Page 75 of Highlander’s Burning Touch

“Hold me, Niven,” she told him, collapsing into his grip. His kiss reached her deeper still. All Deva’s senses were in overload. She was intoxicated, suddenly deaf to the world.

They both were.

She didn’t hear the door open. All she could see was his eyes as they pressed into her, soft and brown. Deva ran her fingers through his hair and sighed.

Then, a voice out of nowhere made her turn around.

It was her father.

“Deva, yer a clarty whore an’ a disgrace to the clan MacLean!”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Well, then, what’ve ye got to say, ye wee whore!”

Deva’s head was exploding. Their embrace froze as the pair turned to look at each other in horror.

The shock in the room was palpable, with every eye trained firmly on them, on her.

Deva wondered where he had come from. He was meant to be at the hunting lodge. And yet, inexplicably, he was here. Angry.

She swallowed uncomfortably, wishing she could take a sip of the wine on the table. Her throat was constricted and dry. All of a sudden, she was paralyzed, barely able to move.

There, across the room, her father glared at her. And he was not alone. Deva had not noticed the entourage behind him, but as she looked, she recognized several of the neighboring lairds. And Rory, standing right behind him.

All of them stared up at her, making her squirm intensely. Deva felt herself go cold. And then hot again. She pulled her clammy palms away from Niven in a bid to separate herself. As if the simple act of getting away from him would solve anything.

“Deva?” her father’s voice came again. She could see the look in his eyes, gleaming with hate. “I asked ye a question, ye wee strumpet! Answer me!”

“Deva, Niven, what on earth is this?” For the first time, Rory had spoken. Instantly, Niven looked up, a guilty look in his brown eyes.

Deva could sense his unease and made to push herself to the front of him.

“It wasnae his fault, sir,” she said, keeping her head pressed down. She barely dared look at him. Let alone the others.

Hot, their eyes drilled into her skin. Even without looking, she was intensely aware of it. Suddenly, she was suffocated, blanketed by the heat from the fire and their eyes.

Acid prickled up her throat, making her cough. All the same, she made herself heard.

“Sir, it wasnae his fault. He was breaking things off… please, if yer looking for someone to blame then blame, then blame me, I led him on…”

“Now why I am I nae surprised!” hissed her father, but the Macaulay laird hushed him down.

Instead, he turned to look at her more closely, focusing his gaze solely on her. Beside her, she felt Niven staring. He cleared his voice to speak, but something stopped him.

Rory turned brusquely to Niven. The look he gave him was ice-cold. Without even saying anything, Niven instantly silenced.

“Why dinnae ye tell me all about this,” Rory said, in glacial tones. Deva had never seen him like this before, his genial air replaced with an artic froideur which unnerved her.

“Sir, I,” Deva choked. Then she beseeched him with her eyes. She would explain to him, but not in front of the others.

“Come on, I want to hear it,” said Rory, in low tones. He glanced at Niven, who looked around the room.

All the surrounding lairds nodded in alliance. Then, grimly pleased with himself, Rory looked to Deva again and then to Niven.

“I want to hear it; we all do,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with fury.

“A…alright, but it isnae his fault, any of this,” Deva began. Bravely she took the plunge. Steeling herself, she was ready to tell him everything.