Somewhere My Lass Read Online Free Page B

The ministrations of a priest were sorely wanted here. Wherever here was.
    Her first thought—she was back in that hated cell with its odd assortment of torture devices, and the second—Neil MacKenzie had much to answer for.
    A third thought occurred in rapid succession; where had that thieving Englisher gotten to? She needed the chamber pot, and she’d rather die than petition Neil to fetch it for her.
    Not only was she loath for him to witness her using it, God forbid, but he might have to help her rise. Given her unsteady state, she might well have need of his aid. She doubted she could stand alone yet and envisioned his strong arms encircling her.
    As much as she longed for his embrace, this wasn’t the moment. And he wasn’t yet his true self. Just now, she clung to her indignation. Rightly deserved and preferable to feeling utterly lost.
    If she could just struggle to her feet…heavy eyes drifted shut.
    “Mora?” Neil’s hand was warm on her shoulder. “The sooner you wake up, the sooner we can go.”
    She blinked at his handsome face, but her eyes refused to stay open. Haze swirled back, carrying her to a soft place. Coming toward her through the mist was Niall clothed in his red and green plaid, sae glad to see her. Joy imbued her soul. His strong arms enfolded her as they once had, his fingers stroking her hair.
    He whispered in her ear, “Mora, m’ love, m’ own.”
    She shivered at his husky endearment.
    “Mora?”
    A sigh escaped her. She roused again to find the new Neil eyeing her with a quizzical expression and something more. Not the tender gaze Niall had bestowed on her, but a hint of it. Compassion, mayhap.
    Oh, but his pity was the last thing she desired. If only she didn’t ache to her very marrow for him to hold her close even if it was only in pity.
    Would she ever see her home again? More urgent, would Neil find a way to return with her to Donhowel, ever remember it was his home too, and he to be her wedded husband?
    Ah Niall, m’ dearest love, return to me. Swiftly, as if borne on the wings of an eagle.

 
    Chapter Five
    Night wind ruffling his hair, Neil bent down and took Mora’s smaller hand in his to help her out of the car. By the glow of the streetlight, he detected the curvature of her mouth, the narrow set of her eyes. Nor did she grasp his hand with any relish. He understood she held him accountable for his part in her hospital ordeal, but he couldn’t neglect having her properly examined by a physician.
    As to the rest of her annoyance with him, he wasn’t entirely clear how he’d erred. No doubt, she’d let him know. Meanwhile, she had no viable option other than to go where he took her.
    It crossed his mind that she might attempt some unviable avenue, like running away from him as soon as she was able; that, he was determined to prevent. The thought of her off on her own in this manic state was alarming in the extreme.
    He’d better keep a close eye on her. It was bizarre having to watch Mrs. Dannon’s niece like an escapee from a psych ward but what choice did he have? Never for a single moment would he consider having Mora committed.
    When Mrs. Dannon mentioned a visit from this particular relative, Neil had anticipated an amiable middle-aged Scotswoman with a thick brogue, round face, and equally thick figure. He’d expected her to arrive outfitted in tweeds and sensible shoes, her knitting in one hand and binoculars for bird watching in the other.
    Likely she’d bake scones, too, he’d thought, make pots of tea, and be a whiz at Scrabble . He’d pictured her cozened up by the fireplace with Mrs. Dannon, working the crossword. Then maybe the companionable pair would take in a nature show on the telly, as the Brits called it, or a leisurely stroll.
    Mora was none of that. She couldn’t have been more opposite if he’d dreamed her up. Exasperating and explosive, breathtaking and bemusing, she fascinated and baffled him, and could be more than a little