When a Laird Takes a Lady: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel by Rowan Keats Page A
Book: When a Laird Takes a Lady: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel by Rowan Keats
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Authors: Rowan Keats
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did not allow her to depart. Instead, he swept her off her feet, carried her across the room, and tossed her onto the mattress.No bed frame here, either. But there was a wealth of blankets and furs, and the mattress was stuffed with feathers not straw. Despite the comforts, Isabail immediately rolled, intent on fleeing.
She didn’t get far.
MacCurran followed her onto the mattress, and his arm latched around her waist.
Isabail shrieked. Heart pounding in her chest, she flailed in a desperate attempt to get free. But her efforts were for naught. His arm was a steel band. He tugged her back against his body, his hold ruthless and uncompromising. One leg over hers, and she was effectively trapped.
“Sleep,” he said gruffly.
Isabail lay there, wide-eyed and uncertain. No rape, no beating. Just slow, deep breaths and a firm hold. What should she do? His large body was curled around hers, his heat seeping through her shift. She could continue to struggle, but judging from her lack of success thus far, the chances of breaking free appeared small. She could scream, but who would come running? Or, she could wait for him to fall asleep.
“I sleep with one eye open,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ll fetch you back if you attempt to leave.”
Those words should have frightened her. They labeled her a prisoner. Instead, his lazy voice settled her frantic heartbeat.
She studied the arm hooked around her waist. Roped with well-defined sinews and covered in a sprinkle of crisp hairs, it was as much a weapon asthe man’s fine sword. If he accosted her in the middle of the night, could she rely on him to be as honorable as he’d promised to be? To release her at a push of her hand and roll away? Or was she a fool to place her faith in him?
It hardly seemed possible that her heart could have softened so quickly for this man.
Two days ago, she’d been convinced he’d killed her brother and a host of other people. What was it about him that convinced her he was trustworthy? Was it his story of a man in black? The fact that he had a brother and a mother? The adoring faces of his kinsmen? Really, even utter cads had family.
Isabail sighed heavily.
Nay, it was none of those things. It was this. The warmth and the steadiness. The feeling that as long as she remained in his arms, she was safe. He’d held her precisely this way the entire journey from Lochurkie, never failing her. Never taking advantage.
She closed her eyes.
She’d fallen asleep once before in his arms. She could surely do it again.
* * *
Aiden awoke.
He stared at the thatching, wondering what had stirred him from his sleep. But the hut and the rest of the ruined broch were silent—only the faint crackle of coals in the brazier broke the midnight calm. The soft scent of Isabail Grant filled his nose, and he tightened his arms, drawing her closer. Ashe did so, her feet came in contact with his shins, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
Ye gods
.
Her feet were like icicles. She was curled up in his arms like a wee pine martin in its nest, but without a blanket, she couldn’t stay warm. He was a fool. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Gently easing away from her, he sat up and snatched several blankets from the end of the bed. He tucked them around her, making certain every inch of flesh was covered. Then, cradling her weight, he lay back on the mattress.
He’d fully intended to enact his plan to seduce her tonight. Bribe her with food, heat her blood with kisses, and then coax the names from her lips. But he hadn’t expected her to look so goddamned beautiful with her hair unbound. Or to enjoy his fingers threading through her silvery tresses. The way she’d closed her eyes and given up a soft sigh had nearly unmanned him. Truly, she’d had him as tongue-tied as a wee lad.
And then she had refused the food.
Stubborn vixen.
He rolled to his side, hugging Isabail close and doing his best to warm her chilled extremities. She made a soft mewl of
She didn’t get far.
MacCurran followed her onto the mattress, and his arm latched around her waist.
Isabail shrieked. Heart pounding in her chest, she flailed in a desperate attempt to get free. But her efforts were for naught. His arm was a steel band. He tugged her back against his body, his hold ruthless and uncompromising. One leg over hers, and she was effectively trapped.
“Sleep,” he said gruffly.
Isabail lay there, wide-eyed and uncertain. No rape, no beating. Just slow, deep breaths and a firm hold. What should she do? His large body was curled around hers, his heat seeping through her shift. She could continue to struggle, but judging from her lack of success thus far, the chances of breaking free appeared small. She could scream, but who would come running? Or, she could wait for him to fall asleep.
“I sleep with one eye open,” he murmured into her hair. “I’ll fetch you back if you attempt to leave.”
Those words should have frightened her. They labeled her a prisoner. Instead, his lazy voice settled her frantic heartbeat.
She studied the arm hooked around her waist. Roped with well-defined sinews and covered in a sprinkle of crisp hairs, it was as much a weapon asthe man’s fine sword. If he accosted her in the middle of the night, could she rely on him to be as honorable as he’d promised to be? To release her at a push of her hand and roll away? Or was she a fool to place her faith in him?
It hardly seemed possible that her heart could have softened so quickly for this man.
Two days ago, she’d been convinced he’d killed her brother and a host of other people. What was it about him that convinced her he was trustworthy? Was it his story of a man in black? The fact that he had a brother and a mother? The adoring faces of his kinsmen? Really, even utter cads had family.
Isabail sighed heavily.
Nay, it was none of those things. It was this. The warmth and the steadiness. The feeling that as long as she remained in his arms, she was safe. He’d held her precisely this way the entire journey from Lochurkie, never failing her. Never taking advantage.
She closed her eyes.
She’d fallen asleep once before in his arms. She could surely do it again.
* * *
Aiden awoke.
He stared at the thatching, wondering what had stirred him from his sleep. But the hut and the rest of the ruined broch were silent—only the faint crackle of coals in the brazier broke the midnight calm. The soft scent of Isabail Grant filled his nose, and he tightened his arms, drawing her closer. Ashe did so, her feet came in contact with his shins, and he sucked in a sharp breath.
Ye gods
.
Her feet were like icicles. She was curled up in his arms like a wee pine martin in its nest, but without a blanket, she couldn’t stay warm. He was a fool. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Gently easing away from her, he sat up and snatched several blankets from the end of the bed. He tucked them around her, making certain every inch of flesh was covered. Then, cradling her weight, he lay back on the mattress.
He’d fully intended to enact his plan to seduce her tonight. Bribe her with food, heat her blood with kisses, and then coax the names from her lips. But he hadn’t expected her to look so goddamned beautiful with her hair unbound. Or to enjoy his fingers threading through her silvery tresses. The way she’d closed her eyes and given up a soft sigh had nearly unmanned him. Truly, she’d had him as tongue-tied as a wee lad.
And then she had refused the food.
Stubborn vixen.
He rolled to his side, hugging Isabail close and doing his best to warm her chilled extremities. She made a soft mewl of
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