Page 20 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

He leaned over and in one wicked move he took her king. “Checkmate.” He shook his head, unable to resist a triumphant grin. “Now ye cannae tell me I am letting ye win.”

She groaned. “Och. Ye dinnae play fair, MacNeil.”

“Now, now, lass.” He assumed the air of a stern schoolmaster, restraining his laughter. “If ye’re tae play chess, ye must learn tae lose without blaming yer partner fer nae playing fair.”

She huffed indignantly, glowering at him across the table. “And I suppose ye’ll be demanding a reward fer yer skill?

“Aye, that I will.” He was sorely tempted to demand a kiss as his reward but decided on the next best thing. “Since ye’ll nae grant me me freedom, I’ll have more of that French claret we shared before the storm, if ye’ll drink along wi’ me.”

After giving a reluctant nod, she returned his grin. “I could dae wi’ a wee drop of the claret, now ye mention it.” She opened the cabinet and reached up to the shelf for the carafe, which was still half full of the ruby liquid, and took down their two pots.

“Here.” She handed his wine over and before taking a sip, they raised their mugs in salute. “Slàinte Mhath. Here’s tae our next game, when I’ll leave ye gasping in me wake like an old worn-out coracle about tae sink.” She took a long draught, giving him a mischievous glance. “’Tis indeed a fine drop.”

Mayhap the wine loosened her tongue, but she was more inclined to talk than he’d seen her before and her charming smiles came readily for a change.

They talked a little about their homes, and she spoke of life on the Isle of Canna, where she had spent her childhood among pirates. Like most of the islanders, he was aware of the stories and legends surrounding the ‘Pirate Isle’ and the danger fer any ships passing too close.

He told her a little about his sister, Raven, and the sweet wean she’d been forced to abandon, and how her return had brought so much happiness to Arne MacLeod, her husband.

Aileen did not miss a word. “And, tell me, MacNeil.” She brushed a fly-away strand of shining hair behind her ear. “D’ye have a sweetheart waiting fer ye back in Barra?”

He studied her, trying to gauge what was behind her question. Was it possible she cared whether he was wed or nae? She’d made it clear that she was behest to Andrew Sutherland, so her words took him by surprise.

“Nay, there’s nay lass missing me in her cold bed this night.” He turned to face her and meet her gaze full-on. “And what of ye? Is the Laird Sutherland lying cold and alone in his bed waiting fer ye tae return tae his loving arms?”

The color fled from her face and for an instant he thought she would fling the contents of her mug over him. Instead, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and gulped what wine remained.

“Touché, MacNeil. I shouldnae have asked ye such a question. ‘Tis nae business of mine who shares yer bed. Just as what ye asked me is nay business of yers.”

“I will take that as aye, Sutherland is yer man.”

She tossed her head and her wild hair flew around her face in a halo of gold and copper. Her eyes darkened. “Ye are wrong. Nay man belongs tae me and I belong tae nae man. Ye may mark that. I will kiss who I will.”

Her green eyes flashing fire, she leaned across the table, cupped his chin in her two hands, and kissed him fair on the lips. He drew back. This was not a kiss of passion but a statement of independence.

Unable to fathom why her kiss cut like a blade to his heart, Maxwell rose to his feet. “Methinks we are done fer this night. Another time we may meet over this board and ye’ll find a way tae best me.”

He bent her a courtly bow and took two strides toward the door. “I bid ye goodnight, Captain Aileen.”

Aileen was on her feet in in instant. “Nay. Nay, MacNeil. I wish ye tae stay here this night.”

He turned to her, eyes narrowed, waiting. There was some satisfaction in seeing her so flustered.

“Perhaps I acted rashly. I’ve offended ye and fer that I beg yer pardon.”

“Aye, lass. Ye offended me. I dinnae wish fer kisses given in temper or disdain. If ye kiss me again, I pray it be with passion that comes from yer heart.”

Her cheeks flushed pink and she dropped her gaze for a moment. When she raised her eyes, they were as clear and green as glass.

At least she has the grace tae look abashed.

“I invite ye tae stay this night.” She gestured to the space on the floor where he’d slept before. Then she took down the pillow and rug from the shelf behind the curtain. “‘Tis warmer in here than out.”

Taking the pillow she offered, he issued a sighed. “Aye. Ye’re right. On a night like this it would nae take much tae wake up frozen tae death.”

She gave a throaty chuckle and the air between them grew more companionable and mellow at once. He settled on the floor, wrapped himself in his thick woolen cloak, curled under the old plaid rug and did his best to make himself comfortable.

“I wish ye goodnight, lass.”

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