Page 12 of Highlander Redeemed
“You should thank Scotia, she—” But before he could get the words out Ceit threw a doubting look at Scotia, then quickly looked away, once more shunning Scotia as Ceit rejoined her friends who stood down the slope a little way, and hurried back toward the caves.
As Duncan said her name, Scotia had felt a blush of pride start. He was trying to give credit to her, but the look on Ceit’s face quelled any pride she might deign to feel and replaced it with anger.
“Of all the ungrateful—” She stopped, not sure what to call the woman.
“I am sure she wants to get Maisie to Jeanette to make sure there is nothing more than scratches and a bump on her head to worry over.” He looked back at Scotia. “I shall make sure they ken ’twas you who found the wee thing, not me.”
“Nay.” She felt her nails bite into her palms and was oddly happy for the physical pain to distract her from the less visible hurt the woman had dealt her. “They will not believe I found her, not even coming from you. We found the scamp—”
“Youfound her,” he said, stepping close enough to take her shoulders in his big hands. Scotia was so startled by the comforting weight of his hands, she did not shrug them off. “And now there is time for me to ask how you knew where we would find her.”
“How?” His question startled her out of both her pique and the distraction of his touch. “I—” How did she ken where to find the child? “I just knew. I said her name, and I knew.”
Duncan let his hands slide down her arms, leaving a trail of pleasant tingles in their wake. “You just knew?”
“Aye.” She looked up at him, as she mulled over the sequence of events. “I just knew. It was suddenly there, in my head, almost like someone whispered it to me, but I did not hear a voice,” sheadded quickly, not wanting him to think she was going daft. “I justknew.”
His brow furrowed, and she searched his deep brown eyes for any trace of doubt. But there was none, only that look of complete concentration that came over him when he was pondering something he did not understand. He and Jeanette shared that expression.
“Has it happened before, this knowing?”
“Aye. Do you not ken things in this way?”
“Nay. What other things have youknown?”
“Iknewwe were needed back at the caves. ’Tis also how I knew ...”
She looked down, damning the man for making her forget that she wanted no one to know her greatest shame, and berating herself for telling him anything about the strange knowings. She let anger wrap around her, obliterating any softness Duncan’s nearness had created. She felt his finger under her chin as he urged her to look back up at him.
“What, lass?” His voice was soft. He did not move his finger from her chin, forcing her to look deeply into his eyes. “You can tell me. Whatever it is ’twill go no further.”
But she couldn’t. She could not bear to even speak the words. She wrenched free of his touch and fled.
DUNCAN STARED AFTERthe rapidly disappearing Scotia, dumbfounded. The lass always, always stood her ground, fighting with cutting words and looks sharp enough to cut the strongest warrior to his knees, fighting with every bit of passion and skill she brought to her training with stick and targe.
But this time she didn’t. This time she fled.
He drummed his fingers against his thighs, trying to figure out what had happened. What had he said? She was opening up to him, telling him of this amazing skill she had kept secret even from him. She had been about to tell him of another knowing ... but instead she had run from him, or from whatever she had been about to say.
Scotia never ran.
Duncan scrambled down the steep ben as quickly as he dared, worry tangling his guts. If Scotia ran, she wasn’t thinking, just reacting, and that was never good for anyone, but especially not for Scotia. There was no telling what the lass might do if she let her emotions get the best of her. And ’twas Duncan’s task to keep her safe, even from herself.
As soon as he hit the relatively flat trail, he checked to see which direction she had taken—away from the caves—and took off after her. It was only another minute or two before he caught up with her, grabbing her arm and spinning her to a stop.
“Release me!” She struggled to get free of his grip, but he was ready for her this time.
“Nay, not until you tell me what is wrong.”
She swung at him, and relief swept through him. This was the Scotia he knew. He blocked her hand, locking his around her wrist and pulling her against his chest. She kicked him in the shin, and he switched his hold, wrapping both arms around her, one around her shoulders, the other around her waist, so she could not get far enough away to kick him again.
“Nothing. Is. Wrong.” Each word was emphasized by a wiggling attempt to free herself. She narrowed her eyes and glared up at him. “Let me go, you—”
Now it was Duncan who didn’t think. He silenced her with his lips.
CHAPTER SIX
SHOCK FROZESCOTIAthe moment Duncan’s lips met hers. Their eyes met. The battle enjoined. It wasn’t a soft kiss, not a tentative first kiss, not a passion-filled kiss between lovers, but a kiss meant to control, a kiss meant to stop her from telling him exactly what she thought of him. A kiss meant to distract her from ...
