The Highlander Is All That (Untamed Highlanders #4)(59)

A man who had wanted this woman since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

She was begging him to come to her, to stay with her.

How could he say no?

He couldn’t.

Flooded with an eerie sense of destiny, he followed her into her room, closed the door, and threw the bolt.

*

It should be uncomfortable, being here alone with Ranald, but it was not. For the first time this evening, Anne felt truly safe. She glanced at him from beneath her lashes as he prowled to the hearth.

He wore a long linen undershirt and a pair of loose breeks. Undoubtedly he’d not had time to dress before rushing into the hall to settle that altercation, so she could only assume this was how he slept.

For some reason, the thought sent shards of heat slicing through her.

“I . . . ah . . .” She had no idea what she intended to say, but that hardly signified, because at her words, he turned to look at her and all thoughts wafted away, replaced by an odd sort of hunger. One she never thought she’d feel again. One she’d tried so hard to bury. She turned away because the feelings were too raw. “Thank you for staying.”

“No’ a problem. I’ll sit here by the fire. You go back to bed.” This he said in a harsh tone through tight lips.

His demeanor was almost cold. She didn’t like it in the least.

Still, she crawled back into bed and pulled up the covers, but she stared at him through the shadows and flickering firelight.

It was probably not wise to stare at him, because all she could do was think about how handsome he was. How warm and kind. And how much she liked him. Really liked him. She’d never liked a man before. Not really.

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

She knew him.

She trusted him.

And, if she was being completely honest with herself, she wanted him.

She wanted to kiss him, caress him, know what his flesh felt like beneath her palm.

She wanted to know how he tasted.

It was all very shocking. Her entire adult life she had been free of such thoughts, such inclinations.

Somehow, this man had gotten under her skin. He’d breached her defenses, just by being kind and constant and trustworthy. Somehow, he’d touched her. Reached her.

He had certainly won her over.

But he’d also awoken something in her, a hunger she’d kept buried deep.

Ever since her devastating love affair with Kirk, she’d ignored that aching emptiness in her soul, one that made her want desperately to be part of something. To not be alone.

She could ignore it no longer.

Ranald made her want that, and more.

Would it be so wrong to give in?

She was hardly an innocent. She knew what she was about. She understood it was only a physical act, that something lasting between the two of them was highly unlikely since she lived in London and he in Halkirk.

Yes. Perhaps she should offer herself. She had no doubt he was attracted to her. That was hardly at issue.

But what if he said no?

Oh dear. What a terrible thought.

Her mind whirled with one thought and then another, swinging from one end of the pendulum to the other. She huffed a sigh and rolled over.

His chuckle rumbled through the room, sending a shiver up her spine. “Can you no’ sleep, lass?”

God. When had that accent become so attractive? Hadn’t she once hated it?

“I’m trying.” To that end, she punched her pillow, then, after a moment, rolled over again, so she could see him.

“Did the bath no’ help?”

“It was lovely.”

She stilled as a truly naughty thought rattled through her brain. It was so reminiscent of something rash her sisters might do, it almost scared her. But part of that reaction was excitement.

She cleared her throat. “The water is still warm . . . if you’d like a bath as well.”

He stilled. In the firelight, she saw a muscle bunch in his cheek. Then he leaned over and swished his fingers in the bathwater. He laughed again. “Liar.”

She sat up and scraped her hair from her face. “I left some buckets on the hearth. You know. If you’re . . . interested.”

He turned to her, which put his face in shadow, but she heard the smile in his voice. “Are you trying to get me naked, young Anne?”

Oh, she loved when he called her that. She couldn’t hide her grin. “Would that be so wrong?”

Again, he stilled. He was silent for some time. Then he said, in a low voice, “What are you saying, Anne?”

She batted her lashes at him. “I think you know what I mean.” And then, as he stood, she laughed and said, “You have been on the road for the better part of a week.”

His disappointment was palpable, which, conversely, delighted her. “That I have,” he said on a sigh. “Do you think you can handle the sight of a naked man?”

“I am hardly some swooning innocent.”

His expression was wry.

“I’m not.”

“Still,” he said somberly. “I doona think it would be wise for me to be naked in your presence.”

“Do you think you would lose your mind and ravage me?” Oh. Please.

His grin was crooked. “Quite the opposite. Women often lose their minds and ravage me when they see me in all my glory.”

“It’s a good thing you are humble.”