Page 11 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
“Prove yerself how?” She gave him a questioning look. He pressed a very gentle hand to her head and guided her toward his chest, and she did not even protest, which made him grin. She was exhausted, and rightly so. “Tell me what ye meant,” she said, fairly slumping into him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and tell her to let sleep overcome her, but he suspected that would make her fight it even harder.
“Well, I must show myself worthy of my place in the MacLeod clan.”
She frowned. “Why? Do they nae ken yer worth? Must ye continually show it?”
He gave a resolute nod. “Aye, I must.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. That is surely exhausting, and it means we are foes…”
“We are nae adversaries, lass. I wish to aid ye, if I can.”
“If ye say so,” she murmured.
He held very still, feeling her body becoming heavier against his. After a few minutes, her breathing grew deep and her head lolled forward. Broch adjusted her as carefully as he could so that he was bearing her weight. When she snuggled into him with a contented sigh, a shaft of longing pierced him. He’d spent most of his life working to prove himself, to feel as though he belonged in the MacLeod clan, and in doing so, he’d not had time to think truly of finding a lass he wished to wed, nor of starting a family of his own. But here was a lass who seemed a most tempting prospect—except she was to wed another. Unless the king changed his mind…
Broch dismissed the thought immediately. It was dangerous to allow such a notion in his head, for if it did not come to pass and he succumbed to her charms, he’d find himself in a dangerous coil. There would be nothing more shameful nor perilous to all that Broch had striven to accomplish than directly disobeying King David’s orders.
Five
Katreine awoke to alternate sensations of pain and comfort. Confusion filled her mind, and as she slowly opened her eyes and realized she was cuddled against Broch’s side as he slept, she bit her lip and carefully started to extract herself from his solid, too-enticing embrace. She lifted her hand from the top of his very chiseled chest and his eyes snapped open.
He turned his head to look at her. “Good morning.” His voice held a deep rumble that made her stomach tighten. God, this man had an unusual effect on her.
“Do ye always awake so easily?” Embarrassment for shamelessly entangling herself in his warm embrace all night long singed her cheeks. She scooted away from him, but as she did, sharp pain shot from her wound up her leg and then down it. It felt as if she’d stuck it in a fire. It burned fiercely and throbbed. She bit down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out.
Before she knew what was happening, Broch was before her, scooping her into his arms. “When I sleep at my home, I’m like the dead, but in battle or when I’m watching over another, I dunnae sleep.”
She heard him, but at the moment, she was more concerned with why he had picked her up than his sleeping habits. “What are ye doing?” she gasped as he pressed her to his chest and stood.
“’Tis clear, ye kinnae walk on that leg.”
“I can!” she protested.
“Mayhap ye think ye can, but ye would be wrong. Ye could make yer leg worse. I’ll be carrying ye when we are on land.”
Through the thin material of her léine, she was all too aware of the gentle pressure of his fingertips against her waist. “Ye kinnae carry me,” she objected as he approached the cave’s exit.
He paused and glanced down at her. Amusement danced in his blue eyes, and a smile turned his lips up. A tingle commenced in her belly, made more intense when his gaze roved over her lazily.
“I promise ye, lass, I’m strong enough to carry ye all the way to yer home, if need be.”
She suddenly recalled vividly his muscles under her fingertips when they had kissed. God’s teeth! She’d forgotten she had demanded a kiss from him!
“Put me down,” she growled, trying to wiggle out of his arms.
“Nay.” His tone did not leave even the slightest doubt that he would not do as she’d asked.
“Ye gave me something which made me say and do things I normally would nae,” she accused.
He stopped in his stride toward the water and looked at her with parted lips, which he promptly closed. “I gave ye mandrake to ease yer pain,” he said slowly. “I told ye that.”
She took a sharp breath to argue but her memories were flooding back, and she recalled it was he who had stopped their kiss—the kissshehad demanded. Heat warmed her through. “I only insisted upon that kiss because of the mandrake. I dunnae want ye to think—”
“I have forgotten it,” he assured her. She stiffened at his words. God’s teeth. Her first kiss and, apparently, she was forgettable. How mortifying!
Realizing Broch was heading toward the water, she asked, “Are we going back for yer man?”
“Aye.”
