Free Highland Jewel (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman Page A

her—or both?
    "And too," she said softly, afraid to meet his eyes, "I've known animals I like better than..." She lifted her gaze finally. "Some people."
    He chuckled quietly. "Ye are the strangest lass alive," he said, remembering the tawny feline shadow that had watched him from beyond the firelight's reach just minutes before. "And ye must eat."
    "I will!" She fairly spat the words in her haste to get them out, lest he kiss her into submission. "Fish. I eat fish. Or bread. Bread will do me fine."
    Leith shook his head but could not resist the plea in her jewel-bright eyes. "As ye will then, lass," he agreed finally, and, leaning across her, crushed her breasts and abdomen against the hard planes of his chest. Heat spurred throughout Rose's already warm body.
    But in a moment he straightened—cheese and bread in his hand, his face only inches from hers.
    "Hungry?" he asked huskily.
    Rose nodded numbly, finding she had no strength to hope her admittance would press him back, and realizing too that she was uncertain what she was most hungry for—food, or the taste of him.
    The thought caused panic to spurt wildly through her. "If I eat," she whispered weakly, "will you let me be?"
    His expression was somber finally, his nostrils slightly flared. "I fear ye have na the strength for what I ache to do," he confessed hoarsely.
    They were held in silence, both tense and breathless, but he moved back eventually, drawing air deep into his lungs so that his chest expanded against her breast and arm. "Eat, me wee nun," he whispered, and she did.
    The bread was stale, hard—and heavenly, the cheese sharp, and each bite taken from his fingers. There was a strange sensuality to the act, an undeniable intimacy as her lips touched his fingers, taking the final piece of cheese.
    He drew his hand away, licking his fingertips as she watched, her eyes wide in her pale face.
    Quiet fell again and she lay in his arms, feeling silly enough to have her ears boxed and searching raggedly for something to say.
    No clever comments came to her mind, however, and he seemed to feel no need to talk, for he lifted her finally, bearing her easily to the spot where several blankets waited.
    "Ye will sleep," he breathed, settling her gently atop the bedroll before covering her with a tartan woolen. "Beneath the plaid of die clan Forbes."
    She touched the brown and green tartan. It was soft and warm and, strangely enough, reminded her of something. Something so far away that it tipped just past the edge of her consciousness, giving her that uncanny feeling that had so worried her mother. She scowled a little, trying to recall, but she was tired. So very weary, so very... Her eyes fell closed and Leith watched, touching her cheek with tenderness.
    "Sleep, wee nun," he whispered. "Soon we will reach our home."
     
    From the ridge above, Colin watched with a grin. So he'd been right all along. Not only was Leith interested in the lass, but he was interested enough to show patience and tenderness, two characteristics not generally associated with the great laird. Turning, Colin hurried back into the darkness.
    Not far from his watch-place, the widow slept. He stepped closer, gazing down at her. She was not his type, of course. Too sharp-tongued and aloof. He liked women who swooned over him. Still, she was a bonny lass. Stepping a pace closer, he squatted, noting how her lips were slightly parted, her eyelids heavy with thick lashes. She was indeed a comely thing. He reached forward and ever so gently caressed her cheek.
    She moaned and turned her face so that his fingers pressed more firmly against her flesh.
    "Devona." He said her name softly, feeling her allure whip a hard response from his deprived masculinity. "Bonny Devona."
    She twisted slightly, so that her blanket was pulled lower, exposing a half-bare shoulder.
    "Mayhap, ye are na so aloof as ye seem," he whispered.
    Her left leg bent and straightened, pulling the blanket lower still, revealing