Free Heart Of A Highland Warrior by Anita Clenney

give him toothpaste and deodorant.
    “I’m finished,” she said, and he dropped the blanket, his eyes glittering as he stared at her. He draped the blanket over his arm. “Do you want to sit?”
    The stone bench was the only place to sit besides the floor, so they both sat on the bench, side by side. Anna shivered, and he handed her the blanket. “You take it. I’m not cold.”
    He was lying. When his arm brushed hers, she could feel the chill of his skin. This place was like a freezer. How could it be so much colder here than it had been at Faelan and Bree’s? It felt more like January than early November. Was that part of his torture? Freeze him half to death?
    “Thank you.” She wrapped it around her, leaving an edge free for him. “If we sit closer, we can share it.”
    He nodded and scooted next to her. She could still smell the blood on his kilt and shirt, but his body smelled clean, male. It gave her the strangest sensation, sitting in near darkness with a man she didn’t know, who she suspected was a warrior, though he didn’t know it. Could he be Austin, the warrior from Canada who ’d been attacked by vampires on the way to meet Angus? This place had vampires. Austin could have followed them here after the attack. But he didn’t sound Canadian. He sounded like a Scot. And while tattoos were popular, and it wasn’t uncommon to see a man in a kilt—less so in America—there were too many signs that he was a warrior. His appearance, his manner, the way he moved. And those marks. If they weren’t battle marks, why did she feel like they were whispering to her?
    They sat side by side, wrapped in the blanket. His body was warm next to hers, making her sleepy. Unnaturally so. Had the guard put something in her food? She tried to imagine how it would have been for him, here alone, beaten, no memories, no answers, and no one to talk to except his tormentors. He must be strong, mentally as well as physically. “I don’t how you’ve survived being here.”
    “I don’t have a choice. I can’t let them kill me. So I sit here night after night waiting to remember something, waiting for them to make a mistake so I can escape.”
    “I’m sorry. I promise, we’ll find a way out of here.”
    He gave her a puzzled glance. “You must have had a hard life,” he said.
    His words surprised her. There was no way he could know about her past. She didn’t talk about it. “Why do you say that?”
    “I’ve never seen a woman so…” He seemed to be searching for the word. “Strong,” he finally said, but Anna didn’t think that was his first choice.
    “Thank you,” she said, not sure it was a compliment. All warriors were strong, but she didn’t tell him that. She couldn’t tell him who she was until she was sure who he was. Clan secrets had to be kept. “You’re strong too. You would have to be to survive the torture. The tattoos on your chest, you don’t recall getting them?”
    He touched his chest. “No. It’s an odd thing what being alone does to you, having no idea who you are. Sometimes…” He paused and gave her a sheepish grin that made her body feel weightless. “Sometimes I feel like the marks are talking to me. Barmy, aye?”
    If the marks were what she thought, it wasn’t barmy at all. Her battle marks had kept her sane many times. Another cry sounded from outside. The hybrid? “What is this place?” she said, shuddering.
    “The guards don’t talk much, other than taunting me.”
    “Lance is sneaky. I couldn’t see the man he was talking to just before I followed him, but he doesn’t want the fat guard to know about it.”
    “Did you recognize the man he was talking to?”
    “No. But he was huge.” Not many men were that size. Maybe he wasn’t a man. Could he have been the master? But why would Lance be sneaking around? Anna squirmed trying to get more comfortable. The bench was hard.
    “Are you still cold?”
    “I’m fine.” He must not have believed her, or he was