Page 178 of Wicked Highland Heroes

St. Claire rose. She noticed a long scar on his right side before he turned toward the hearth. Another, longer, scar slashed across his left shoulder blade, and yet another small scar marred the flesh above the waistband of his hose. He set his mug on the table beside the tub and continued to the hearth. The fire had burned down considerably.

He knelt on one knee and stoked the fire. “Roberts left with little trouble.”

St. Claire grabbed a log from the stack beside the fireplace and tossed it onto the burning coals. Rhoslyn couldn’t tear her gaze from the play of muscle in his back. She estimated him to be about thirty-three years old, yet his body was better muscled than many men ten years his junior. That’s what came of a lifetime of war.

“How did you know I left the convent?” she asked.

“Your grandfather made the mistake of sending two dozen men to escort you. Then he went to Longford Castle. News of such a large company of men travels fast.”

“How could you know the men were coming for me? He could have been sending them elsewhere.”

He twisted his head and met her gaze. “Somewhere else? Such as?”

Nothing came immediately to mind. She had been sequestered in the convent for fourteen months. She knew nothing of current politics. He went back to tending the fire and she found that his quick dismissal piqued her pride. The man was too sure of himself.

His attention fixed on something amongst the coals. Rhoslyn followed the turn of his head and spied a piece of gray cloth—a fragment of the dress that hadn’t burned. Mortification washed over her. She tensed in anticipation of his question, but he jabbed the fabric closer to the coals so that it caught and blazed beneath the logs. He leaned the poker against the stone, then rose.

“Mayhap you should return to bed.”

For an instant, she pictured herself naked beneath the blankets and him climbing into bed beside her. Fear slashed through her.

“I have work,” he said.

Rhoslyn frowned. “What?”

He pointed to the desk in the alcove near the door. “I have work. You need not worry about me coming to your bed.”

What work could he possibly have? But she decided she didn’t want to know. He approached and took the mug from her. She nodded thanks, then crawled across the mattress and lay atop the remaining blanket. He strode toward the desk and disappeared from view.

Blanket still wrapped around her, she closed her eyes.