One good sign, though, her fever was gone. He could feel the normal warmth of her body through her nightgown, Cameron dropping his gaze to the steady rise and fall of her breasts.
Her taut nipples pressed against the thin fabric made his throat grow tight, an arresting sight he’d noticed moments ago when she had been swinging at him with his sword.
His sword!
The tempting pucker of those nipples could have gotten him killed—and now he nearly stumbled at the bottom of the tower steps if Conall hadn’t grabbed his elbow to steady him.
“Easy, brother, you dinna want tae drop her.”
“Aye, if you’re going to drop me, I’ll walk on my own,” came an indignant sputter as Aislinn stared up at him, her cheeks grown bright pink. “Protect me, will you? Then I’ll ask you to stop ogling me as if you’ve never seen a woman’s breasts before, Laird Campbell! Let me down!”
Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Aislinn didn’t know if Cameron looked more stunned that she had recovered herself or at what she had just said—but her feet touched the stone floor so abruptly that she gasped.
He might have well as dropped her, for she faltered again, her knees as shaky as moments ago when she’d heard about Finnegan’s death.
Ah, God, the man had been like a father to her! Blinking back tears, she told herself fiercely to keep her wits about her as she stared from one strapping Scotsman to the other, both men gaping at her.
Both men as black-haired and handsome as any she had ever seen, with eyes as deep blue as the Irish Sea. Cameron stood a wee bit taller than the other one, who must be a younger brother for how closely they resembled each other.
As if reading her mind, he stepped forward and offered a gallant bow, a grin splitting his face when he straightened.
“Conall Campbell, beautiful lady, and I’m glad tae see that you’re looking so much better.”
Beautiful lady? At once Aislinn deemed him for what Conall must be, a flatterer and seducer of women, however good-natured—aye, and she intended to stay far away from him!
As for his towering older brother, she had never seen a man look more ill at ease, his expression strained and a fine sheen of sweat upon his brow.
So different from the fearsome warrior Cameron had appeared when he had seized his sword from her—aye, that would never have happened if she hadn’t been weakened by imprisonment!
Gritting her teeth against the lightheadedness that threatened once again to overwhelm her, Aislinn shot a glance around her to see that the three of them weren’t alone.
Wide-eyed servants, men and women alike, stood outside a cavernous great hall, while guards clustered near an arched doorway that must lead outside. All of them stock-still and silently watching as if uncertain what to do.
Yet Aislinn knew exactly what she needed to do. She looked down at the linen nightgown that did little to hide her nakedness, and then back to Cameron.
“Laird Campbell, I want my clothes… my tunic and trousers.”
No sooner had she uttered the words than a deafening crack of thunder seemed to make the walls shake and the servants gasp, while Conall gave a quick glance at Cameron, who appeared even more uncomfortable than before.
“They’ve been discarded,” came Conall’s reply as if speaking for his brother. “Probably burned by now. Our healer, Tobias—the unfortunate fellow you cracked on the head with a candlestick—had tae rip them off you when you were delirious with fever. I dinna imagine you recall any of that—”
“Saints help me, I thought it was a terrible dream,” Aislinn said more to herself, finding it most strange for Cameron not to have answered her demand himself.
Everything around her seemed a mixed-up dream, bits and pieces tumbling through her mind.
Aye, vaguely she remembered fighting and flailing and tasting something syrupy and most foul until blackness had claimed her.
Then what she’d been certain was a worse nightmare, Satan leaning over her… an apparition that she could see now had looked decidedly like Cameron Campbell.
Then more recently when she had awoken with a start, and feared that the burly fellow trying to stick a spoon into her mouth was an enemy, her one thought had been to strike him down and escape from the room.
Yet the stairway she’d found had only gone upward, leaving her disoriented and desperately searching for a place to hide until she could decide upon her next move.
Only then had she surrendered to tears of frustration and confusion—aye, useless tears!—until she’d heard a creaking floorboard…
