The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,46
Dunollie?”
“Straightaway. And if anyone asks your purpose, tell them you’ve come for oats and flour.”
Chapter Fifteen
Before Ciar stepped into the tunnel, he scanned the sky above the craggy, half-ruined tower and saw not a wisp of smoke.
About halfway to the door, Albert met him, wagging his tail. “You’ve decided you like me, have you, laddie?” He scrubbed his knuckles through the dog’s fur. “Or was it the meat I gave you this morn?
“Come along. Let us find out what your mistress is up to.”
As they proceeded toward the dim light, the air grew comfortably warm. He’d tested the lignite coal but had never stayed in the cellars. Thank God it was working now.
The sound of trickling water came from within. Ciar stepped inside and abruptly stopped, his heart flying to his throat. “God’s bones,” he growled under his breath while Albert yipped and dashed across the floor.
Bare naked, Emma turned away from the washstand and stooped to pat the dog. “What is it, ye wee beasty?”
Heaven help him, she was a vision to behold. Her auburn locks tumbled about skin as silky smooth as polished marble. And she was formed like a goddess. Shapely legs. Perfectly rounded buttocks. Gloriously slender arms.
She straightened. A triangle of tight red curls drew his gaze, framed by creamy, sumptuous hips. Her waist was so small, Ciar ached to wrap his fingers around it to see if the tips would touch. As his gaze meandered upward, his mouth grew dry with the racing of his blood. There he stood, a gruff, grisly beast of a man with a twice-broken nose, staring at the most perfect breasts he’d ever seen in his life. Nay, they weren’t large, but rounded and right-sized for Emma’s form. Rose nipples stood proud, calling to him, begging to be suckled.
“Holy. Bloody. Hell.” The words tumbled from his lips before he thought.
The lass immediately snapped her arms across her chest. “Ciar? I-I-I didn’t expect you back so soon!” she squeaked, turning left then right and left again, as if she were uncertain of what to do or where to go. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d have enough time to bathe.”
Chastising himself for his lustfulness, Ciar hastened forward. “There’s nothing to apologize for, lass.”
Her clothes were neatly piled on the bed, and Emma scooted nearer until her thigh touched the coverlet. But as she reached for her shift, it slipped to the floor. “Oh, blast,” she cursed, her face apple red.
Ciar quickly picked it up. “Here.”
She snatched the linen from his fingers and clutched it over the front of her body. “Heavens! You, you must turn away at once.”
“Of course.” He did as she asked. “Do you need help?”
“I am perfectly able to manage.” The shift whooshed, making a puff of air caress his calves. “Please, never tell anyone what you saw. Especially Robert.” She was right. Her brother would find no humor in the situation whatsoever.
“Och, I’d be the last person to utter a word to a soul.”
She drew her kirtle from the bed, the wool giving an even greater whoosh. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Please don’t be.” His words came out low and raspy. “Next time I’ll be certain to call out and announce myself before I step inside.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was breathier than usual as well. Was it her embarrassment or something else?
Ciar clenched his fists. He’d behaved like a rake, standing in the doorway and staring as if he’d never seen a naked woman before. Ballocks, he was daft. No matter what he thought or how tempting Emma might be, he was a fugitive on the run from government troops. He was in more hot water than ever before, and the poor woman had been dragged into this because of her kindness. She was more precious than all the diamonds in the world and, by God, he would treat her as such.
“I’ve sent word to Livingstone,” he said, mostly to ease the tension in the air.
“When do you expect him?”
“Today. Evening, perhaps.” Ciar glanced over his shoulder. “May I turn around now?”
“I must don my stockings first.”
“Why not allow me?”
“Because it would be indecent.”
Of course it would, you ignoramus. “Forgive me. I only thought to help.”
The rustling behind him stopped. “Oh, flay it all, these miserable things are twisted beyond reason.”
Ciar turned.
Seated on the bed, the lass had a woolen stocking partway up her calf, the seam wound around her ankle every which way, and to top it off, the toe was knotted. But the hose wasn’t what drew