Free Highland Sinner by Hannah Howell Page B

Ross filled his mind and his body began to harden in interest. It had been a very long time since the mere thought of a woman could stir his need, but Morainn Ross accomplished it. Tormand knew it would be wise to push her from his thoughts as well, but he did not. Dreams of the lush Morainn were far preferable to dreams of blood, death, and grief.
    Even as he slipped into sleep his dream of Morainn grew heated. Tormand slowly removed her clothing, kissing each newly revealed inch of her soft golden skin. He savored her sighs of pleasure and the feel of her fingers in his hair. A little cry of surprised delight escaped her lush mouth as he caressed her full breasts, first with his hands and then with his mouth. The heat of her desire turned her eyes into the color of a storm-tossed sea and he felt himself tumble into their mysterious depths, trapped by her beauty and willing to stay there. But, as he readied himself to unite their bodies, to savor her womanly heat surrounding him, everything began to change.
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    Darkness swirled around their entwined bodies. The warm, willing woman in his arms became a bloodied corpse. The beautiful eyes that had been shaded with passion for him were gone and he stared in black holes. A soft, cold voice laughingly asked him how he liked his new lover.
    Tormand bolted up in bed so fast that he nearly fell out of it. He was soaked in sweat, his breath coming fast and hard. The fact that no one had burst into his bedchamber told him that he had at least kept silent during what had turned into a chilling nightmare. He stumbled over to a small table near the fireplace and poured himself a tankard of wine. It took all of one tankard full and half of another before he felt his heartbeat slow to normal and his hands ceased to shake.
    He took a moment to wash the worst of the sweat from his body before crawling back into bed. If that horror was going to revisit him every time he closed his eyes, he would never sleep again. The first part of the dream was easy to understand. He found Morainn Ross very alluring. It was the end of the dream that troubled him. Was it born of guilt or the horrors he had seen? Or, worse, was it some hint of the future, a warning that if he gave in to his attraction to Morainn she would end up like the others? He prayed that was not true, for he was sorely tempted by Morainn and he was not a man who easily resisted temptation.
    Cautiously allowing himself to relax and invite sleep to take him back into its hold, Tormand wondered if the Ross witch really did have visions. Could she truly touch something and see whatever secrets it might hold? If she could, Morainn Ross could well prove to be just what he and Simon needed to find the killer. They would have to keep her close then, protecting her as she aided them. And with such protection around her, Tormand decided she would be safe enough that he might not have to worry about resisting temptation after all.

    Morainn managed to bite back the scream in her throat this time as she sat up in bed so fast she felt dizzy for a moment. She reached for the tankard of cider she had begun to keep at her bedside and took a deep drink, trying to wash the sting of terror out of her throat. It took several moments for her heartbeat to return to a more comfortable pace.
    If these dreams did not stop soon she would be too exhausted to do even the simplest of chores.
    Morainn feared she might start to fight going to sleep at all. That would be an affliction that could easily kill her in the end.
    Setting her drink aside, she huddled beneath the blankets and tried to grasp the courage to go back to sleep, to get the rest she needed. Morainn was almost too afraid to close her eyes. The horrific sight of her own body lying there, mutilated, her eyes gone, was not one she could easily forget.
    Yet again the horror had come after a lovely heated dream of her and