Wicked Highlander by Donna Grant Page B

on the hard rock beneath him, he had slumbered like he was in a feather bed. And it was all because of Marcail.
    Somehow being around the Druid relaxed him as well as bringing him desire unlike he had ever known. It took everything he had not to ground his aching rod into her leg. It would be so simple to turn her onto her back and cover her body with his.
    Holly Hell.
    He needed to keep his distance from Marcail before he gave in to this yearning that consumed him. And though every fiber of his being told him to get up, he couldn’t.
    Marcail trusted him, a Warrior, with her life. She molded her body to his for warmth and safety as she slept. That meant more to him than anything she could have done. His own wife hadn’t trusted him that way, a wife who had known him for nearly his entire life.
    Marcail had known him for such a short time. What was the difference? Why did Marcail understand him when Elspeth had not?
    Quinn smoothed the braids that had fallen in Marcail’s face as she’d slept. She blinked and opened her eyes. For a heartbeat she didn’t move. Then she tilted her face to his.
    â€œI would say good morn, but I’m not sure what time of day it is.”
    He smiled. “We usually get bread in the mornings, and since there is some waiting for us, I think it’s safe to say good morn.”
    â€œYou kept me warm while I slept.”
    Quinn glanced away. “You were freezing. I had no blanket to offer. Only myself.”
    â€œThank you,” she whispered.
    â€œIt was my pleasure.” And he meant every word.
    With a shy grin, Marcail rose and moved to the water behind Quinn’s head. He sat up and tracked her with his eyes. Just as on the previous morning, she drank her fill before splashing water on her face and neck.
    Quinn reached for the bread to break it in half when he saw three other pieces beside it. He glanced at his men. He hadn’t asked, or expected, them to share their food with Marcail, yet they had. He gave them a nod of thanks before tearing off a piece of his to add to the pile.
    When Marcail walked back to him and saw the bread she shook her head with a smile. “You and your men?”
    â€œWe want to make sure you’re fed.”
    â€œI don’t need all of this.”
    Quinn stopped her with a hand on her arm before she could give the bread back. “If you return the bread, you will offend them. I didna ask them to share with you. They’ve done it on their own.”
    â€œI see,” she said. “I’m…touched.”
    â€œYou are one to be protected, Marcail. And not just because you are a Druid. You’re a woman first and foremost.”
    She laughed. “Weak, you mean.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant at all. As men, we are raised to protect women and children, to give our lives if necessary. It is what a Highlander is.”
    Marcail tore off a piece of bread and squished it between her fingers. “Things were different in my village.The men did look out for the women and children, but not as you say. My father gave his life for us, but I would not expect any other man to die for me.”
    â€œThen you obviously haven’t encountered a true Highlander.”
    Her smile warmed his heart.
    â€œSo it seems, Quinn MacLeod. You are the first Highlander I’ve met, and I must say, I’m duly impressed.”

Eleven
    Quinn didn’t know what to think of the warm feeling in his chest at waking up with Marcail in his arms. The way she looked at him, so open and honest, and the way she spoke to him, as if she didn’t fear him, only made him want to be around her more.
    He loved to see her many smiles, from her shy grins to the open-mouthed smiles that lit her up from the inside out.
    They talked nonsense through their meal, and it had been too easy, too comfortable to suit Quinn. He was used to rarely speaking to anyone about anything. Hell, half the time he didn’t even eat