The Highlander's Lady by Eliza Knight Page A

bathe.”
    “And ye’re not likely to today.”
    He sighed deeply, and a might exaggeratingly. “Then I shall see if any other ladies in this tavern would oblige me.”
    “Ye’ll not have much luck finding another lady here , but if ye do, and she does, more power to ye.”
    Daniel chuckled as he left, the door clicking quietly behind him.
    Alone in the little chamber , Myra finally let her shoulders sag all the way, feeling the stretch from the base of her spine all the way up her neck. She shucked out of her cloak, gown and chemise, tore off her boots and hose, wishing for a hearth so she could burn the soiled garments. The brazier was just not large enough. The strip of fabric that had bound their hands lay beside her boots. She picked it up, rubbing her thumb over it, surprised at its softness. Had to be Sutherland wool.
    Gooseflesh covered her and she was suddenly aware of how naked and vulnerable she was. She tossed the strip into the brazier. There’s was not a marriage in truth. T hough she was alone, she crossed her arms over her breasts and hopped over to the tub, not liking the frigid temperature of the floor on her feet.
    “Zounds!” she screeched as her toes touched the cold water. ’Twas not in the least bit warm.
    Myra clenched her jaw tight . Sitting was not an option. She’d stand , preferring to get her bath over with as quick as possible. She scrubbed furiously, dunked her hair and scrubbed some more. By the time she was finished—perhaps five minutes l ater—her teeth chattered, her fingernails were blue and she was so prickly from cold she looked like a trussed up goose.
    Myra jumped from the tub, grabbed the linen towel which by luck had been set to warm beside the brazier. She wrapped herself up in the warm fabric, feeling the heat seep into her bones.
    But it was soon gone as the cold turned her hair into what felt like icicles. She towe le d her hair as dry as she could, then tossed on the chemise. The fabric was tight over her breasts and hips. She tried to stretch it out, but it did little. She’d have to deal with what she had , for now. Soon she’d be back at Foulis—her handfast null and void .
    Daniel’s tempting kisses a distant memory.

Chapter Eight

     
    W atching other men drink until they slurred their words was not as much fun as actually joining in.
    Daniel glared over the boisterous tavern. Even his own men had imbibed in more than usual . They played cards, gambling with the locals and flirting with the tavern wenches. The place reeked of dirty sex—literally filthy —stale ale, vomit and burnt meat.
    But being down here in the corner, feet up on the table in front of him, hands steepled before his frown, was better than being upstairs where Myra bathed. Completely naked.
    As it was, he couldn’t stop imagining what her lush curves would look like. When he’d kissed her earlier in the day he’d gotten just the barest hint of plush, perky breasts and hips that were the perfect size for grabbing onto in the heat of passion.
    Dam n . He didn’t want to be thinking about that. His cock tripled in size. Thank the saints no one could see how hot he was for his wife . Ballocks, wife ! He’d not wanted a wife at least until spring… This was supposed to be his time to revel in being a bachelor. One last hurrah before he tied the knot—and yet he’d already wrapped his cloth around her tiny hands. Hands he couldn’t stop imagining rubbing over his bare chest, gripping his—
    No doubt, his men were wondering what he was doing down here in the tavern rather than up in the rented chamber ravaging his wife.
    He was wondering the same thing.
    But it wasn’t as simple as that. Myra didn’t realize who he was . When she hadn’t recognized him he’d kept his clan name silent . If she knew he was the man she’d dismissed a few years prior, she wou ld never have agreed to the handfast. The question was, would he have relented ?
    Nay. Never.
    The moment he’d laid eyes on