Page 37 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

“I mean, what were ye doin’ in Thorsten’s room?”

“I-I just wanted tae see what he looks like when he’s asleep,” she admitted. “I meant nae harm. I was careful nae tae wake him.”

“Ye should have waited and asked me permission first.”

“Tae see me own son?”

“Aye,” he whispered harshly. “Ye cannae just come here and go swannin’ about the place as ye like.”

She bristled. “I wouldnae expect tae. I’m sorry if I’ve upset ye. I’ll make sure tae ask yer permission in future. Or perhaps I should ask Muriel.” She knew she should not have brought the name up, and she could not keep the sarcasm from her voice.

But with him standing there in the pool of orange candlelight, his shirt open, showing the strong column of his throat and a good portion of his broad, tattooed chest with its covering of springy, golden hair which she used to love to run her fingers through, her jealousy flared up again.

“What?” His face creased up in puzzlement.

“Muriel. Ye and her seem very close. I suppose she suits ye very well, does she?”

“What the hell are ye on about? What has Muriel got tae dae with anythin’?

“Ach, naethin’,” she hissed, regretting her lack of self-control. “Let me go, please,” she hissed, pulling her arm from his grip and going to open her door. The candle flicked and sent shadows dancing wildly across the walls and ceilings. To her shock, he suddenly spun her around and pinned her to the wall, his arms blocking her escape.

The entire length of his body was pressed against hers, sending waves of heat up and down her. His warm, whisky scented breath tickled her cheek as he looked down upon her and breathed, “Why, what’s wrong, Raven? Are ye jealous of Muriel, is that it?”

She scoffed. “Dinnae be so ridiculous, of course I’m nae. That would mean I care about ye, which I dinnae!” His musky scent was drifting up her nostrils and turning her insides to water.

“Then why mention it?” He was dangerously close, his lips only a few inches away from hers. She started to feel dizzy. Her whole body was being pulled into his as if by some invisible force she could not combat and part of her did not wish to.

“I dinnae feel very well. Let me go tae me room,” she pleaded, starting to panic at the effect he was having on her. She felt that at any moment, she would lose control.

He moved away abruptly, and she breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with a tinge of regret, putting hand on the latch of her door.

“I came tae ask ye if ye’d like tae come out with me and Thorsten tomorrow. I ken a place he loves. I thought we could go there, and ye could spend some time gettin’ better acquainted with him. But now I’m havin’ second thoughts.”

In her surprise, Raven instantly forgot what had just passed between them. “Please, Arne, let me come. I promise I’ll dae anythin’ ye want. Just let me come tomorrow,” she begged him.

He stared at her, his eyes dark pools. At last, he said, “All right. But remember what ye just said. We’ll go after in the afternoon. I’ll come and find ye.”

“Thank ye, Arne. I’m truly grateful. Good night,” she said, feeling elated as she went inside her chamber and shut the door. It was only a few minutes later as she was climbing back into bed that her words came back to her, and her heart beat a little faster:“I’ll dae anything ye want.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

What the hell dae I think I’m playin’ at?

That was the question Arne was asking himself as he left Raven and went back to his chamber.

He had been dozing on and off in his room for a few hours, but proper sleep had eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Raven. When he opened them, he saw Raven. Raven. He thought the name suited her. With her long, pitch-black tresses it seemed more her than Maeve. And yet it was Maeve he had fallen for.

But they were the same woman.

He had thought about what Haldor had said to him earlier, about encouraging Raven and Thorsten to spend time together. He had come up with what he thought was a good suggestion, one he knew Thorsten would love. Secretly, it warmed his heart to know how thrilled Raven would be by the offer, and he had intended to tell her in the morning. But when had heard someone creeping about in the hall, with all the recent talk of danger, he had gone out quietly to find out who it was.

When he had surprised her in the hallway sneaking from Thorsten’s room, and she had turned around, she had looked so ethereally beautiful, it had taken his breath away. He had not really cared about her going in to see Thorsten sleeping, but the only shield he had against the attraction he felt for her was anger, so he had fallen back on that.

But all the time they were arguing in whispers, he had been drinking her in. She had looked so small and delicate, wrapped in a thin robe of red wool. The color matched her lips. She smelled clean and fresh, and he realized she must have washed her hair. Still damp, it flowed, an inky river, down her back and over her shoulders, all the way down to her slender waist. The sight had sparked his excitement.

Visions of the past had crowded into his mind as he had looked at her in the candlelight. He knew exactly what was beneath that robe, and he wanted it badly, or at least, his body did. It seemed to be driving him, and with her, he had very little control. Out in the hallway, he had toyed with simply giving in, picking her up, and taking her to his room. He pictured throwing her down on the bed and tearing off that robe. Would she scream? Or would she smile and beckon him closer as she used to do?

In the end, he had been forced to let her go. His state of arousal from having her captive, pinned against the wall, at his mercy, had been becoming too obvious. He had been on the verge of kissing her too. But something inside him still baulked at letting her know how much he still desired her. That was why, in the end, he had made himself let her go.

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