CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Come on, sit down over her and let me take those off for ye,” she offered, stumbling a little herself when he put his arm around her shoulders and leaned heavily on her. Somehow, she got him into a chair, knelt in front of him, and managed to pull off his boots. “Ye stink of whisky,” she told him, turning up her nose as she placed the boots to one side and then looked up at him.
“D’ye nae like it?” he slurred, giving her one of his heart-melting, crooked smiles as he gazed at her. The intense look in his dark eyes sent little tingles of excitement racing through her veins. She felt her cheeks heating up and looked away.
“Hmm, I suppose it makes a change from the usual smell of horse,” she replied jokingly, doing her best to hide how he was making her feel. He guffawed loudly, and she could not help but join in with his laughter. She made to rise, but he stopped her.
“Nay, dinnae go, lass,” he said softly, laying one hand on her shoulder and slowly easing off her cap with the other. Her plaitfell down over her shoulder, and to Isla’s surprise, he began gently stroking her hair.
“What are ye up tae, ye fool?” she asked a little nervously as tiny flames, invisible flames danced across her skin, tingling where he touched it.
“Ye have beautiful hair, Annie, the mosht beautiful hair I’ve ever sheen. Ye dinnae ken how much I’ve wanted tae touch it like this. ’Tis so shoft, like shilk,” he murmured.
Half kneeling at his feet, Isla found she could not move, she did not wish to move. Waves of pleasure coursed through her body, and she entered a trance-like state as he began unraveling her plait, loosening her hair from its bonds, and then combing his fingers through the golden lengths as he spread it over her shoulders until it flowed freely, almost touching the floor.
It was when he leaned forward a little and gazed at her so hungrily, she knew he was about to kiss her, that she snapped back to reality. While acknowledging her own growing desire for him, she knew it would be a bad mistake to give into it. So, half-reluctantly, she forced herself to push past his restraining hand and get to her feet.
She stood before him, arms akimbo. “Ye’re sweatin’. I’ll fetch a damp cloth tae wipe yer forehead, and then ye must get tae bed,” she said, eager to do something to distract him from his lascivious antics.
“Och, now she wants me in her bed, demands it even!”
“Wheesht, ye dummart,” she chided him, excited by his words yet unable to stop laughing.
“Ach, Annie, come back here. I was only gonnae give ye a wee kish,” he complained mildly, laughing too as he tried playfully to catch her arm. “D’ye nae want a wee kish?” He blew her a smacking one. “There’s one tae be goin’ on with.”
She smiled as she nimbly eluded him and went to fetch the cloth. “I dinnae want one that reeks of whisky,” she replied briskly, wondering if there was, as the old adage said, “truth in wine.”
“Oh? So, if I wasnae drunk, would ye kish me then?” he asked, wriggling his brows at her comically.
“But ye are drunk. Ye cannae even speak properly. Ye would nae ask me if ye were sober,” she replied over her shoulder from the washstand, drenching a clean cloth in cold water and wringing it out. She brought it back and stood by him, laying the folded cloth on his damp brow and holding it there for a few moments to cool him down.
“Maybe I wouldnae, but I might be thinkin’ about it,” he told her with a playful chuckle, gazing at her, his eyes dark, liquid pools in the flickering candlelight. “I think about it quite a lot.”
“That’s the whisky talkin’. Ye ken, ye’re gonnae regret sayin’ all this in the mornin’, and ye’ll have a hell of a sore head to boot,” she warned him, excitement nevertheless tightening her belly.
“I dinnae care about that. I only want tae tell ye how beautiful ye are and kish ye. Kiss ye, I mean. Is that so wrong?” Despite herself, she giggled when he snatched the cloth from her hand and threw it aside. Then, his arms went around her waist, and he pulled her in, hugging her tightly and laying his head on her belly. “Mmm, so soft and warm. ’Tis better than any pillow. I think I’ll go tae sleep right here.”
Isla laughed, and before she knew what she was doing, she found herself ruffling his hair, running her fingers gently through the dark locks, and stroking his head. He murmured softly, sounds of contentment, his breath coming hot through the homespun of her shirt on her belly, sending tremors though her.
His arms tightened about her, and she closed her eyes, her heart pounding as she cradled his head against her belly, overwhelmed by powerful feelings of affection and tenderness for him. Nothing she had ever felt before had prepared her for the way he made her feel. Wars and sieges and death and destruction seemed a world away. She suddenly knew she only wanted to hold him close like this always, to be at his side forever, this beautiful, clever, funny man… who was her mortal enemy.
When he started to snore softly, she shook herself from her daze and released herself gently from his hold. She patted his cheek. “Ewan wake up, come on, I’ll help ye tae bed.”
“Mmm? Och, there ye are, Annie. Where did ye go?” He ruffled his hair, looking adorably confused as he grinned up at her.
She had to smile as she brushed a stray lock from his clammy forehead. “Come on, ye fool, ye’re nearly asleep on yer feet. Ye need tae come and lie down properly.” She put her arms about him and tried to lift him out of the chair and onto his feet. She may as well have tried to lift his horse.
“Oof! Ach, ye’re heavy as lead,” she exclaimed, straining. “Help me, Ewan. Dinnae go tae sleep again, or I’ll havetae leave ye in the chair.” She patted his face again, her fingertips straying over his dark stubbly chin. Fleetingly, she marveled at how it could be so soft and prickly at the same time.
“What?” He came round a little again and gazed up at her, his handsome face relaxed and boyish. It made her heart skip just to look at him. “I’m nae ashleep, I tell ye, I’m just restin’ me eyes,” he insisted.
She snorted with laughter. “Come on, I’ll help ye tae the bed.”
“Aye, all right woman. Hold yer horshes. Why, ye’re fairly draggin’ me tae the bed. Can ye nae keep yer hands off o’ me?” He heaved himself up and draped himself over her shoulders again. Isla supported him as best she could as they tottered over to the cot.
“Annie, Annie, lishen tae me now, I have sumfin’ very important tae tell ye,” he slurred.
Isla’s ears pricked up. Could this be the piece of vital information she had been waiting for? Something vital that would save Gregory and the rest of their clan?
