from Edinburgh. Duncan’s bit of comfort for a cold night.
Dammit.
    “Take a seat at the table,” he choked out. “All I can offer you
is bread and ham.”
    “Sounds heavenly.” He focused on slicing the bread.
    “Wonder of wonders. Freshly churned butter.” She slipped into
the seat opposite him. He passed her a slice of bread skewered on the tip of his
knife.
    She bit into it. Her teeth were white and perfect.
    More happy physical appreciation in his lower extremities as if
he was a thirteen-year-old boy. In self-defense, he straddled the bench. “So
tell me why you are here?”
    “Why?” She looked nonplussed.
    “Aye. Why are you visiting Duncan with so much unrest in the
countryside and when you are clearly a town girl?”
    She chewed her bread slowly. “Can I have some ham?”
    He cut her a slice, not fooled by her stalling tactics. “Go
on.”
    “I um... It’s a long story.”
    “I have all night. And I want the truth of it now. I’ll know
very well if you lie, so be warned.”
    “And what will you do? Spit me with your sword and roast me for
dinner.”
    The image fired his wicked imagination. “I’d like to.”
    “What?”
    He couldn’t help it, his voice lowered as did his lashes as his
gaze dropped to the full glory of her breasts outlined by firelight. “I’d like
to eat you.”
    Her indrawn breath and smoky expression said she might not be
averse to a bit of biting and licking. His arousal hardened to rock. Hard enough
to hold up a tent, let alone a wee scrap of a plaid. Thank the Lord she could
not see through the table.
    He poured some ale from the flagon. “Here.” His voice sounded
hoarser than one of the selkies out on the shore.
    She picked up the goblet and took a sip. A grimace passed
across her face. “Don’t you have any water?”
    “None fresh. Unless I go to the well.” Come to think of it, a
trip to the well in the cool night air might not go amiss right now. He picked
up the ewer and another hunk of bread. “Sit tight and I’ll be right back.”
    She blessed him with a blindingly bright smile.