Page 56 of The Highlander's Pirate Bride

She delivered a wry grin. “Aye. And then, once I go ashore at Canna and search fer me friends and me uncle, it will only be a short sail fer ye tae make it to the Isle of Barra.” She gave his forearm a brief squeeze. “D’ye think ye can sail her on yer own MacNeil? Or d’ye need me tae come along and help ye find yer way?” There was a quavering note in her usually confident tone that started him wondering if she shared something of how he was feeling.

“Aye, lass, ye’re welcome tae come wi’ me. I dinnae ken how tae manage a wee sailboat after all this time.” He laughed, covering his own note of uncertainty. Damn. He was starting to think leaving her behind was a very bad idea.

She laughed with him. “I’ll come wi’ ye, if ye truly need me alongside of ye.”

Was there a hint of wistfulness in her voice?

He lay back, his arms folded under his head. “Come. I like the feel of ye beside me, keeping me warm in this chill weather.”

She shuffled over and lay with him, snuggling close, her head on his chest.

“Aye. I could dae wi’ a lass tae keep me bed warm.”

She pshawed loudly. “I’m nay bed-warmer, Maxwell. If that’s all ye wish fer, then ye’d best look further than Aileen MacAlpin.”

He laughed at her feisty response, stroked her hand, and softly brushed the scars on her arm. “Nay. ‘Tis nae everything I wish fer.” His voice was suddenly husky and his pulse was pounding. A wild idea was forming, making his head whirl and his breath quicken.

“Oh?” She nudged his ribs with her elbow. “Then what else d’ye wish fer?”

“Mayhap I wish fer a lass who can call down the stars tae show her which way she should travel.”

He heard the breath hitch in her throat, and she ran a hand across his shoulder, lingering at the eagle’s wing wrapping his throat. “What else d’ye wish fer?”

“Ah. Let me think.” He paused, teasing her with a drawn-out silence. “Mayhap the lass I’m wishing fer… has hair that’s…”

She pinched his arm. “Hair that’s what?

“Ouch.” He laughed and stroked her hair back from her forehead. “Hair that’s red and gold, as bright as the sunset.”

“Hm. Anything else?” There was a smile in her voice.

“The one I’m wishing fer must be fierce and brave, but gentle too.”

She shook her head. “Ye’re wishing fer a lot.”

“Nay, lass. There’s more.”

She grunted disbelievingly.

“Mayhap the one I’m wishing fer is skilled at all the wifely arts.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed at that.

“Nae. I dinnae mean the wifely skills of cooking and sweeping, or embroidery and stitching.”

“Then what wifely arts d’ye mean?” She ran a finger slowly down his cheek bone and outlined his soft lips. “Surely ye dinnae mean the wifely arts of the bedchamber?”

“Mayhap I wish fer a lass who can kiss me so that I forget me own name and where in the world I am.” He laughed at the sound of her gasp. “A lass who’ll open her legs and welcome me inside her and it’ll feel like home. A lass who feels like velvet, with skin like silk and satin. A lass that’s hot and wet fer wanting me. A lass that calls out me name when the tide takes her tae bliss in me arms.”

She was laughing now. “D’ye ken such a lass? I dinnae believe there is such a lass alive.”

He bent his head and kissed the tip of her nose. “Well, ye’re wrong about that. There is such a lass. I’ve lain wi’ her and held her in me arms and I believe she’s exactly the one I’ve been wishing fer.”

“And where, pray tell, is this wondrous creature? Surely if she’s everything ye wish fer, she’d be by yer side.”

He laughed and seized her with both hands. “Before I answer yer question, tell me, Aileen MacAlpin, d’ye have a lad ye might wish fer.”

She shook her head as if she was considering this carefully. “Mayhap I dae?”

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