Page 60 of The Highlander Who Loved Me

She needed to know, with certainty, that she could be intimate with a man.

Davina scurried down the stairs, one hand skimming the wall for balance, the other trembling so violently that the candle she held cast an eerie, jumping shadow along the corridor.

Saints preserve us, what I am doing?

She had deliberately waited until it was very late and the castle was asleep. Yet as she crept down the hall, the sensible side of her wanted to run back to her own chamber, bar the door, and hide in the bed, with the covers drawn over her head.

Davina’s footsteps slowed, but she did not stop, nor turn around. Her decision to be intimate with James seemed such an inspired idea, but the execution of such a plan was proving to be a test of her nerve and determination.

She tugged at the high neckline of her nightgown, feeling suffocated. This might very well be the most witless thing she had ever tried to do, but her desperation had grown to the point where action must be taken.

When she reached his chamber door, her body froze. The candle shook crazily as Davina stood there, searching for her courage.

Her chest felt so tight she was finding it difficult to breathe. Twice she nearly turned away, but then reached deep inside herself, gathered her courage, and flung open the door.

“James, I must speak with ye.”

Silence.

“James?”

Eyes pinned to the velvet hangings surrounding the bed, Davina moved forward. Was it possible that he hadn’t heard her enter? It seemed unlikely that he could sleep so soundly, but she did notice he had drunk more than his share of ale and whiskey during the long day of holiday celebration.

Walking softly on the balls of her feet, she made her way to the bed, listening for signs of life, yet there were no heavy breaths, no snores or grunts. Her trembling fingers slid down the length of soft bed curtains. Bowing her head, she snapped back the rich fabric.

Empty.

A nervous giggle escaped, followed by a longer laugh. All that irrational fear was for naught—James wasn’t even in the room. She slumped against the wall, then thumped her head back against it several times in frustration.

Was it a sign? A reprieve from her mad plan? Where could he be at this hour of the night? Sharing a bed with some willing lass? The possibility felt like a dirk straight through her heart. Her resolve wavered. Perhaps ’twas time to rethink her plan. If she slipped out of the chamber now, unseen, she could return to her room unscathed.

Yet nothing would be resolved.

She straightened her shoulders. She had come too far to retreat now. Heart pounding, Davina moved closer to the bed to wait for him.

Chapter Fourteen

Tired and out of sorts, James entered his bedchamber, surprised to find it bathed in the soft glow of dim candlelight. ’Twas odd that a servant would waste precious candles when no one occupied the chamber; then again, it seemed as though nearly everything since he returned home wasodd.

Or mayhap young Colin was responsible? That seemed a more likely explanation, given the lad’s lack of training, but James was in no mood to rouse the lad from sleep and scold him. That lecture could wait until morning.

As James waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, the hairs on the back of his neck itched with warning. He could feel a presence. Someone was in the chamber, hiding near the bed.

I’m being watched.

Muscles rigid, he slowly reached for the dirk secured in his belt. Light-footed, he moved forward, blinking with shock when he saw a woman leaning over his empty bed.

He took another step and the wooden floorboard creaked. The female straightened instantly, turning at the sound.

“Jesus, Davina, ye startled me!” Releasing a long breath, he threw the dirk on the table.

Her eyes widened. “Well, that was hardly the reaction that I had hoped to receive.”

“I thought ye were an intruder.” James willed his alert senses to calm, then narrowed his gaze. “Why are ye here?”

“Is it not obvious what a woman wants when she steals into a man’s bedchamber in the middle of the night,” she answered, her voice husky and low.

James drew back, feeling as though he’d just been kicked in the gut. Her words brought a violent surge of heat to his manhood. It was then he took full notice of her appearance. Dressed in a linen night rail of white, her braided hair cascading down the middle of her back, she was a vision of beauty and innocence.

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