Chapter Seven

Dunn headed up the hillside toward Clachan nan Sìtheach .

Why would Anna be up there, in the standing stone circle?

The dog woofed low, trotting amongst the rocks and low-growing heather plants. Neacal dismounted, and looped the horse's bridle loosely on a bush. He drew his sword and followed. Dunn could've caught the scent of something else… a highwayman perhaps. The dog wasn't terribly riled as he would be if he'd smelled a wolf, but he did seem keen to search out whatever it was. He ran ahead, up the hill and underneath a stand of prickly gorse bushes. Neacal detoured around them.

A brief scream echoed through the gloaming.

Was that Anna? Neacal raced up the hill.

Dunn woofed low again and a short female laugh resounded. "Get off me, you great beast."

Anna's voice, thank the saints!

"Och, you're eating all my food!" she yelled.

Neacal rounded a boulder and found her trying to drag a satchel from Dunn as he nosed through it, wolfing down something.

"Dunn, come," Neacal commanded as he moved forward.

The dog immediately bounded to his side, happily licking his lips and wagging his tail.

Anna held an apple in each hand. "What? You don't like apples, Dunn?" she grumbled.

"God's teeth, Anna." Neacal took her arm and helped her rise to her feet. The cowl had slipped off her head and her blond hair was disheveled, half fallen down from its knot, but she had never looked more beautiful. And he had never been happier to see her. Still, he had to make her see how reckless she was being.

"Why did you leave the castle?" he demanded.

Looking perturbed, she brushed off her skirts, picked up her satchel and crammed the apples back inside. "'Tis a long story. How did you ken where to find me?" She avoided his gaze. What was she trying to hide from him?

"I questioned a few people who saw you leave."

"Blast!" she hissed beneath her breath.

"Why are you out here? Especially after what happened in the shed? You know 'tis dangerous."

Her gaze darting to him and then away, she pressed her lips tight and clamped them between her teeth. Why was she being so stubborn?

"Regardless, I must get you back to the castle where you'll be safe," he said. "There are outlaws and highwaymen about."

"Nay!" She covered her mouth, then slowly lowered her hands. "Pray pardon, but I cannot go back there now."

"Why not?"

She glanced north, in the general direction of the castle. Tension emanated from her and worry lowered her brows. She appeared to be squirming in her slippers.

"Did someone mistreat you? Insult you? Attack you?" If they did he would see them punished or banished.

"Nay. 'Tis for personal reasons," she said.

"What about your band of traveling minstrels? Surely they cannot play without your beautiful song."

"Of course they can. Harriet has a wonderful voice."

"Aye. But you're the main attraction."

A hint of a smile ghosted over her face along with a blush. "I thank you, but I'm sure they can get on without me." Dunn nosed at her hand and she petted him.

Much as Neacal hated to admit it, he did not want to get on without her. He'd missed her and not just because of her singing. Though he wished her to look into his eyes, she stared down at the dog. Again, he found himself jealous of the attention she bestowed upon the beast, not to mention the physical contact and affection… which he craved for himself.

"Everyone speaks of how much they love your singing. And I do, too, of course."

"You are too kind," Anna said, hoping the faint light of gloaming hid the blush of pleasure that covered her. Chief MacDonald certainly was a charming flatterer when he wanted to be.

She couldn't believe he had chased after her. Although his interference annoyed her, it also gave her an unexpected thrill. He'd obviously noticed her absence at the castle. This was a new sensation for her. Since she'd begun her life on the road, she'd tried to blend in as much as she could, so no one would take special notice of her. She had no choice but to earn a living singing, but she didn't enjoy the attention. Once she was finished performing each night, she wanted to retreat to the shadows and disappear.

Wanting to stare at Neacal in the twilight and delve into every detail of his captivating appearance, she forced herself not to. Instead, she glanced up the hill at the cliffs she'd intended to hide in earlier when she'd heard him approaching through the rocks. But she now saw 'twas not cliffs but massive upright stones. "What is that?"

" Clachan nan Sìtheach, " he said. "I would show it to you but I need to get you back to the castle before dark."

"I'm not going back," she blurted, staring him eye to eye.

"Why not?" he demanded, his expression turning annoyed.

She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground. "I… would rather not say."

