Seduction of a Highland Lass (McCabe Trilogy #2)(6)

“There,” the angel soothed. “ ’Tis enough for now. I know you suffer. I’ll make a tisane for the pain and ’twill make you sleep a little easier.”

But he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to remain there in her arms, cradled to her bosom. ’Twas a very nice bosom. Pillowy and plump, just as a woman should be. He turned, nuzzling into her softness. He inhaled her sweet scent and felt the fires of hell recede. Peace surrounded him. Ah. He’d taken a step toward heaven surely.

“Tell me your name,” he ordered. Did angels have names?

“Keeley, warrior. My name is Keeley. Hush now. You must rest so you can regain your strength. I’ve not worked this hard for you to be arbitrary and die on me.”

Nay, he wouldn’t die. There were important things he must do, though at the moment his bruised mind couldn’t grasp exactly what it was that was so pressing.

Maybe she was right. He should rest for a while. Perhaps when he next awakened, he’d know the right of things.

He inhaled deeply again and let himself go limp. He was vaguely aware of his angel lowering his head. He inhaled one last time, absorbing her scent. It was like drinking the sweetest of wines. A warm, soothing buzz flowed through his veins and lulled him.

He stopped fighting. His angel wouldn’t allow him to die.

“Nay, warrior. I won’t allow you to die.”

Soft lips brushed over his brow, lingering at his temple. He turned his face, wanting her mouth on his own. He thought he might die if she didn’t kiss him again.

There was hesitation, what felt to him like an eternity, before finally, her mouth touched his. Just a simple, innocent gesture that a child might bestow.

He growled low in his throat. Damn if he wanted a simple peck.

“Kiss me, angel.”

He felt more than heard her sound of exasperation, but then her breathing hitched and it blew warm over his mouth. He could smell her. He could feel her vibrating against him. The tiny puff of air signaled that she was close. So very close.

It took all his strength, but he lifted his arm and delved his hand into her hair, gripping her nape to hold her in place. He raised his head and their lips met in a breathless, heated kiss.

Lord, but she was sweet. Her taste filled his mouth, slid over his tongue like smooth honey. He pushed impatiently at her lips, demanding her to open to him. With a sigh she gave him what he wanted. Her lips parted and he delved inside, probing and tasting every part of her mouth.

Aye, ’twas heaven. Because, if this was hell, there wasn’t a man in the whole of Scotland who’d ever tread the path of righteousness.

His strength gone, he slumped back, his head hitting the pillow with a thud.

“You’ve overtaxed yourself, warrior,” she reprimanded in a husky voice.

“ ’Twas worth it,” he whispered.

He thought she smiled, but the room was so blurred around him that he couldn’t be sure. He was vaguely aware of her leaving, but he didn’t have the strength to protest. A moment later, she returned and pressed a goblet to his lips again.

The brew was bitter and he coughed, but she didn’t relent. She poured the liquid into his mouth until he had no choice but to swallow or choke.

When she was done, she lowered his head once more to the pillow and brushed her fingers over his brow.

“Sleep now, warrior.”

“Stay by me, angel. I find it doesn’t hurt so much when you’re near.”

There was faint rustling and then she pressed into his uninjured side, her body soft and so warm, a shield against the chill that gripped him more with each passing moment.

Her scent surrounded him. The feel of her against him soothed the savage fires. He breathed easier as peace enveloped him. Aye, she was his own sweet angel come to guard him from the gates of hell.

Just in case she thought to leave him, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in tighter to his side. He turned his head to the side until her hair tickled his nose. He inhaled deeply and gave in to the darkness creeping over him.

Keeley was in a predicament. Aye, she was trapped against her warrior, his arm like a band of steel surrounding her waist. She’d been there for hours, hoping after he fell asleep that his hold would loosen, but she was melded tight against him.

She could feel every tremor of his body. Every time he shook with the chill from his fever. Several times he mumbled in his sleep and she swept her hand over his chest, up to his face in an effort to soothe him.

She whispered words of nonsense, pitching her tone low so as to offer comfort. Each time she spoke, he seemed to settle and relax once more.

She pillowed her head in the crook of his arm and rested her cheek against his broad chest. ’Twas sinful how much enjoyment she gained from lying against him, but there was no one to see it, and surely God would forgive her if she managed to save the warrior’s life.

A glance at her window had her grimacing. Dusk was upon them and it was growing chillier with each passing minute. She needed to get up to cover the window and she also needed to stoke the fire if they were to be warm the night through.

There was also the matter of the warrior’s horse, if the animal hadn’t already ambled off. Few things would make a man angrier than to have his horse neglected. He’d probably sooner forgive her neglecting his injuries before forgiving insult to his horse. Men had their priorities, after all.

With a sigh of regret, she set about extricating herself from the warrior’s grasp. No simple feat when he seemed just as determined that she stay.