Free In McGillivray's Bed by Anne McAllister Page A

against reaching out and hauling her into his arms as his instincts wanted to. Fortunately his sense of self-preservation was stronger.
    Damn but she packed a wallop.
    â€œSorry,” she muttered again. “I thought you were…”
    â€œRoland?”
    She nodded, shaking, wrapping her arms across her chest, then rubbed her bruised knuckles against her lips and grimaced.
    â€œYou all right? Maybe you need a doctor.”
    â€œI don’t need a doctor.” Her eyes flashed. Her chin lifted. “I’m fine.”
    â€œRight. Sure you are. You’re probably having a delayed reaction. Shock.”
    She started to deny it, then shrugged. She turned to look at the hole she’d put in the wall. “Did I do that?”
    â€œUnless it was a snake,” Hugh said.
    Her eyes snapped back to meet his, wide as dinner plates, then they looked wildly around the room.
    â€œKidding,” Hugh said.
    Sydney shuddered. “Not funny.”
    â€œProbably not.” But a whole lot safer than reaching for her and comforting her. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “You’re tense. How about a little something to make you relax?”
    â€œWhat?” She raised a brow. “You mean like a beer?”
    â€œIf you want,” he said offhandedly. “But I was thinking of something else. My aunt Esme swore by it. Used to give it to us all the time. Whenever we were twitchy.”
    â€œTwitchy?”
    â€œUpset. Couldn’t sleep.”
    â€œOh. Your aunt Esme did that?” She looked at him suspiciously as if he were making her up.
    He nodded. “My father’s aunt, really. Esme had a cure for everything. She always knew best.” He shook his head ruefully at all his memories of bossy, domineering Aunt Esme. “I’ll fix you some.” Anything to get out of standing there watching her breasts move beneath the cotton of her borrowed T-shirt. Hastily he headed for the kitchen.
    Bare feet slapped on the floor following him. “What is it? What are you making?”
    â€œNever mind. You can’t watch. If you do, it won’t work. Go back to bed. I’ll bring it in.”
    For a minute he thought she would refuse. She eyed him warily. “Why won’t it work?”
    â€œI don’t know. That’s what she always said. My dad said it was because she put eye of newt in it.”
    â€œEye of newt?” Syd looked appalled.
    Hugh grinned. “My dad’s a doctor. He thinks Esme’s a quack.”
    â€œAnd that’s why you’re fixing me her cure-all?”
    â€œI’m fixing it so you can sleep. Go back to bed. No eye of newt,” he promised.
    The corners of her mouth tipped up. Then she sighed and shrugged. “All right.” She gave another shudder. “I just hope it works.”
    Hugh hoped she’d be asleep by the time he heated it and brought it in to her.
    Of course she wasn’t. When he returned she was back in bed with the small bedside lamp on. He handed her a mug. She sniffed it suspiciously.
    â€œSmells like eye of newt.”
    â€œNope. It’s lizard. Drink up.”
    Sydney choked. She looked at him, aghast, then heaved a sigh. “You are so juvenile.” Gripping the mug, she brought it to her lips and took a cautious sip. “It’s hot.” She touched her tongue to her lips. “It’s just milk,” she decided, then tasted again. “And something else.”
    â€œLizard,” Hugh repeated. “And a few spiders.”
    â€œRight. And snakes, I’m sure.”
    â€œNope.” He shook his head. “Aunt Esme was afraid of snakes.”
    â€œI don’t believe you even have an aunt Esme. You put rum in this,” she said accusingly.
    He shrugged. “Figured you were old enough to drink.”
    Sydney nodded and took another, deeper swallow, then settled back against the pillows. “It’s good.” She smiled up