"What happened that is worse than the risk of being taken hostage by a band of outlaws?"

Word getting back to Blackburn. She would rather die than be captured by him.

"Do you ken what they would do to you, lass?" Neacal growled low. "'Tis too horrible to think about."

She nodded, knowing he was right. Still, she was not going back to wait as a lamb to slaughter. She had not survived this long by being afraid to strike out on her own.

After a long moment, he must have reached some decision, for he said, "Come. I'll show you the standing stones. Hold onto my arm."

Was this some trick? Anna eyed him critically. Would he toss her over his shoulder and force her back to the castle?

"You don't trust me?" he asked, still waiting, his elbow extended toward her.

"Of course, I do." He'd saved her life, after all. But that didn't mean she wanted to tell him her every secret. She laced her arm through his brawny one. Even though he wore a doublet over his shirt, the defined muscles beneath the layers of fabric were obvious. Clinging to him, she found it easier to move among the rocks and low-growing bushes of gorse and heather.

"Are you not chilled?" she asked. "A cool wind has been blowing this eve and I'm glad for my thick cloak."

"You call this cool?" He shook his head. "Dunn and I often swim in the icy loch."

She shivered at the thought. "How on earth do you tolerate that?"

"I've grown used to it. The cold water improves the constitution and strength. I've done it since I was a lad."

"I admire your fortitude," she said dryly, though she did indeed admire everything about him, especially his strength, resilience and bravery, his gentleness and good heart. "Tavia said you also like to run and climb mountains."

"Aye, it increases endurance during battle."

She had seen the men dashing back and forth across the bailey and along the loch's shore as part of their training, at his behest, no doubt. He was a stern taskmaster when it came to readying his soldiers for battle.

Most clans had a runner or two, a man who carried messages, sprinting through glens and over hills and mountains. Such men trained every day to build up their stamina to quickly deliver missives for their chiefs, traveling over perilous terrain too dangerous for horses. Though she had never heard of a laird who had trained like a messenger, she could believe it, given his tall, lean and muscular frame. He obviously demanded more of himself than he did his men.

As they reached the crest of the hill, she could not believe the height of the monoliths before her. "They're stunning," she whispered, the wind carrying the sounds away.

"Have you seen a standing stone circle before?" he asked.

"A very small one with short stones. Naught like this. 'Tis impressive." She glanced around, counting thirteen stones. The tallest must have been at least twelve feet.

Neacal led her inside the ring. "My sister loves it here. Years ago, when no one could find her at the castle, I knew she would be here."

"Did your clan build this?"

"Nay," he said. "One legend says the fairies built it. Another says 'twas the ancient ones—a race of people who lived here before our own—who built it thousands of years ago."

A sense of wonder and mystery suffused her as she tried to imagine what had happened on this site in the past and how people could have erected such large stones.

"Does it possess magic?" she asked.

Neacal shrugged one broad shoulder. "The elders claim it does, and most of our clan members steer clear of it for fear of being cursed. But when Maili and I were children, we'd often slip off and visit this place to see if we could see fairies. I've never noticed anything unusual hereabouts."

Anna walked toward the middle of the ancient monument. "Why did they build it?"

"No one knows, but we believe this is a sacred site."

"'Tis lovely," Anna breathed, shivering at the sharp prickle that raced over her body. Was this merely because she was standing beside a most handsome and tantalizing Highlander? Or did these rocks contain a spell?

Something compelled her to touch the central stone, which was more than twice her height. When she did, an even more intense tingle shook her.

"Saints," she breathed.

"'Tis an ancient stone." Neacal brushed his fingers over the surface.

"Aye," she whispered. Beneath her hand, the stone felt polished by the wind, rain, ice and snow, but part of it was covered in rough lichens. "I wonder what the world was like when these were erected."

"Probably far different from now." He lowered his gaze to hers and held it there. What was he thinking? Although she knew she should look away, something wouldn't allow her to take her gaze from his. His eyes had turned the color of a midnight sky. She could not fathom his expression but 'twas captivating and forceful.

After a long, tense moment, he slipped a hand around her neck, leaned forward and brushed his warm lips across hers. Her breath fled and she was instantly lost to sensation. Wondering what he would taste like, she flicked out her tongue. He tasted of potent, luscious male and she wanted to savor him for eternity.

