Page 50 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

But the raging storm around them wasn’t playing ball. No matter how much she tried to set herself straight, the wind had other ideas. And it wasn’t just wind. Now the snow had got started. Huge gusts from both sides buffeted her, almost bowling her over. Struggling to get upright, she careered helplessly into Niven’s arms. There, he pressed her tight, so tightly that she felt like she would never come free of his grip.

Not that she wanted to because, for the first time since they set off, she felt complete. Burying her head in Niven’s chest, Deva took a breath and sighed.

This was where she wanted to be; it felt so right to be here in his arms. And yet, any minute now, she would have to tear herself away. It would not be long until they reached the hunting lodge, and then there would be no chance at all for them.

Sorrowfully, Deva pulled out of Niven’s grip, making him look up in surprise. Softly, he tried to bring her back towards him, holding her in his arms once more.

He was so tempting. Deep inside, Deva felt herself melting. But if she stayed for one second longer in his arms, she would not be able to resist.

It was hard, but Deva wrenched herself free of his grip.

“Will ye look at this weather,” she said, trying desperately to change the subject.

Futilely, she pushed her hair back behind her ears. But the wind had other ideas, whipping it back around her head. “I just have nae idea how we’re going to make it anywhere if it stays like this…”

“Make it where?” said Niven, his tone mocking. Gently he brushed back her errant hair, this time tucking it behind her ear.

“Well, make it to the lodge, of course!” said Deva, looking at him like he was simple. She pressed her face into the whistling storm. It was so fierce she couldn’t see anything for the blast of white flying at her.

“The lodge, ye say?” said Niven, innocently looking at her, a spark dancing in his brown eyes.

Deva looked back at him keenly. “Aye, the lodge, ye ken, the reason we’re standing here in the freezing, cold,” she said, her piercing eyes resting upon him. She felt sure that he was taunting her but was not about to give in.

“The lodge, why, it is right here, madam,” said Niven, extending his arm across to the side and pointing to a hazy shape that Deva hadn’t noticed yet.

Spinning, Deva turned around, her head buzzing with the sudden movement. She still hadn’t gotten over the funny turn on the horse and wavered a little, once again resting on Niven’s arms.

He looked at her, concerned. Then, putting his arm around her tightly, he walked her towards the tumbledown cottage in front of them.

“This is the lodge?” she said, blinking as her eyes took it in fully. By now, the snow was coming down fast and was beginning to stick. Already, there was a couple of inches on the grounds surrounding the house. That was if it could be called a house. In surprise, Deva looked over at it.

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Niven, this time genuinely. He continued to walk her down the snowy path, his sturdy arms guiding her along.

Deva just looked up at him but didn’t say anything. Instead, she made her way down the narrow track to the lodge.

It was cold underfoot. And as she walked, a sliver of ice made its way into her boot, making her shiver. It was just as well they had reached their destination because now it looked as if the routes would be unpassable. Glancing about the hills, it was clear that there would be no further travel that day.

Warily, Deva wondered if Rory had already got here, but she didn’t see any evidence of it from outside the lodge. In fact, she didn’t see a whole lot at all, just a slightly ordinary crofter’s cottage that appeared to be standing bare.

Niven tied up the horses and in a nearby tree. “The Macaulay lodge welcomes ye,” he said, holding the door open for her as they came inside. Deva walked through the low entrance, casting around with her eyes.

It took her some time to acclimatize to the light, which was scant and only coming in from the small window at the end of the low roofed room.

“This is the lodge?” said Deva, for a second time. In mild disdain, she looked about the room. There was nothing; no candles burning to penetrate the gloom. Unable to see, Deva hunted for some light. Quickly, she stumbled upon a candelabrum in fine silver. Grabbing it, Deva found that its candles were still intact, so she began looking for some way of lighting it.

Smiling, Niven handed her something which, on inspection, proved to be a tinder box, beautifully engraved with the Macaulay crest.

Within minutes, the candelabrum was lit, and soon, the room was illuminated in soft tones.

“Aye,” said Niven, his curiosity raising at the tone of her voice. As the room grew brighter, Deva could see around it. Clearly, no-one had been here for some time. Thick cobwebs hung in the air, providing every dusky corner with a scurrying of spiders.

And from the look of it, insects were not the only species to have colonized the place. Undoubtedly there were mice; rats more like, if the state of the droppings in the room’s corners were anything to go by.

Seeing her look of concern, Niven approached her. “Nae scared o’ a few wee mice are ye?” he teased. Deva flashed him a look, giving him no doubt as to her feelings. Niven just laughed. Then slowly, he brought his arms over, encompassing her shoulders in their entirety.

Niven’s warm touch spread across her, tingling her shoulders and running down her spine with a delicious shiver.

They were completely alone. It was just the two of them, with nothing other than the mice and the thick, falling snow.