Free Highland Wolf by Hannah Howell Page B

strong sense of mine that came over him whenever he saw Annora MacKay made him think he may have found it with her.
    Not only stupid but a very poor sense of timing on fate’s behalf, he mused. As a declared outlaw, he was a walking dead man. Accepting a mate now meant that he placed the woman under that same death sentence. He was going to have to try harder to control that part of him that wanted to grab Annora and claim her in every way a man could claim a woman.
    Forcing all thought of her from his mind, he concentrated on his carving. The work did bring him some peace and he welcomed the lessening of the tension that had gripped his body. It was not until he paused to study what he had done that his tension returned full force. In the far corner of the piece of the mantel he had been working on was a woman’s face. It was Annora’s, every soft curve of the face already as familiar to him as his own.
    “’Tis some fine work ye have done there, laddie,” said Big Marta from behind him, and James inwardly cursed. The woman had a real skill at arriving at his side at just the wrong moment.
    “Aye, it will do,” he murmured, hoping the woman would leave it at that.
    “That face looks verra familiar.”
    “Does it, now?”
    “Aye, it looks just like our wee Annora.”
    “Weel, she has a fine face.”
    Big Marta laughed, slapped him on the back, and walked away. “Och, laddie, dinnae fight it too hard.”
    James groaned and rested his head against the carving that was now permanently etched into the wood of the mantel that would adorn the fireplace in the laird’s chamber. He would probably still fight what was becoming very clear. It was a man’s natural inclination to fight a thing as binding as what was growing inside him. Unfortunately, he was sure it was a battle already lost.

Chapter Six
    Annora woke to her cat sitting on her chest and staring into her face. She gave the big, gray torn a sleepy smile and scratched behind its ragged ears. It had been on a bit of a wander for a few days and she feared there would be some kittens born in a few months. She would have to try to find them and see if she could save them from a drowning.
    Mungo, named after a boy who had been her friend when she was a child, was a well-kept secret. Annora had absolutely no doubt that Donnell would use her love for her cat against her if he found out about Mungo. He had already shown that he could use her feelings for Meggie to keep her obedient.
    Sitting up, she uncovered the small plate of venison bits mixed with a cooked egg that she had scavenged for her pet and set it down on the bed beside her. Purring deeply and loudly, Mungo moved off her to eat and she idly stroked its back as she shook free of the last tenuous grip of a long, deep sleep.
    Oddly enough, despite the depth of her sleep, she could recall a very vivid dream, one she had had many times before. This time, however, the ruddy, green-eyed wolf was watching her as she kissed a tall, dark-haired man. A man with the same color eyes as the wolf, she thought and frowned. That kiss she had shared with Rolf had certainly added new warmth to her dreams, but it was only now that she realized he had those same eyes as the wolf that had haunted her dreams for a little over three years.
    “How verra strange, Mungo,” she murmured as the cat curled up by her side, resting its head on her chest. “Do ye think my dreams are some kind of, weel, a vision? Nay, that cannae be. Wheesht, I have enough trouble trying nay to feel what everyone round me is feeling. I dinnae need to become afflicted with the sight as weel.”
    Mungo yawned widely and began to lazily wash a paw.
    “He kissed me, Mungo. Oh, I ken that I have been kissed before and one or two times I actually wanted to be kissed, but, wheesht, none kissed me like he kissed me. I have certainly ne’er dreamed of any mon who kissed me. Most of them I wouldnae want to dream of, true enough, but, aye, one or two didnae