“Who’s a good dog?” she said in a crooning voice.
“Not him,” Reid said with a scowl. He held up the pieces of his bandage. “Daft hound doesnae know what’s good for him.”
But in truth, relief flooded through Reid. Whitefoot was still weak but he looked a hundred times better than he did last night. His bandage would need changing—and he would need careful watching to make sure he didn’t destroy it—but he dared to hope that the hound would pull through.
Jealous of Whitefoot getting all the attention, Bo hauled herself to her feet and put her head in Reid’s lap.
Reid found himself grinning manically. He couldn’t seem to help himself. A sudden, unexpected sense of euphoria swept through him. Here he was, alone with Abigail and his loyal hounds. What more could he want from life?
Abigail saw him smiling and grinned herself. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Thank ye.”
“For what?”
He shrugged and shifted along the bed until he sat next to her. “For...” he gestured helplessly. How could he put into words the feelings she engendered in him? He barely understood it himself. “For everything,” he said at last.
Putting his finger under her chin, he bent his head and kissed her. She responded instantly, tangling her fingers into his hair and pressing herself close with a little moan of pleasure. The sound of it made Reid’s blood roar. Heat rose in his body, a painful ache stretching his groin, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
She tasted good. So good. Her lips were warm and soft, her mouth a hot, moist cave that invited him in. He could feel her heart thundering where their chests touched. Dear God, how he wanted this woman. How he wanted to lay her down and take her. The need was so overwhelming he could barely keep control.
The dogs came to his rescue again. Whitefoot gave a plaintive whine and that was enough for Abigail. She turned to the hound, concern creasing her perfect features.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, running her hands over Whitefoot’s back. “You’re not hurting are you?”
He thumped his tail, loving the attention.
“Aye, there’s something wrong,” Reid grated. “It’s called jealousy. Remind me never to kiss ye whilst the dogs are nearby. Damned hounds.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so that means you’ll be kissing me again, does it?”
“Aye, lass, I will. As often as ye’ll let me.”
Her breathing was a little more rapid than it should be and there were high spots of color on her cheeks. Something was developing between them that he struggled to put a name to. It was more than just physical attraction. There was that of course—God above, there was that!—but she made him ache for something more, something he’d never had before.
He was about to speak when a noise from outside intruded into the room. Reid crossed to the window and looked out.
“What is it?” Abigail asked.
Reid’s jaw tightened at the sight of the mounted men riding into the courtyard below. “The men I sent after Domnall Maguire have returned.”
She paled a little. “Have they caught him?”
He so wanted to give her the answer she needed but it wasn’t to be. “It doesnae look like it.”
Her nostrils flared, fear crossing her face. He sat on the bed by her side and took her hand. “Dinna worry about Domnall Maguire, lass. I willnae let him, nor any man, harm ye.”
She nodded, and then cocked her head and studied him. “Why do you have men like Domnall Maguire in your ranks?”
“I dinna have a choice. Laird Campbell recruited him.”
“Laird Campbell? He decides who works for you?”
“Aye, and more besides. I swore myself to his service.”
“Why?”
The question took him aback. “What do ye mean?”