He growled deep in his throat, bent and lifted her against him. Oh, heavens! Her head spun from the movement and his disorienting kiss. She threw her arms around his neck and desperately held on. He consumed her mouth with a compelling hunger she had never before experienced. What on earth caused such sharp passion? Something about him heightened her senses, made her profoundly aware of him. His bewitching scent, his delicious taste, and the hardness of his muscles melted her inside.

He overwhelmed her with devouring kisses and she craved a deeper connection to him. His hands beneath her derriere, her legs encircling his waist, he leaned her back against the smooth hard surface of the stone and took the kiss to new heights. She could no longer think; she could only feel all the wondrous sensations he was raining down upon her, body and soul.

"Anna, you drive me mad," he breathed against her mouth.

What could she say to that? She had no response, except to seek out more mind-stealing kisses. And he indulged her, moaning against her mouth.

After a blissful moment, he rasped, "Saints." He lowered her to her feet. "I must stop this."

Nay! She wanted to yell, fisting her hand on his sleeve to steady herself, lest she topple to the ground.

What was wrong with her? She was neither a loose woman nor a tavern wench.

He affected her so strongly, her knees were weak. Why did she allow this to happen?

Mortified at her own overly enthusiastic response to his affections, she crossed her arms and stared at the ground… but she sensed his attention focused on her. Her rational thoughts returning by slow degrees, she felt almost as if she'd been tipsy.

"Where were you headed at gloaming, alone?" he asked.

He would not leave that question alone, would he? Since she had no ready answer, her lips remained sealed.

"You must tell me," he persisted. "I'll tell no one." His voice was huskier than it had been before the kiss. "Do you trust me?"

"Aye, I told you I do." She glanced up at him, realizing how profound her trust was for him. He'd saved her life, twice. Still, she didn't know what he would do when he learned of her secret past. She had never told anyone about it. The only people who knew were the ones who'd been with her when it happened.

She could tell him where she was headed, at least. He'd likely already figured that out anyway. "I was going to Acharacle."

"Why?"

She blew out an exasperated breath and decided to lie. "I had a disagreement with the other minstrels." She could think of no better excuse… except for the truth, which he could never find out.

"Disagreement about what?" he asked.

"'Tis a long story."

"What would you do in Acharacle? 'Tis but a wee village."

"Hopefully sing for my supper. 'Tis all I ken how to do."

Oh, blast! She shouldn't have said that, for it might reveal that she was not from the working class peasants who generally possessed a great many labor skills. A lady was trained in needlework, music, singing, running a household, and a few other things. Most of which were useless outside of a castle.

"You wish to sing in a tavern?" he asked, his tone disbelieving, his brows quirked.

"Not in truth, but if I have to…"

"Do you not know what sort of men you would run into in a tavern? Men seeking more than ale and fine music."

Heat rushed into her face because she knew from experience he was right. She and the other minstrels had sung in taverns several times. They'd had a few run-ins with disagreeable men. "I would've asked the proprietor to protect me from his customers as part of the employment," Anna said.

"And who would protect you from the proprietor should he take advantage?"

She hunched her shoulders, for she had not considered the possibility. In the past, the three male minstrels in their group had kept bad men at bay. But she hadn't thought this whole thing through before she'd left. She simply knew she had to get away from Chief Hamilton. She did have the knife she'd lifted from the kitchen. She could defend herself with it, but if she should kill a man in the process, she might be tossed into the tolbooth prison or even executed. She well knew a woman traveling alone was vulnerable, but she'd had little choice.

"You could've stayed at the castle, regardless of an argument with the other musicians," Neacal said.

She could not hide in the castle forever. It was filled to overflowing and a servant would find her no matter where she went.

"I didn't wish to cause trouble," she said.

"You wouldn't."

He was wrong there, for trouble followed her wherever she went. She had to change the subject and remove the focus from her. "Have you chosen any of the young ladies as your bride?"

"Nay," he said sharply. "Nor will I. The elders are wasting everyone's time."

She observed him in the gradually deepening dusk. His dark brows lowered over his midnight blue eyes. So serious… she couldn't resist teasing him.

"Most chiefs want a pretty young wife." She kept a straight face, for 'twas true.

