kisses shared weeks earlier came to her mind, and as she gazed at him, she could almost feel his hands upon her again. An urge to be in his arms again, to experience not only the kisses but the passion and the cherishing that had been part of them, made her breath deepen, made her yearn.
Love, the thought came to her then: Love feels like this.
She saw him tilt his head in question at her silence. “What—where shall I sleep, sir?” she asked hastily.
“You may have your pick of the guest rooms.” Holding the lantern, he led the way, taking her arm to escort her. A thrill went through her like small lightning. He had a restrained masculine power, tempered by courtesy and an inner control that she found compelling. She walked beside him, limping a little, her heart pounding.
The wolfhound rose from his place to nudge between them, setting Elspeth off balance so that she stumbled against Struan and set a hand on his chest. He caught her with a hand to her arm. The plaid slid from her shoulders, and he caught it, and for a moment she looked into his eyes, very blue in the low light. Through his clothing, his heartbeat under her hand felt strong and hard.
“You’ve made a friend in Osgar.” He smiled as she stepped back.
“His breed are called fairy hounds. They take readily to those with fairy blood. They are true to their kind—though he seems to have taken to you,” she said, as Struan reached down to pet the dog. “Do you have a trace of fairy heritage?”
“I was about to ask the same of you, since he likes you so well.”
“Oh,” she said, shrugging. “We have some legends in the family, like many Highland clans. My grandfather likes to say that my mother…had fairy blood.”
“I could see that in you…in your eyes. Beautiful,” he murmured, and reached up to brush back her hair where it had sifted over her cheek. Every partof her felt aware of his touch; wonderful shivers went through her body. He dropped his hand away. “But of course such things are not possible.”
“I’m surprised that you acknowledge any claim to fairy ancestry, as much as you disdain such things.”
“The legend exists. I did not say I believed it,” he said. “Family lore holds that long ago, a MacCarran ancestor saved a fairy woman from drowning, and they were married. Her blood runs through all who are connected to the main branch, including myself and my siblings. They even claim that some MacCarrans have strange abilities because of this mythical ancestor,” he added with a little twist of his mouth. “Come along, you lot,” he called to the dogs. As they trotted around his heels, he took Elspeth gently by the arm and helped her up the stairs.
“Saved a fairy woman?” Elspeth asked with interest.
“Charming Highland hogwash,” he said.
Chapter 7
“T here are guest rooms on this level,” James said as they walked along the upper corridor. “And the next floor up, but you do not need to climb more stairs just now.”
He liked the pressure of her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow as she limped beside him. He understood, having lived with an injured limb for years, the concessions needed, and he was glad to offer support. But his body responded with an intimate tightening each time she changed the position of her hand, or leaned toward him a little. The feeling was strong and best ignored.
He would show her to a guest room and in the morning, drive her home. Between then and now were too many hours filled with temptation. But he would not take advantage of the circumstances, even if she wanted that—and had boldly stated so.
“All the rooms have been freshened for use,” he said. “Mrs. MacKimmie set the housemaids to it, since some guests are expected next week.”
“And I am unexpected,” she said.
“Quite.” He opened a door and stood back. The lantern light spilled into the room.
She stepped inside. “I’ll need to light the fire—the hearth is cold.”
“Let me.” James
Love, the thought came to her then: Love feels like this.
She saw him tilt his head in question at her silence. “What—where shall I sleep, sir?” she asked hastily.
“You may have your pick of the guest rooms.” Holding the lantern, he led the way, taking her arm to escort her. A thrill went through her like small lightning. He had a restrained masculine power, tempered by courtesy and an inner control that she found compelling. She walked beside him, limping a little, her heart pounding.
The wolfhound rose from his place to nudge between them, setting Elspeth off balance so that she stumbled against Struan and set a hand on his chest. He caught her with a hand to her arm. The plaid slid from her shoulders, and he caught it, and for a moment she looked into his eyes, very blue in the low light. Through his clothing, his heartbeat under her hand felt strong and hard.
“You’ve made a friend in Osgar.” He smiled as she stepped back.
“His breed are called fairy hounds. They take readily to those with fairy blood. They are true to their kind—though he seems to have taken to you,” she said, as Struan reached down to pet the dog. “Do you have a trace of fairy heritage?”
“I was about to ask the same of you, since he likes you so well.”
“Oh,” she said, shrugging. “We have some legends in the family, like many Highland clans. My grandfather likes to say that my mother…had fairy blood.”
“I could see that in you…in your eyes. Beautiful,” he murmured, and reached up to brush back her hair where it had sifted over her cheek. Every partof her felt aware of his touch; wonderful shivers went through her body. He dropped his hand away. “But of course such things are not possible.”
“I’m surprised that you acknowledge any claim to fairy ancestry, as much as you disdain such things.”
“The legend exists. I did not say I believed it,” he said. “Family lore holds that long ago, a MacCarran ancestor saved a fairy woman from drowning, and they were married. Her blood runs through all who are connected to the main branch, including myself and my siblings. They even claim that some MacCarrans have strange abilities because of this mythical ancestor,” he added with a little twist of his mouth. “Come along, you lot,” he called to the dogs. As they trotted around his heels, he took Elspeth gently by the arm and helped her up the stairs.
“Saved a fairy woman?” Elspeth asked with interest.
“Charming Highland hogwash,” he said.
Chapter 7
“T here are guest rooms on this level,” James said as they walked along the upper corridor. “And the next floor up, but you do not need to climb more stairs just now.”
He liked the pressure of her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow as she limped beside him. He understood, having lived with an injured limb for years, the concessions needed, and he was glad to offer support. But his body responded with an intimate tightening each time she changed the position of her hand, or leaned toward him a little. The feeling was strong and best ignored.
He would show her to a guest room and in the morning, drive her home. Between then and now were too many hours filled with temptation. But he would not take advantage of the circumstances, even if she wanted that—and had boldly stated so.
“All the rooms have been freshened for use,” he said. “Mrs. MacKimmie set the housemaids to it, since some guests are expected next week.”
“And I am unexpected,” she said.
“Quite.” He opened a door and stood back. The lantern light spilled into the room.
She stepped inside. “I’ll need to light the fire—the hearth is cold.”
“Let me.” James
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