Page 35 of Kidnapped By a Highland Shadow

Arran hesitated for a long moment, then laid down the dead rabbits by the fire. “Aye, I will. Don’t even think of running, though.”

“And where would I go? This place is pitch black,” Pippia observed.

The rabbits were delicious. Pippia could barely spare a moment of pity for the poor, dead creatures before the meat was almost all gone, except for what Arran carefully set aside for later.

“You can have my bedroll tonight,” Arran said abruptly. “You’ll be cold, but so will I. I’ll need my cloak, but you should be warm enough in the bedroll.”

Pippia pursed her lips. “Well, if I’d known you’d intended to kidnap me, I could have been better prepared.”

Arran suppressed a smile. “Aye, you’re a funny lass, and no mistake.”

“I try.”

“Hmm. Well, we should get some sleep. It’s going to be a cold night, and we’ll need to be up and moving before the sun. Come here, I’ll tie us together again.”

Pippia wanted to protest, but there was a stern look on Arran’s face. She decided she should pick her battles. If she intended to work on Arran later, she might need to curry his favor now. So, she meekly allowed Arran to tie their wrists together again.

Arran settled himself next to her, his cloak wrapped about him and his back up against a tree, the same one Pippia had been tied to. Pippia lay down next to him on the bedroll.

It wasn’t as warm as Arran’s cloak last night, but Pippia was determined not to complain.

It wasn’t as warm as Arran’s arms, either. Pippia wriggled, trying to get comfortable, and determinedly pushed away the memory of Arran’s strong, warm arms around her, and his firm chest at her back.

That memory had reoccurred over and over again during the day, and Pippia was forced to admit that she had been imagining herself in Arran’s arms again.

She wriggled again, turning over onto her other side, pulling Arran’s arm along with her as she did so. He sighed impatiently, but when Pippia turned to look at him, his eyes were resolutely closed.

She turned again, trying to get comfortable and hopefully find a position where there wasn’t a rock digging into her back.

All of a sudden, Pippia found herself lifted off her feet and swept up and sideways. She found herself pressed up against Arran once again, her back to his chest, and the two of them facing toward the fire.

It was even more intimate and strange than their last night, and the closeness sent prickles up and down Pippia’s spine.

“For God’s sake, woman,” Arran murmured. “Settle down and go to sleep.”

Well, of course, sleep was further away for Pippia than ever. All she was aware of was Arran’s firm, muscled chest curving against her back and his warm breath tickling her ear. He was deliciously warm, and with Arran’s warmth at her back and the crackling fire in front of her, Pippia felt as if she’d never been so comfortable in her whole life. She swallowed hard.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what? Can’t sleep?”

Pippia shook her head. She twisted to look back up at Arran, and he cracked open one eye.

“Well, maybe you should start with closing your eyes.”

“Tell me a story.”

Pippia wasn’t sure where the request had come from. It was a strange thing to ask, and Arran would be well within his rights to tell her not to be so childish. His eyes were both open now, almost black in the firelight, and he was clearly wide awake.

“A story? What, you want me to make one up?”

“No, I meant something about you. Something real.”

Arran stared down at her for a long moment, and Pippia was quite sure that he was about to tell her to mind her own business. Then he spoke.

“D’you remember how I caught that knife the first time we met?”

Pippia smiled wryly. “It’s hard to forget.”