He glared at her for a long moment, then glanced away. "Aye, well. I'm not most chiefs. I plan to wait until next year, at least. Why should I become chief and get married all within a month's time? I see no need to rush."

"I agree." An odd thrill spiraled through her. Why should she care if the chief married? She certainly couldn't marry him. She cared because of those bonfire hot kisses he'd bestowed upon her. What did they mean? She had no inkling and never should've let them happen. But how could she stop him? When he had leaned toward her, as if seeking sensual sustenance, everything in her sang with delight and anticipation. He gave her joy such as she had not experienced in years.

"Anna?"

"Aye?" Had he been speaking to her while she was woolgathering about him? Her face burned.

"Where are you from, lass?" he asked, his voice sincere.

"The east," she blurted.

"Who is your clan or family?"

"Douglas." At least her grandmother had been a Douglas. She supposed that made her a distant part of the clan.

"Are you a widow?"

"Aye." She was being honest. The one man who had been her true husband was dead. She didn't consider Blackburn her husband.

"What was your husband's name?"

"Richard Douglas." She almost choked on the made-up name, even though this was the same lie she'd been telling everyone for the past couple of years. She couldn't tell anyone her husband's real name, John MacCromar, for then they might ken her identity and where she was from. Blackburn had put the word out that he was searching for his missing wife. She had even seen his men searching for her in Edinburgh at one time. Regardless of the necessity of making up these stories and false names, guilt bored through her at lying to Neacal. He'd been naught but helpful to her… and caring.

"Which clan were you born into?"

"My father was a merchant in Aberdeen. He was a Forbes but we were not exactly part of a clan like you have here." She bit her lip… punishment for more lies? If only he would stop asking the hard questions, she could stop telling him these falsehoods.

"I wish you would tell me the whole story of why you left Bearach," Neacal said.

She shook her head. "I cannot involve you in my problems." Finally, the truth. He had been so horribly injured in the past she would never wish to draw him into the danger and violence that followed her.

"'Tis part of my duties to solve problems," he muttered. "I'm not so bad at it once people let me know what the problem actually is."

She gave a small, sad smile, wishing she could tell him all.

"Determined to be stubborn, aye?" He lifted a brow, his gaze searching, trying to delve into her thoughts.

She shrugged.

His gaze sharpened upon her, as if he'd gained a sudden insight. "The reason you left… has it something to do with the visitors?"

Alarm spiked through her. "Nay." Saints, how had he figured it out? He was too brilliant for her peace of mind. 'Haps her hated lies were all for naught anyway. What if he saw right through them? Feeling doubly guilty, she shook her head. He had treated her better than anyone, and it flayed her to keep lying to him. But she couldn't tell him part of the truth without revealing all.

"You still want to go to Acharacle?" he asked.

"Aye." What choice did she have?

"Very well. I'll escort you there." He glanced up at the slate gray sky. "We may be able to reach the village before full dark. I know the tavern's owner. I'll speak to him about hiring you."

"Is he a good man?" she asked, remembering what he'd said earlier.

Neacal shrugged. "As far as I know. I've only talked to him a few times. We're not close friends."

"Why did you suggest the proprietor might take advantage of me?"

"You never know, do you? A lovely woman can make a man do insane things." His gaze darkened upon her.

A rush of heat consumed her face, for his comment was indeed flattering, and he was having some silver-tongued-devil moments, which she hadn't expected from him. But at the same time, he implied that her looks would cause men to behave in dishonorable ways. "I don't know whether to thank you or stomp your toe."

He snorted, only a hint of amusement showing in the easing of his expression. "I'm trying to be serious, lass. You cannot trust everyone. Simply because a man owns a business does not make him a good person."

"I'm well aware, but you were trying to scare me."

"Nay, only warn you to be cautious, especially when traveling alone like this."

"Well, I thank you for agreeing to take me to the village. 'Tis very generous of you."

Looking disgruntled, Neacal gave a brief bow, then extended his elbow to her. Though sad she had to disappoint him, she took his arm and again relished the solid feel of his muscles.

They descended the hillside, Dunn trotting in front. When they reached the horse, Neacal lifted her onto the pillion cushion behind the saddle, then mounted himself. She could not believe how strong he was. He'd effortlessly lifted her as if she weighed no more than a child.

"Hold on well, lass," he murmured, glancing back at her.

