Free Highland Deception (Highland Pride) by Lori Ann Bailey Page B

She would probably feel the same way if she were in his place.
    “I’m sorry.”
    Her head tilted. Had any of the men in her life ever apologized to her?
    His eyes peered directly into hers. The stony tension in him had softened, and he continued, “I was careful no’ to damage anything.”
    Her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded, surprised at how easy she found it to forgive him. The Cameron laird valued her enough to apologize for upsetting her.
    “Some water for yer tea.” Malcolm set the cup down on the small wooden table between the two chairs.
    Before her gaze shifted to Malcolm to thank him, she smiled at Lachlan. For some reason, it was important he knew she had accepted his apology. He answered with a small grin of his own.
    After she finished her tea and had a piece of bannock with honey, she swayed with weariness and almost fell from the chair. Lachlan took her arm, helped her up, and guided her to the larger of two small beds in an adjoining room. It was cooler here, despite the door left ajar for heat from the cook fire.
    “With the rain, ’tis good we have a place to stay inside tonight.”
    She didn’t attempt to clear the fog in her head and hadn’t even known it was raining. “Whose bed?” Her lids fought to close before she could lie down.
    “’Twas Father Ailbert’s. The other is Robbie’s.” Lachlan pulled the blankets back and eased her to sit on the mattress.
    He knelt down in front her, and her heart beat faster at the nearness and intimacy of the position. If he’d looked at her she might have come undone, but he was unlacing the dirty, old man boots she wore. A sigh escaped. He set her shoes aside and rose to his full, intimidating height.
    “Robbie has found ye some clean clothes.” Pointing to the edge of the bed where a white shirt and some trews similar to the ones she wore lay folded, he shrugged. “’Twas that or priest’s robes.”
    The idea of clean garments of any kind had her smiling. He nodded to a small bowl resting on a table in the corner.
    “There is water in the basin for washing. Mayhap ’tis still warm,” he called over his shoulder as he left the room.
    She went to the basin and picked up the cloth beside it to wash the day’s dirt from her face and hands. A brush lay on the table as well. For all that he didn’t trust her, he had still thought of her comfort. Odd for a man to consider her needs.
    After washing, she spent several motherents running the bristles through her tangled hair. Undressing and placing the dirty clothes in a pile at the side of the room, she put on the crisp shirt and laid the clean trews and stockings on a side table. Lachlan came back through the door and froze, his gaze fixed on her. Comfortable but exhausted now, she didn’t try to analyze what he was thinking as she sat on the bed.
    “Climb in and move to the other side.” His voice sounded strangled, almost as if it were a plea instead of a command, but she was so drowsy that she did as instructed and shut her eyes before thinking to ask, “Why?”
    “’Cause we’ll be sharing the bed,” was what she imagined he said, but she was nearly asleep.
    At some point during the night, Maggie woke with Lachlan’s arm around her. It was comforting, and she nestled into the warmth of the embrace as she relished the security of his hold. He hadn’t attempted to woo her, only kept her encircled like a treasured possession in his strong arms, and that’s how she knew it was just a dream.
    No one has ever valued me.
    …
    Maggie woke to the sound of deep male laughter and voices not belonging to her brothers. Early-morning light streamed in through threadbare curtains, and a cross hung on the wall, reminding her where she had slept. She rose, pulled on the clean clothes and her boots, and walked into the other room. Seamus had reappeared, but Alan was missing. Lachlan stood near the fire, and his gaze met hers as she crossed to sit on the only open chair at the larger