The Highlander's Sin by Eliza Knight Page A

to press her chest to his and feel that rumble. Why, she had no idea, and she certainly found it irritating.
    “I had a feeling we were being followed. Best to stay out of sight for a short while.”
    “Followed. Still?” She whirled, half expecting their little hiding spot to be stormed. Throughout their ride today she’d not heard anyone, seen anyone. How was it possible they’d been followed? She peeked outside, studying the forest but seeing no one.
    “Aye.”
    “By who? And won’t they see your horse?”
    Duncan shrugged and dumped more almonds into his hand. “I dinna know who, and if they see my horse, they will see that he is abandoned.”
    Heather gaped at him in disbelief. He sounded so mundane, as if they discussed the various colors of summer flowers and not the safety of his prized horse. “Surely they will steal him then.”
    “They can try.” A confident grin curled his lips.
    Heather put her hands on her hips. “What makes ye so confident?”
    “There are many reasons.”
    The man was exasperating. Heather stared hard at him, willing him to look away from the almonds in his palm. “Care to share them?”
    “Not particularly.” He glanced up at her briefly and then returned his attention to the almonds.
    “Arrogance is a sin.”
    “I, more than most, am well aware.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “A priest should not be arrogant.”
    Duncan looked up at her in earnest, but not for curiosity’s sake . She could see that in his eyes. The man was observing her, studying her reactions as much as he was studying her words. “Why not?”
    “Because ’tis a sin,” she said, exasperated.
    His eyes danced with merriment. “Not in my case.”
    “And what makes ye so special?”
    “We are all special in His eyes.”
    Heather grunted her disgust. Talking to the man was like dancing on a thin rope. One was easily swayed to fall any way the wind shifted.
    “Ye’re impossible.” She turned her back on him, glancing through the short walkway they’d traveled to get to this spot. It’d been scary, walking on the thin ledge and clutching the side of the mountain. The only other option had been to swim up to it, and neither of them had wanted to get wet. The same truth held for the return to shore.
    “That may be true, lass, but ye’re stuck with me all the same.”
    Heather didn’t know why, but his statement sent her from bordering on irritation to boiling rage. She whirled, and stalked toward him, kicking the sole of his boot. “Not of my own choosing.” Her voice didn’t echo but sounded strangely silent, the falls deadening her shout.
    Duncan tsk-tsked her. “Noise like that is likely to bring our guests knocking on our doorstep.” He didn’t make a move, simply stared up at her, his eyes hooded. “And likely to get yourself gagged.”
    She swallowed back her retort. That was the last thing she needed. Her vow to be good so he wouldn’t tie and gag her had slipped her mind when rage had taken over, but she allowed reason back in. Escape was her number one priority, and shouting at her captor was only going to annoy him. She didn’t need Duncan annoyed. She needed him relaxed. Too relaxed.
    “Have any m ore of that whisky?” she asked, adding some sweetness back into her tone.
    “Want to get me drunk?”
    Heather shook her head, forced her face into a docile expression—difficult since she was anything but passive. “Nay, Duncan.” She allowed his name to roll slowly off her tongue, hoping to entice him the way she had other men. “Just thirsty.”
    The change in him was immediate, and Heather forced herself to remain unchanged by it. He stood, eyes darkening as he studied her. No more care for his almonds. Oh, nay, all of his attention was on her.
    “What are ye up to?” He was suspicious . She wasn’t surprised.
    Heather gazed up at him through her lashes. “Nothing. I give up.”
    “Give up? Ye?”
    She nodded. “Now, i f ye would, the whisky please.” If