Tangled Hearts by Heather McCollum Page B

Scottish court, and the English royalty is considered even more dangerous, especially to a Scot.”
    “I suppose any country is hostile to an outsider.” She stared at the twisting, snapping flames, remembering. So many ports, so many new faces, dirty, tired, lost. Her stomach knotted and she rubbed at an ache in her temple. The weight of it all pulled at her shoulders, making her costume feel nearly intolerable.
    “I suppose.” Ewan’s voice stilled her mind. He’d stepped close, yet he did not touch. “Ye’ve never had a land to call yer own. Nowhere where generations have survived and everyone knows ye.”
    She listened for the drawn out notes of pity within his words, but there were none. She turned, her skirts brushing his shins. “Perhaps not. Yet I always had a home, which many do not.”
    “Yer ship?”
    “The Queen Siren kept me, when others are traded into slavery.”
    Ewan’s brow pinched. She’d said too much, let her guard down, and wagged her tongue. Captain Bart would tie her to the mast for certain if she gave away their secret.
    “Does the Queen Siren trade people into slavery?”
    The flames snapped behind her. Ugh! How to answer? She acted on instinct rather than intelligence and stepped closer.
    “Why haven’t you kissed me tonight, warrior with the perfect ears?”
    His eyes widened the tiniest bit, muting the growing fury there. He touched one of his own ears and brought his hand up through his hair. “Ye cannot turn my attention.”
    “And you have not kissed me.”
    She stepped forward, her slipper coming down on his boot as she wrapped her hands behind his neck and brought his face down to hers with a gentle tug. The added height she gained by trodding on his toes helped. She’d give this Highlander one mind-numbing, thought-turning kiss. To keep the Queen Siren’s secret, of course.
    She met his lips, pressing her own against his warmth. Her heart thumped wildly and she slanted her head, giving him time to take over. Finally he moved his mouth over hers, without force yet firm. His hand came up to brush her cheek, tickling gooseflesh down her front. The warmth of his body pulled her to him. Her legs felt weak, but it didn’t matter because he held her, his strength surrounding her like the powerful currents of the sea.
    And she let him, relaxing into him, and her mind turned only to the kiss and the heat that flooded down through her body. Never before had she felt this flavor of flaming liquor, or the giddiness bubbling inside her chest, this churning of her stomach as she molded her softness to his hard body.
    She felt his hand running down her back to the heavy skirts as he murmured in Gaelic. She didn’t know the meaning but she agreed with the implication. Where was this wave taking her? She held onto Ewan and hoped she could keep her head above water.
    His tall frame bent around her and his hand cupped her face. His thumb strummed the sensitive skin over her cheekbone, and he pulled gently away. She kept her eyes closed. The absence of his lips made her frown, and she felt his thumb rub the lines on her forehead.
    “Not happy?” he asked.
    She opened her eyes. Her breath hitched for a moment at the concern on his face that melted into a half grin. Was he truly interested in her happiness? “Not happy that you stopped.”
    “One of us has to guard yer honor,” he said and it was his turn to frown.
    She reached up to rub his forehead. “Now you aren’t happy.”
    His gaze connected with hers, mesmerizing, almost shackling. So intent on reading her, she almost pulled away. “Where did ye learn to kiss?”
    She blinked, trying to understand the fierce intensity transforming him from soul-melting heat to lethal ice cold in the span of seconds.
    He inhaled fully, his chest expanding. “Who have ye kissed like that?”
    Had she done it wrong? “No one, not like that,” she whispered and the tip of her tongue slid out to touch her lower lip. It hadn’t felt wrong, not