dislocated knee and broken ribs took too long to heal the natural way. If she healed him overnight, he could fake his injuries to his advantage. Sympathy was sometimes a woman’s greatest weakness. Most women tended to be nurturers.
He drew a shaking breath and clenched his fists. The fierce throbbing worsened. Surely, her arrival would be soon. He shifted uncomfortably on the cold, damp floor. Her whisper echoed in the darkness as the chill of the room settled deeper into his swollen knee. Her icy fingertips tickled up his flesh. She searched for the broken edges of his painful ribs. His heart hammered faster as she stroked her hands up and down his sides...and then her icy touch slid lower.
The flames of the candles shot higher into the darkness even as a layer of frost crackled across the floor. His skin seared to the frozen stone surface. As he shivered, his flesh split and tore. Now she stroked him and purred in his ear. How could anyone ever deny her? He would serve her forever and even longer. She promised him power; she promised him pleasure, and, best of all, she promisd him sweet revenge.
Chapter Twelve
Nessa sat hunched in front of the glowing laptop, peering through the glasses on the end of her nose. With a groan, she yanked them off her face and threw them on the desk. Leaning back in the chair, she covered her face with her hands and massaged her gritty eyes. Last night had started out as a nervous mess and then plummeted into a catastrophe. Gabriel had ended up being hurt, and now sported a wrenched knee and three broken ribs.
She and Trish had gotten him tucked in at Cordelia’s house in the early hours of the morning. They had discovered Cordelia was not only his waitress but more like the family he’d never had. She and her mother had more or less adopted Gabriel when he’d first settled in Durness after leaving his homeland of Ireland. Cordelia was as fiercely loyal to Gabriel as any natural born sister would ever be.
When Nessa had gotten back to her room, she’d fallen into bed. She hadn’t even moved the pile of discarded clothes, just curled her tired body around them. She’d fallen right to sleep. But her dreams had been torture, not the usual erotic bliss with her loving Highlander. With a shuddering sigh, Nessa closed her eyes, replaying the nightmare from the evening before.
Her Highlander had appeared but he’d been enraged, so angry she thought he might speak for the first time since she’d met him. But he’d just gestured back and forth from his heart to hers. His eyes had flashed with rage as he’d pounded on his chest. He’d clenched his teeth and raked his hands through his hair. He’d reminded her of a madman. Toward the end of the dream, he’d spread his hands in front of her and somehow caused an image of Gabriel to appear. Horrified, Nessa had watched as her ancient Highlander had swung his claymore and separated Gabriel’s body from his head.
The Scot was an animal, panting like a primeval beast with blood and hatred in his eyes. He’d raised his bloodied weapon into the air with one hand and Gabriel’s dripping head in the other. He’d thrown his head back, lips curled into an open-mouthed sneer. The corded muscles of his throat had moved as though he roared a silent battle cry.
She’d awakened with her heart in her throat, unable to breathe as though someone had held a pillow over her face. Nessa swallowed hard and sat up in bed. She shook for hours afterward. Choked with tears, Nessa hugged herself against the fury of the dream. The image had been so real. She’d clearly seen the terror in Gabriel’s eyes as he’d watched the blade swing toward his neck. She’d witnessed as his body had slowly teetered forward. His warm, salty blood had sprayed over her face and arms.
How could her gentle lover be such a beast? Take such pleasure in killing an innocent man? She might not have formed any feelings for Gabriel but she’d been
He drew a shaking breath and clenched his fists. The fierce throbbing worsened. Surely, her arrival would be soon. He shifted uncomfortably on the cold, damp floor. Her whisper echoed in the darkness as the chill of the room settled deeper into his swollen knee. Her icy fingertips tickled up his flesh. She searched for the broken edges of his painful ribs. His heart hammered faster as she stroked her hands up and down his sides...and then her icy touch slid lower.
The flames of the candles shot higher into the darkness even as a layer of frost crackled across the floor. His skin seared to the frozen stone surface. As he shivered, his flesh split and tore. Now she stroked him and purred in his ear. How could anyone ever deny her? He would serve her forever and even longer. She promised him power; she promised him pleasure, and, best of all, she promisd him sweet revenge.
Chapter Twelve
Nessa sat hunched in front of the glowing laptop, peering through the glasses on the end of her nose. With a groan, she yanked them off her face and threw them on the desk. Leaning back in the chair, she covered her face with her hands and massaged her gritty eyes. Last night had started out as a nervous mess and then plummeted into a catastrophe. Gabriel had ended up being hurt, and now sported a wrenched knee and three broken ribs.
She and Trish had gotten him tucked in at Cordelia’s house in the early hours of the morning. They had discovered Cordelia was not only his waitress but more like the family he’d never had. She and her mother had more or less adopted Gabriel when he’d first settled in Durness after leaving his homeland of Ireland. Cordelia was as fiercely loyal to Gabriel as any natural born sister would ever be.
When Nessa had gotten back to her room, she’d fallen into bed. She hadn’t even moved the pile of discarded clothes, just curled her tired body around them. She’d fallen right to sleep. But her dreams had been torture, not the usual erotic bliss with her loving Highlander. With a shuddering sigh, Nessa closed her eyes, replaying the nightmare from the evening before.
Her Highlander had appeared but he’d been enraged, so angry she thought he might speak for the first time since she’d met him. But he’d just gestured back and forth from his heart to hers. His eyes had flashed with rage as he’d pounded on his chest. He’d clenched his teeth and raked his hands through his hair. He’d reminded her of a madman. Toward the end of the dream, he’d spread his hands in front of her and somehow caused an image of Gabriel to appear. Horrified, Nessa had watched as her ancient Highlander had swung his claymore and separated Gabriel’s body from his head.
The Scot was an animal, panting like a primeval beast with blood and hatred in his eyes. He’d raised his bloodied weapon into the air with one hand and Gabriel’s dripping head in the other. He’d thrown his head back, lips curled into an open-mouthed sneer. The corded muscles of his throat had moved as though he roared a silent battle cry.
She’d awakened with her heart in her throat, unable to breathe as though someone had held a pillow over her face. Nessa swallowed hard and sat up in bed. She shook for hours afterward. Choked with tears, Nessa hugged herself against the fury of the dream. The image had been so real. She’d clearly seen the terror in Gabriel’s eyes as he’d watched the blade swing toward his neck. She’d witnessed as his body had slowly teetered forward. His warm, salty blood had sprayed over her face and arms.
How could her gentle lover be such a beast? Take such pleasure in killing an innocent man? She might not have formed any feelings for Gabriel but she’d been
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