Highland Wolf (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman

"I had to press it back in."
    She hugged her injured arm closer to her body while tugging the woolen to her chin. "And what was wrong with my legs?" she asked.
    Roman cleared his throat again. "Na a thing, lass. Ye can take me own word on that."
    She blushed. He saw the color, pink and soft, staining her cheeks like the first light of dawn.
    "Why do you pad your clothing?" he asked softly.
    She licked her lips and darted her gaze about the room. "I think that is hardly your affair."
    He shrugged. Her cheeks were still colored, and he could not help but smooth a finger down to her chin. "It could be said that ye owe me a favor, lass."
    The blush drained from her cheeks. "What... did you have in mind?"
    Was there fear in her eyes? And if so, why? What kind of whore would be afraid of the intimacy between a man and a woman?
    "In truth, lass," he said softly. "Seeing ye thus gave me enough pleasure. I ask for no more than a bit of honesty."
    She pulled a deep breath through her mouth. Her shoulders relaxed marginally. "Did you... Did you kill them?"
    Roman drew his hand reluctantly away and rose to his feet. Memories flooded back, and with them, self-incrimination. He could have merely wounded them. He could have frightened them away. "Aye," he said, turning as he crunched his hands into fists. 'They are dead."
    'Thank you."
    Roman turned back. "Dunna thank me."
    "Why?"
    "Because ye dunna ken what I am."
    She scowled. "'Then what are you, Scotsman?"
    "I..." His throat felt tight. "I didna kill them for ye."
    "You knew them?"
    "Nay," he said. "I knew them na. I but knew their kind."
    She seemed to have relaxed a bit. "Tell me, Scotsman, are ya always so confusing?"
    "I am usually neither confused nor confusing," he said, turning away. "I fear Firthport brings out the worst in me." They were difficult words to say, but hearing them gave him some relief, allowed some feeling of normalcy.
    "So tell me, Scotsman," she said softly. "This is yer worst?"
    He turned slowly back, finding her eyes. "I killed them, lass, for na reason."
    "I like to think my life is worth something."
    Self-doubt galled him, but her beauty soothed the raw, emotional wounds. Still, he did not deserve to be soothed. "As I said lass I did not kill them for ye."
    "They had no quarrel with you, Scotsman."
    "I ken that but—"
    "Why were you there if not to protect me?"
    "I..." In the beginning he had come to protect her. But in the inferno of the battle, he had lost control. 'Twas an unforgivable sin. "I didna have ta kill them," he said.
    She watched him very closely. "Ahh. So ya think ya could have just asked them nicely to leave me be, I suppose."
    Roman said nothing.
    "They would have killed me, Scotsman," she said softly. "Without regret, without feeling, they would have killed me, had it not been for you."
    Her words gave something back to him—something that had been lost in the alley.
    "Why, lass?" he asked softly. "Why would they kill ye?"
    She laughed, but the sound was hollow. "Because they were Dagger's men."
    Roman shook his head. "Who is this Dagger?"
    She remained silent for a moment. "I thought ya knew. Ya told them as much."
    "Tonight I saw..." He paused. The memory seemed little more than a black dream. "The night the necklace was stolen, three men broke into my room." He turned away, confusion crowding in. "But the necklace was already gone. I remembered one of the men's faces and followed him to Dag-ger.
    "No!" She gasped the word.
    Roman turned toward her in surprise. "What's wrong, lass? Is it yer arm?"
    "My arm?" She laughed aloud, but her face was pale. "You don't know who you're dealing with, Scotsman."
    He relaxed a smidgen. "I've some idea."
    "He'll kill you," she whispered. "Or worse."
    Taking a few steps, he approached her bed. "Would ye care, lass?"
    "Stay away from him. Leave Firthport." Her eyes were bright with emotion.
    What did those eyes show? Fear? For him? "I canna."
    "Why?"
    "Because I made a vow."
    "Is it worth your