She did not even mind him calling her lass. In fact, she enjoyed it, for it made her feel several years younger, as she did before she'd married. Like a girl instead of a woman in her twenties. She slid both hands around his lean waist, trying not to let her fingers linger on his firm, rippled muscles.

With the gait of the horse, his hard body moved against hers, doing insane things to her. It had been so long, she'd forgotten how wonderful a man's body could feel against her. It was something that defied explanation. Why should she care what he felt like?

Maybe because he had kissed her twice.

Why would he do that? She knew he must find her attractive, but how could he think her more appealing than the bonny young girls who had come to potentially marry him? She had seen them, and some of them were stunning. Mayhap because he wasn't interested in marriage, but instead a mere physical liaison. She could not become someone's lover, even a most gorgeous chief. Heat consumed her whole body at the thought.

***

Neacal could hardly believe how the light touch of Anna's hands at his waist, holding on while they rode, aroused him until he was near insane with it. If she but moved her hand a wee bit south, she might encounter more than she bargained for.

Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he thought back about the young ladies who had come as bride candidates. Not one of them sparked his interest as Anna did. In fact, he could hardly remember any of their faces. They were just girls… most likely girls who were terrified of him. And he didn't care. He didn't want to calm any of their fears. He didn't plan to go near them.

But with Anna, 'twas a different story. She did not fear him, and 'haps she halfway trusted him. At least, physically she did, but she still would not reveal her secrets. He would get the whole story out of her, one way or another. It might take a lot of time, which he didn't mind at all. He wanted to spend more time alone with her. That was why he hadn't forced her back to the castle.

The tavern in Acharacle popped into his mind. The Red Stag had a couple of small rooms over it, for rental. Damnation. He could think of naught but carrying her up the stairs to a private chamber. But he couldn't do that. She was a respectable woman.

Still, the kiss against the standing stone would not leave his thoughts. He had been entranced… transported to a realm where only sensation and Anna reigned. He could've happily stayed there forever, exploring every inch of her. But that was impossible—he muttered another curse—or was it? The elders wanted him to get married. Why couldn't he marry Anna? If she would have him.

He knew why he shouldn't marry her. His bride was supposed to bring an abundance of soldiers or wealth to the MacDonald clan. Anna could not do that. At least, he didn't think she could. She obviously had no money or clan or she wouldn't be a traveling minstrel. If she was a wealthy widow, she would be tucked away somewhere in a manor house with many servants waiting on her. She would not need to sing for a living. The elders would never approve of Anna as a wife for him, but what did he care? He'd been a rebel for most of his life. Why stop now?

Anna could bring something to his life he'd never expected… happiness. Though he should not even think of happiness, for he didn't deserve it, he couldn't help himself. Once he'd experienced the joy of her presence, he found he was addicted to it.

Anna's fingers pressed lightly against his stomach, completely distracting him, bringing sensations of what her soft, gentle hands would feel like running all over him. Stroking. Caressing.

Saints!

He breathed deeply and tried to dispel the excitement and lust rampaging through his veins. He had not been so keenly interested in a woman in years, if ever. And now he would marry her… if she was willing. Because of her eager kisses, he thought she would be.

Maili had married the man she chose. Neacal could've said nay and forced her to marry some old and powerful chief who wanted to be an ally, but why should he force his beloved sister to live a miserable life? He wouldn't do it to her, so why would he do it to himself? If he had to sacrifice all for the clan, 'haps being chief wasn't his destiny.

When they reached the outskirts of the village, full dark had fallen but the moon shone brightly. The torches and glow from the windows seemed welcoming. Neacal would rent two rooms for the night at the tavern. He would talk to the proprietor about allowing her to stay here for a few days, until Neacal figured out why she should wish to leave Bearach. Surely, it had something to do with the clans who were visiting. Once he'd sent them on their way, he would come back here and retrieve Anna.

In front of the tavern, he dismounted, then helped her down.

"Wait here with Dunn while I speak with the proprietor," Neacal said.

"Very well," she said, blushing and looking highly uncomfortable.

"Is aught amiss?"

"Nay." She shook her head but would not meet his gaze. Instead, she glanced around at the village.

She needed someone to protect her, someone she could rely on. Something deep within him clawed upward toward the light, grasping, yearning to be that man. His stomach knotting, he shoved the greedy sensation away and tried to appear normal.

