Highland Vow by Hannah Howell

understand the danger of going off alone. “What if they had been Sir Coilin’s men?”
    Elspeth bit her bottom lip in consternation, for she realized she had forgotten all about that looming threat. “I dinnae think they were.”
    “Nay, but they could have been. The next men might be. I havenae yet seen any signs of the mon, but I ken he is searching for you. He has killed to get ye once, so we ken there is nothing he willnae do to get ye back.”
    “If he can find me,” she felt compelled to protest. “That willnae be easy.”
    “True, but it isnae impossible, either, and ye arenae the only one who forgot that.” He glanced back at the few men in the tavern, scowling when he caught them all staring at Elspeth. “Weel, ’tis plain that ye cannae be left alone. Fate clearly doesnae want me to veer an inch from the torturous path she has set me on,” he muttered. “Wait here.” After sending the men in the tavern one sweeping glare as a warning to stay away from Elspeth, he went in search of the innkeeper.
    The incident with the village bullies had shown Cormac that he could not leave Elspeth alone, could not separate himself from the temptation of her and protect her at the same time. He felt torn as he informed the innkeeper that he now wished to share the room with his wife . Part of him was quite obviously pleased at the prospect of sharing a bed with Elspeth, of sharing that glorious passion that flared so easily between them, but another part of him was disgusted by his own weakness. In the end he would be using Elspeth, sating his body with hers while holding all else for another. Despite her apparent acceptance of that, he knew she deserved so much more.
    It was not until she was back in her room, watching a grim-faced Cormac bring in his things, that Elspeth realized what had happened. They would no longer have separate rooms. She washed up in preparation for the meal they would soon share and fought hard to hide her delight over the arrangements. She easily excused the way Cormac looked as if he was facing the gallows. No man would be pleased to have his strenuous attempts to be chivalrous all ruined. Recalling the desire she had felt in him, that passion that had so readily equaled her own, made it easier to endure his black mood. After all, he would not be so upset if he was confident he could resist her.
    Her understanding was severely strained as they shared a hearty meal. Cormac responded so abysmally to her attempts at conversation that she finally gave up. She began to think the night was not going to be the wondrous passionate time she had hoped for. Surely a man sunk so deeply into a black mood, as Cormac now was, could not feel amorous.
    Trying to convince herself that there was still a chance to continue her plan, Elspeth excused herself and went to the room they were going to share. She washed up, donned her scandalous night rail, and dabbed her new scent in what she hoped were all the appropriate spots. Then, instinct telling her it would not be wise to face Cormac so boldly until he had released some of the blackness weighing him down, she wrapped herself in a blanket. Praying that he would not stay in the tavern drinking himself into a stupor, she curled up in a hard chair near the small fire and waited.
    When Cormac finally joined her, he looked neither drunk nor quite as black humored as he had earlier. He did, however, look chagrined that she was still awake. After giving her an absent smile, he sat down on the edge of the bed and took off hisboots. Elspeth decided that she could lose little by trying to find out what ailed the man.
    “Ye look as if someone has died,” she said, moving to stand in front of him.
    Cormac noticed she was barefoot and sighed. She really did have pretty, little feet. Elspeth had none of the attributes poets and minstrels praised. She was not fair of hair or blue of eye or sweet, modest, and retiring. Nor was she fulsome, although her slender body held all