9
Heather was torn. Should she go after him or not? Part of her wanted to run up to Gavin as he marched away, demand he stop and explain to her what on earth the kiss meant. That was selfish of course. The castle was under siege. He was laird of an entire clan. He had far more important things to deal with than her emotional state.
Better to forget it had ever happened. Focus on what mattered, like the fact she was in a besieged castle, at risk of actually dying.
As she stood in the courtyard, thoughts continued to whirl around her head. Her emotions were in turmoil. She should definitely not be throwing her arms around the laird of the MacGregors, the man she was here to steal from.
That wasn’t the point though. The point was how the kiss had made her feel. There was no denying it had done something to her. It had woken her up in a way she couldn’t have explained to anyone else.
From the moment his lips touched hers something passed between them, a spark of something bigger than either of them. Her lips still tingled as she thought of that kiss. It had been all she had ever hoped and dreamed an embrace could possibly be.
She had read about other kisses in books. She had thought the authors were exaggerating to make the books more interesting. Her kisses with David were nothing but a light breeze compared to the hurricane of sensation that Gavin had just given to her.
Yet he had pulled away from the kiss almost at once. He clearly thought it was a mistake. No doubt he wished her to never mention it again.
She thought all this and more in the few seconds it took him to disappear from sight. Before she knew what she was doing, she was running after him.
“Wait for me,” she shouted.
He reappeared at the top of the steps, looking back at her. He looked furious. Was this really the same man who’d protected her for the last couple of nights? He couldn’t have looked any colder if she were a complete stranger who’d just tried to stab him in the face. “What?”
“Where are you going?”
He ignored her, shouting past her shoulder, “Susanne!”
A figure emerged from a wooden building to her left, carrying an armful of folded linen. “My laird?”
“Take our guest to her room and ensure she is safe. I have no time for idle gossip. We are in the midst of a siege.”
“Siege is it? It’s been a while since we had a decent siege. I love a good one. Who is it this time?”
“Outlaws and Frazers. Take her upstairs.”
Then he was gone, leaving Heather wondering exactly what she’d done wrong. In the time it took for Susanne to walk over to her, she had passed through pain and was enjoying a roadtrip around anger and bitterness.
Just who did he think he was talking to her like that?
“This way, my lady,” Susanne said, heading into the keep. “I will have some food brought up to your room.”
“One minute,” Heather said, running over to Lairdkiller as the grooms circled him warily. She reached past them into the saddlebag to bring out the silver key.
She gripped it in her fist as the grooms looked at her. “What?” she asked.
“He’s not kicked you,” one of the grooms said. “How did you do that?”
She shrugged. “No idea.”
Susanne grabbed her by the arm. “No time for gossip with grooms.” She took her up the steps to the second floor of the keep.
“It seems different,” Heather said as she stepped inside. “Smaller, somehow.”
“I brought some furniture in for you,” Susanne replied. “You can sew by the fireside if you wish. The clothes you came in have been cleaned. I found some items with them.” Here her voice turned cold. “I have left them by your bedside.”
“Thank you,” she replied as Susanne withdrew, pulling the door closed as she went.
There was a click and then the door was locked. That didn’t matter. She had the silver key. She smiled as she realized what that meant. She could unlock it at any time and go home. Having the key in her possession again took away some of the fear of the siege. There was little risk of dying if all she had to do was unlock a door and return to her own time.
Her thoughts turned to home. Donna was there. Her job was there.