"I'll be right back," he told her, then strode into the Red Stag Tavern and glanced around the near empty room. 'Twas late and most people had gone home. The owner, Korbin MacDonald, stood behind the bar.

"Chief MacDonald," the stocky man greeted with a friendly smile, then came forward. His brownish-gray hair and beard were a bit longer than the last time Neacal had seen him. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

Neacal shook his hand. "I'm helping a young woman. Could we rent both of your rooms for the night?"

"So happens I only have one room left, but you're welcome to it free of charge." The man winked.

Damnation, he thought Neacal wanted to entertain Anna… which, he was ashamed to realize, wasn't far from the truth. But he couldn't take advantage of her. "I'll be happy to pay for it."

"Nay, I insist. 'Tis a gift for our new chief."

"I appreciate it, but the young woman, Anna Douglas, will need to stay here for several days, perhaps a sennight or two. I'll be glad to pay."

"Well, then, the first two nights are on me." Korbin glanced toward the entrance, his eyes widening.

Neacal turned to find Anna approaching, her cowl lowered, revealing her lustrous blond hair. He muttered a curse beneath his breath. He'd wanted her to stay outside until he had things arranged.

"I'll sing in exchange for room and board," Anna said.

"Sing?" Korbin asked. "You're a minstrel, then?"

"Indeed, I am."

"She and her friends have been entertaining us at Bearach Castle for a while," Neacal said.

"Ah." Korbin raised his brows, giving Neacal a devilish look.

Damn the man. Could he not get his mind out of the drainage ditch?

"There is no need for you to sing," Neacal told Anna. "I'll cover your room and board."

She shook her head, her stubborn gaze meeting his. "I insist on supporting myself."

Refusing to argue with her here, he turned to Korbin. "Anyway, I need for you to watch out for her and protect her while she's here. As you can see, she's a bonny lass and men tend to want to take advantage of her. See that doesn't happen and I'll pay you well."

"As you wish, chief." Korbin bowed.

Anna's face was the blush-pink color of rose petals while her lips reminded him of ripe strawberries. He had a keen craving for her mouth.

"Have you a horse you need to stable?" Korbin asked.

"Indeed. I'll go get my belongings first."

"Nonsense. I'll send my son. Please, have a seat at the bar." Korbin stuck his head into the back room. "William."

A lad in his late teens or early twenties appeared—a younger version of Korbin—with dark hair and thin, short whiskers. "Aye." His gaze slid past Neacal and focused on Anna with great interest.

Damnation, she was too beautiful by far. Such a woman could not travel alone. She was sure to be accosted at every turn by young lads, graybeards and every male in between.

"This is the new Chief MacDonald from Bearach. Chief, my second son, William."

Finally focusing on Neacal, the young man bowed. "I'm glad to meet you, m'laird."

"A pleasure." Neacal shook his hand.

"Retrieve his things from his horse, then feed and stable it for him," Korbin instructed.

"I also have my wolfhound, Dunn, outside," Neacal said. "Can you feed him as well, and give him a place to sleep in the stables near my horse?"

"Indeed." William hastened away.

When Korbin asked Neacal and Anna if they wanted supper, both declined for they'd eaten earlier.

"Well then, I'll show you to your room, Mistress Douglas. I would send my wife but she's injured. Tripped and sprained her ankle. Hasn't been able to walk since."

"Oh, I hope she recovers quickly," Anna said.

While Korbin carried the key and led the way up the stairs, Neacal took a seat at the bar, watching Anna. He wanted to follow but he couldn't. 'Twould not be acceptable at all.

William brought his bedroll, bow and arrows inside and placed them nearby.

"I thank you." Neacal gave him a silver coin.

The lad, looking pleased, rushed outside.

A few minutes later, Korbin returned and poured a pint of ale for Neacal. "I started a fire in the hearth for her. I'm sorry I don't have a second room for you, chief. A family traveling through took the other room. But there is a pallet on the floor of Mistress Douglas' room, or you can sleep here in the common room. I would give you my own chamber in the back but my wife has been in bed for two days. My oldest son, his wife and five wee bairns occupy the cottage out back."

