Free Highland Flame (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman Page B

altogether and flopping a flaccid hand onto Roderic's bare foot.
    Roderic held his breath and remained absolutely sail. The hall was silent as a tomb and the tawny hound watched him, but not a man stirred.
    Seconds ticked by. Perhaps men were awake after all. Perhaps they lay wide-eyed, watching him. Their swords were drawn under their plaids and they were laughing at his predicament. Sweat beaded on Roderic's brow.
    Near the fire, someone began to snore, breaking the silence. Roderic forced himself to relax. Assuring himself that all were asleep, he reached out, pushed the hand from his foot, and claimed the blanket for his own.
    He rose smoothly, already wrapping the purloined woolen about his hips as he stepped toward the distant stairs. The watchful hound growled again. Roderic spared her a glance, and then, feeling no particular need to hurry, pulled the mutton from his sporran.
    Approaching the dogs at a moderate pace, he stopped not far away, extending a bit of his meal to the tawny bitch that watched him. She stared into his face, unblinking, solemn and large—a careful lass. Roderic grinned and squatted before her. He had met shy maids before and had overcome their uncertainty, but there was very little time now. Behind him, someone grumbled an expletive in his sleep.
    Roderic set the meat by the hound's paws and rose. She tilted her long, elegant head and watched him but made no protest as he moved away.
    The stairs up which Roderic finally traveled were narrow. He made his way quickly, his bare feet silent against the cool stone. It was very dark in the hallway that he entered. Barely a glimmer of light penetrated the dimness, but he skimmed his fingers along the walls until he felt the rough timber of a door. Putting his ear to the wood, he listened for just a moment before pushing it quietly open. The tenacious light of the moon through a window showed him rows of barrels and little else.
    He moved onward again, his hand grazing the plastered wall until his toes bumped something soft. A feminine voice mumbled a complaint, and near his feet the woman shifted upon her pallet. Roderic held his breath. Of course. Flanna would have a maidservant outside her door. And thus, he knew he had finally arrived at his destination.
    Ever so carefully, he leaned over the maid and set his hand to the door latch. It creaked softly beneath his fingers. The woman on the pallet sighed and turned. Roderic froze, not breathing.
    An eternity followed, but finally the servant's exhalations could be heard again, soft and cadenced. Stepping over her, Roderic balanced himself between the mattress and the door to ply the hinges and handle with his impromptu lubricant once again.
    Only when the flap of his sporran closed over the mutton for the third time that evening did Roderic set his hand to the handle once more. It turned soft as thistledown beneath his fingers. The door eased inward on silent hinges.
    He was through in an instant. He pushed the weighty portal closed behind him, stepped smoothly inside, glancing this way and that. 'Twas possible Flanna would retain another servant on this side of the door. But if such was the case, he saw no one on the floor near the huge bed that occupied the room.
    It was draped with curtains that were drawn back at the corners, letting in the night air. So Flanna Mac-Gowan was not a lass to become easily chilled, Roderic thought. Indeed, she must be quite a hot-blooded maid. Walking stealthily toward her bed, he kept his attention focused on the form in its center.
    The narrow window opened on the night sky not far away, gracing the room with errant moonbeams. They flooded through the window like liquid silver, falling across the mattress and onto the smooth, regal face that rested on a fat, goose-down pillow.
    Her hair was loose. Roderic eased a bit closer, drinking in the image. Her lips were parted, her left hand rested beneath her soft cheek, and amidst the tangled blankets, one pale leg was