However, she was damned if
she was going to sit beside him while he slept off a drinking
spree.
She ran to the kitchen and
returned a minute later with something clutched in one hand.
Kneeling beside him, she took a moment to search his face. A
fluttering sensation swirled around her heart. Never had she met a
man so utterly masculine, and it was more than his rugged face and
muscular build. There was something about him she couldn't quite
put her finger on, something in the way he took charge that
gratified a primitive need in her.
She'd never allowed a man to
try to dominate her in the past. She thought, prior to this
Scotland experience that she'd never allow herself to give up even
a small portion of her independence. So why did she, in her heart
of hearts, gladden whenever he blocked her threats to
leave?
Was it because she had
subconsciously known she was being irrational, or was the actual
reason, she didn't want to leave before getting to know
him?
Uncurling her fingers, she
took a pinch of the dark ground substance, but stared down into his
face for a time longer.
Had she not been in such a
state—or so damned proud!—she would have enjoyed further
exploration of his preeing.
She focused on his sensuous
lower lip and sighed.
Such a wonderful, beckoning
mouth. She knew in her heart, she would never work up the nerve to
tell him how devastatingly charming was his burr. Part of her
initiating their confrontations was to listen to him, although it
caused her to inwardly ache to hear the enchanting lilts his tongue
created out of the simplest words.
"I've got to purge my system
of you," she said in a solemn, low tone, her gaze drinking in every
detail of his features.
Heaving a throbbing breath,
she sprinkled the black substance beneath his nostrils then clamped
the same hand over his mouth. Anxiety began to work its
strangulating fibers through her conscience when long moments
passed.
Then he sneezed. His hands
clumsily tried to pry hers from his mouth.
Laura scooted back as a
sneezing fit fully snatched him from unconsciousness. Rolling over
and getting onto his hands and knees, he conceded to the paroxysms
until they finally began to wane.
Pain sliced through his head
with each movement. Numbness tingled through his limbs. His stomach
heaved, settled then heaved again before he began to gulp in
draughts of air.
"Are you all
right?"
His head slowly turned and
his bloodshot eyes strained to focus on her.
"Wha' did you do to me?" he
moaned.
"I couldn't revive you," she
replied nervously, scooting back further until her spine met with
the bottom step.
Roan gingerly turned on his
hands and knees to face her. "Wha' did you—" He sneezed again,
groaned, grimaced, and narrowed his eyes on her. "—do to
me?"
She held out a trembling
fist, then uncurled the fingers and exposed what lay in her
palm.
Closing one eye, Roan stared
at the substance. "Pepper? You made me snort pepper?"
The wounded, incredulous
look in his eyes racked her with guilt. "It worked, didn't it?" she
asked in a small voice.
Crawling to the newel post
and hoisting himself onto his feet, he issued a guttural, "I'm
feelin' a wee wabbit."
Laura sprang to her feet, a
look of horror masking her face. "Are you going to throw
up?"
His eyes narrowed on her as
he strained to steady the tottering of his large frame. "Twould be
fair play." He sneezed and nearly keeled over.
"Don't fall, please!" Laura
pleaded, wrapping an arm about his middle. "The owners have
returned. I'll get them to help—"
"Leave 'em be," he growled,
placing his brow on the rounded post in front of him. "They're
probably makin' love."
Laura's cheeks reddened as
she peered up the staircase.
"They've it comin', lass,"
Roan murmured, looking up as well. "Lannie's okay. No' the devil I
thought him to be."
"The two of you got drunk.
By any chance, did you talk about my predicament?"
As if to move was
excruciating, he placed an arm about her shoulders and stared down
at