Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(36)

She suddenly laughed at their circumstances. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’ve never seen you uncertain, Rolfe McTavish,” she explained.

He rocked back on his heels for a moment. “Enjoying it, are ye?”

She shrugged and moved a little farther into the room. Her memory offered up a fine, perfect recollection of what had happened the last two times they were alone together. And exactly how much she’d enjoyed it.

Her cheeks heated.

She turned and looked into the small hearth the room was furnished with.

“I suppose ye’re due a bit of enjoyment,” he said quietly. “’Tis the truth that I’ve missed seeing ye smile.”

Katherine turned back to face him so quickly that her skirts swished in a wave of wool. “I have little to be pleased about, thanks to you.”

“Me father is the one responsible for ye being taken back to Morton.”

“If you had not insisted on taking me to McTavish land in the first place,” she argued, “I would never have met the man.”

Rolfe was watching her and suddenly came to some sort of conclusion. He stepped into the room, and she fell back instantly. The heat in her cheeks doubled, her breath catching in her chest.

Why did it have to be Rolfe McTavish who had suddenly awakened the woman inside her?

He placed his sword on the table and walked over to the hearth. It was strange the way he drew her attention. She was fascinated by his motions. The way he knelt so easily and sat there, poised on a knee as he placed some wood into the hearth and struck a flint next to it. She’d done the same many times, but had never enjoyed watching someone do it. The man mesmerized her.

The only saving grace was that he detested her English blood. At least he would prevent her from succumbing to his touch.

Yet was that a blessing?

With the fate she was bound for, was she wise to squander her opportunity to enjoy the touch of a man she craved?

Wicked…

Perhaps she was everything she’d been accused of being recently, and more.

There was a knock on the door, and it swung open a moment later as the woman returned with her arms full. She bustled over to the table and set several dishes on it. Rolfe had turned to watch her, but he was looking through the open door at his captain. Adwin didn’t smile often, and tonight his expression was dark.

“We’ll be at the base of the stairs.”

Rolfe nodded as the woman lowered herself and hurried out.

“I’ll sleep by the fire, lass.”

“Of course you will.” She should have sounded more grateful, but the sting of that moment when he’d jerked away from her was still too sharp.

Rolfe slowly chuckled. The sound wasn’t one of amusement, though. There was a dark promise in it, one clearly expressed on his face when she looked toward him.

“Ye think I pulled away from ye because ye’re English?”

Part of her recognized that she might be far better off ignoring his question, but the wound that had yet to heal from that moment refused to allow her to suffer in silence any longer.

“Yes.”

He rose and closed the distance between them. “I am a man of me word, Katherine.”

His comment caught her off guard, but she was having trouble thinking again. He was too near, too large, too imposing, and her flesh was far more interested in responding to him again without any interference from her thoughts or sense.

“I did bring ye to me land to ensure ye did nae meet a foul end due to yer foolishness.”

She bristled. “And I have told you that you were justified. Is it so terrible to say I felt at ease in the Highlands and never suspected that there would be men who harbored hatred for me simply because of my blood? Is it so very wrong to see the world as a good place? Inhabited by men of honor? I never had a reason to hate the Scottish and didn’t see any reason to distrust the MacPhersons when Marcus brought me north. They gave me every reason to embrace their kindness.”

“Ye were old enough to have heard about the strife between our two peoples.”

She lifted her hands into the air. “Aye, and yet young enough to decide to embrace a life that seemed free of such hatred.” She finished with a sigh, realizing how desolate her life was now that she’d been forced to face the hard reality of hatred. It left her so lonely. “There must have been a time when you were forced to face such harsh facts. Wasn’t there a time when you viewed the years ahead with hope instead of duties to be fulfilled?”

He paused, brought up short by her words. She glimpsed a moment of surprise flashing through his green eyes.

“Aye,” he offered with an honesty that felt very personal. He locked gazes with her, and she knew she was looking at the boy he’d once been. The one who had believed in hope. The one so similar to herself that she felt a kinship with him that was nearly soul-deep.

It made her realize how alone she’d felt since Robert had decided to see her as a woman instead of his companion.

“When me father lost his leg, he took to his chamber abovestairs.” Rolfe moved back toward the hearth, leaning on the mantel as he relived the moment.

“I thought the worst of it was when the surgeon took off his leg. I’ve heard men scream before, but this was my father. I wished it were me own limb, and that’s the truth. I cursed the bloody Hays to hellfire because it was a skirmish with them that had festered.”