Warrior of the Isles by Debbie Mazzuca Page A

wee Tess? When the Lowlanders were through with the lass, she was never the same.”
    â€œEnough, Gavin. Ride on ahead and have Beth prepare a bath fer her.”
    Once she heard the horses ride off, Syrena pushed the gray wool from her head. “What happened to Tess?” At least she knew now they thought the Lowlanders had been involved in her disappearance. If she asked some pertinent questions, she hoped to come up with a believable response when Aidan interrogated her later.
    He curled a big hand around her neck and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “ ’Tis no’ somethin’ ye need to ken, Syrena. I’ll no’ let those bloody Lowlanders near ye again.”
    She nuzzled her cheek against the coarse fabric of his shirt, smoothing her palm over the muscular planes of his chest. “Thank you,” she murmured.
    â€œYer thanks isna necessary. Ye’re under my protection until we find yer kin.”
    Unwilling to get caught in a lie, she decided to probe further. “Why did they take me?”
    He shrugged then looked down at her. “I suspect it was in retaliation for Lachlan’s raid. If ye hadna gotten away, they would’ve held ye fer ransom.”
    She plucked at the laces on his shirt, lowering her eyes from the intensity in his. “Would you have paid?”
    He tipped her chin, bringing her gaze back to his. “Aye, and if I didna have the coin they demanded, I would’ve found a way to steal ye back from them.”
    Considering the state of his home, she knew he did not have much coin. The thought he would use whatever he had to rescue her touched her heart. She wanted to show him the depth of her gratitude and decided to gift him with a portion of the coin she’d brought for Lachlan. She reached inside her gown, about to pull the black velvet bag from her bodice.
    Aidan frowned, pushing her hand aside. “Where is yer wound?” He traced his fingers along her chest.
    She tried to form some reasonable explanation, willing her brain to work, but desire, warm and liquid, coursed through her veins, leaving her thoughts scattered, and her body boneless.
    â€œSyrena?” The censure in his deep voice penetrated her muddled senses.
    â€œI don’t know,” she managed to say. “Perhaps the sun has colored my skin as it has yours. And the mark has simply—”
    â€œNay.” He hooked a finger in the neckline of her gown and lowered it, exposing the tops of her breasts.
    â€œAidan!” she gasped, but he ignored her.
    â€œNay, ye’re the same milky white here where the sun’s rays do not reach.” His voice was low and husky, and he trailed a calloused finger over her heated flesh.
    She shivered, the look in his eyes searing her as deeply as his touch.
    Under the scrutiny of his gaze, she attempted an unconcerned shrug. “It must not have been as deep as it first appeared.”
    His hand stilled and he frowned, then he dipped his fingers between the valley of her breasts. “What is this?” he asked, removing the velvet bag. The coin clinked when he swung the pouch from the tips of his fingers. The disapproval in his tone robbed her of her good intentions.
    â€œIt’s mine. You can’t have it.” She tried to retrieve the coin, but he held it out of her reach.
    He shifted her weight in his arms and opened the bag. His eyes widened. “Bloody hell, Syrena, who are ye?”

Chapter 6
    â€œEnough,” Aidan grated out when Syrena struggled to adjust the front of her gown. Her rounded behind rubbed against his straining erection, causing the dull throb in his trews to rival the ache in his head. An ache caused by the discovery of enough coin to ransom a king.
    He rubbed his hand over his eyes in order to gain some semblance of control over his burgeoning lust for the woman in his arms. The sight of her full breasts when he lowered her gown, and the memory of how warm and satiny