Page 36 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
Rhys didn’t answer. He backed away.
She is a sweet demon set in this place to give me a taste of hell… Trouble incarnate.
He’d brought her into his own home.
Trouble that kissed him like a secret and made his daughter squeal with laughter.
Rhys’s temples throbbed.
Why is she out there? Why was she not feelin’ well last night? What has been goin’ on under me roof without me say?
His fists curled again.
If the Murdochs didn’t kill him, this woman just might.
She shouldn’t be there.
Rhys paced the length of the study like a caged wolf, the edge of the map table brushing his hand with every turn. The image of her bare legs catching the sun, and her golden blonde hair bouncing behind her was seared into his vision. He blinked hard, but she didn’t leave him.
Out there with Daisy. With Nina. With Myles.
“What’s the movement from the west?” William asked, voice even but louder than before.
Rhys didn’t answer.
William bent over the map, tapping his dagger against the western ridge. “We could reposition the carts here, draw their scouts toward the glen. A feint.”
Rhys didn’t look.
“Or,” William said a little more forcefully, “we could wait a fortnight, test their supply lines first. Robert’s thinkin’ the Murdochs might run lean come next moon.”
Still nothin’.
William sighed and straightened, folding his arms. “Rhys?”
Rhys stopped pacing, jaw set like granite.
The man tilted his head. “Do ye wanna tell me what has yer cloak in a knot? Or shall I just keep throwin’ battle plans at the wall and hopin’ somethin’ sticks?”
Rhys dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled, slow and sharp. “She wassupposedto be in thelibrary.”
“With Myles, aye.”
“Aye. Itoldhim that she was meant to be readin’ dusty scrolls and stayin’ out of our way.”
William reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, she’s hardly wreckin’ the place. They were just playin’ with the lass.”
“Me daughter doesnae need her,” Rhys snapped.
William raised a brow and nodded slowly. “So, isthis,” he lifted a hand and gestured to the clearly frustrated laird in front of him, “about Miss Daisy… or Lady Amara, then?”
Rhys just heaved an exhale, and his eyes locked onto William’s.
He, however, didn’t flinch. “Ye have been colder than a stone floor since last night. Did I miss somethin’?”
Rhys turned his gaze to the window again, though the courtyard was now empty. They’d moved on, all of them had.
“She’s… unpredictable,” he muttered.
