pounding for eternity. The moon disappeared once more beneath
a black strip of angry sky, snatching the milky moonlight away. Blackness oozed where
the muted light once reigned.
Skirting the rocky shore, he climbed slowly upward through the onyx dark, past the
ancient standing stones. At the edge of the heather-dotted cliff, he found Averyl
bathed in shadow, a small mass huddled beneath a white blanket. Her hair whipped behind
her like a sail in the screeching wind as he approached. Her satchel lay next to her,
on its side.
Relief zipped through him. On the heels of that came fury. He needed her here, as
much for her own safety as the success of his plan. She must understand that.
Drake stepped toward her, forming a tongue-lashing in his mind. Then the wind carried
her cry to his ears.
Why did that cry bother him so? More this time than last?
Did she know he approached and seek to win his sympathy? ’Twould be like a woman…all
except Aric’s Gwenyth. She would flail a man with her dagger tongue before showing
him her tears. But with the fair Gwenyth settled happily into married life with his
friend at Northwell, Drake did not believe he’d meet another woman with so forthright
a manner. Particularly not a Campbell.
Drake crouched behind Averyl, ready to berate her. Before he could speak, her tresses
whipped up to graze his cheek. She smelled of salt and those damned white flowers.
He doused pleasure with anger.
“You cannot escape, Averyl. Give me the key.”
She gasped at hearing his voice and turned. Drake expected many reactions, a struggle,
a scream, another run for freedom.
Never did he expect she would throw her arms about him and press her small, trembling
body against him.
Hesitantly, he drew his arms about her. She burrowed closer against him. An urge to
protect her bolted through him, and he frowned against it.
“What ploy is this, little witch?” he whispered into the wind. “Do you seek to confuse
me?”
She shook her head wildly. “I am frightened.”
“Of me?” he asked, puzzled.
Her sob pierced his vexation. She sounded so distraught, so afraid…
“The dark frightens me even more than you,” she confessed in trembling tones. “Please
do not let aught hurt me.”
The hard rock of fury in his gut began to melt as the urge to protect blasted him
once more. He drew her tiny chilled body against him. She’d been out here minutes,
perhaps hours, fearing what she could not see, and trusted him to save her?
He stroked the soft waves of her golden hair. “No harm will befall you whilst I am
near.”
She nodded and relaxed against him.
For long moments, she said naught, only clutched him as if he were the rope preventing
her from a death drop over a cliff. He held her only to ease her fears. He did not
feel pleasure at her trust, nor arousal at the firm mounds of her breasts against
him. He noticed not the silken slide of her tresses through his fingers. At least
for no more than a moment or two.
Ach, what a fool. He did notice that—and more, like sounds of soft breath rushing
from her ripe mouth, the satiny skin at her nape. He could scarce do naught but notice.
“How did you come to fear the dark?” he asked, breaking the dangerous spell of silence
about them.
“You will think me foolish,” she demurred.
“No fear is foolish if it truly frightens you.”
Averyl bit her quivering lip, then drew in a deep breath. “I… When I was six years,
the MacDuffs lay siege to Abbotsford. M-my mother took me from my bed, up into one
of the towers for safety.” She clinched her hands in her lap and pressed her lips
together. “At-at the top, darkness abounded. A pair of rough hands wrenched me from
her grasp. I heard her scream…but could see naught.” After another shaky breath, she
pressed on. “Hours passed while I cried her name into the silence. Come morning, sunlight
revealed that she’d been
a black strip of angry sky, snatching the milky moonlight away. Blackness oozed where
the muted light once reigned.
Skirting the rocky shore, he climbed slowly upward through the onyx dark, past the
ancient standing stones. At the edge of the heather-dotted cliff, he found Averyl
bathed in shadow, a small mass huddled beneath a white blanket. Her hair whipped behind
her like a sail in the screeching wind as he approached. Her satchel lay next to her,
on its side.
Relief zipped through him. On the heels of that came fury. He needed her here, as
much for her own safety as the success of his plan. She must understand that.
Drake stepped toward her, forming a tongue-lashing in his mind. Then the wind carried
her cry to his ears.
Why did that cry bother him so? More this time than last?
Did she know he approached and seek to win his sympathy? ’Twould be like a woman…all
except Aric’s Gwenyth. She would flail a man with her dagger tongue before showing
him her tears. But with the fair Gwenyth settled happily into married life with his
friend at Northwell, Drake did not believe he’d meet another woman with so forthright
a manner. Particularly not a Campbell.
Drake crouched behind Averyl, ready to berate her. Before he could speak, her tresses
whipped up to graze his cheek. She smelled of salt and those damned white flowers.
He doused pleasure with anger.
“You cannot escape, Averyl. Give me the key.”
She gasped at hearing his voice and turned. Drake expected many reactions, a struggle,
a scream, another run for freedom.
Never did he expect she would throw her arms about him and press her small, trembling
body against him.
Hesitantly, he drew his arms about her. She burrowed closer against him. An urge to
protect her bolted through him, and he frowned against it.
“What ploy is this, little witch?” he whispered into the wind. “Do you seek to confuse
me?”
She shook her head wildly. “I am frightened.”
“Of me?” he asked, puzzled.
Her sob pierced his vexation. She sounded so distraught, so afraid…
“The dark frightens me even more than you,” she confessed in trembling tones. “Please
do not let aught hurt me.”
The hard rock of fury in his gut began to melt as the urge to protect blasted him
once more. He drew her tiny chilled body against him. She’d been out here minutes,
perhaps hours, fearing what she could not see, and trusted him to save her?
He stroked the soft waves of her golden hair. “No harm will befall you whilst I am
near.”
She nodded and relaxed against him.
For long moments, she said naught, only clutched him as if he were the rope preventing
her from a death drop over a cliff. He held her only to ease her fears. He did not
feel pleasure at her trust, nor arousal at the firm mounds of her breasts against
him. He noticed not the silken slide of her tresses through his fingers. At least
for no more than a moment or two.
Ach, what a fool. He did notice that—and more, like sounds of soft breath rushing
from her ripe mouth, the satiny skin at her nape. He could scarce do naught but notice.
“How did you come to fear the dark?” he asked, breaking the dangerous spell of silence
about them.
“You will think me foolish,” she demurred.
“No fear is foolish if it truly frightens you.”
Averyl bit her quivering lip, then drew in a deep breath. “I… When I was six years,
the MacDuffs lay siege to Abbotsford. M-my mother took me from my bed, up into one
of the towers for safety.” She clinched her hands in her lap and pressed her lips
together. “At-at the top, darkness abounded. A pair of rough hands wrenched me from
her grasp. I heard her scream…but could see naught.” After another shaky breath, she
pressed on. “Hours passed while I cried her name into the silence. Come morning, sunlight
revealed that she’d been
Similar Books