"'Tis all right," Neacal said. "I have my bed roll. I'll sleep here in the common room. I'm no stranger to sleeping on a floor." Neacal took a deep drink of the ale, thinking of Anna. "The lass might want some refreshment."

"Indeed. I'll take her some spiced wine. 'Twill help her sleep, I vow."

"I thank you."

The man prepared a jug of wine and a goblet.

"Korbin!" A woman screeched from the back room.

He sighed loudly. "'Tis my wife."

"Go. See to her. I'll take the wine to Mistress Douglas."

"Much obliged, chief." Korbin disappeared into the back room. "What is it now, Ellie?" he grumbled.

Neacal picked up the small wine tray and headed up the steps. He feared Anna might already be undressed and in bed. Or was it hope that he felt? Whatever it was, his heart rate sped up.

You must be a gentleman, he told himself just before he knocked.

A few seconds later, the door opened and Anna peered out with wide green eyes. She was still fully dressed and had only removed her cloak. He was not certain whether he was relieved or disappointed.

Damnation. Stop being such a rogue!

"Would you care for some refreshment?" he asked. "'Tis spiced wine."

"Oh. I thank you." She opened the door and stepped back, surprising him.

Hell. Should he enter and face the most intense temptation of his life? Or stand here like a green lad?

A red flush covered her face. "I'm sorry, m'laird. I'm not thinking." She reached for the tray.

He bypassed her and entered the room. "Don't be sorry." He set the tray on the small table, uncorked the wine and poured a generous helping into the goblet. "Are you certain you wouldn't like a small meal? Korbin must have something left from supper."

"Nay, I'm not hungry, but I thank you." She closed the door and stepped forward. "You must have some wine, too."

After a quick perusal of the chamber, he saw no other drinking vessels. "Nay. I've already had ale." He handed her the goblet.

She slowly lifted it and took a sip. "Mmm." She licked her lips. "'Tis delicious and heavily spiced."

He glanced away toward the low-burning fire in the tiny hearth but the image of her licking her lips would not leave his mind. Damnation, he should exit with all haste, but he sensed she didn't wish him to. Of a certainty, he didn't want to go. Instead, he thirsted for a taste of the wine on her lips.

"I don't mind if you try a sip," she said, offering the goblet. Although the look in her eyes was innocent, a spark of boldness lurked there, perhaps even a coy flirtation.

He stared at her luscious rosy lips, which lured and tormented him, then he forced himself to drop his gaze to the wine. Deciding 'twould be more sensible to taste the wine from the goblet rather than from her lips, he took the drinking vessel from her and swallowed a generous sip. The spicy-sweet flavor was seductive and he longed even more to taste it upon her lips. Arousal surged through him at the thought.

"Aye, 'tis a fine vintage." He handed the wine back to her, then paced to the window and looked out into the torch-lit dimness. All appeared quiet and peaceful, but what if someone decided to break into her room? He had nowhere else to sleep this night, except the common room, and he needed to protect her.

He turned, forcing his gaze to the pallet near the fireplace, rather than the bed. "Do you mind if I sleep here on the floor, in front of the door to guard you?"

Her face blanched. "Why? Is it not safe?"

"I have no inkling. Korbin said a family occupied the other room. Hopefully they are good, honest folk."

"Do you not have a room?"

"Nay, this is the only one available."

She gasped. "I didn't know that. You must take this room. I insist."

"Nay. Don't be ridiculous. I have my bedroll. I could stay downstairs in the common room, but I would sleep better knowing you're protected."

"Well then…" She glanced around. "You should take the bed and I'll sleep on that pallet by the fireplace."

He shook his head, refusing to argue the point further. If she didn't hush, they would both be getting no sleep in the bed after he silenced her with a kiss.

A kiss. Hell. He should not have imagined such an indulgence. The memory of when he'd kissed her at the stones… the warm wetness of her mouth intoxicated him. But he didn't wish to merely seduce her. His soul had somehow become tangled up with hers, enmeshed. Without her, he would be as stark as an oak stub without its limbs, leaves or acorns.

He wanted to marry her. The sharp truth of it sliced through his awareness, cutting away the needless clutter. Never in his life had he even considered marrying anyone, but to imagine not having this amazing woman as his wife was inconceivable. Somehow she had become as vital to him as the air he breathed. Her beautiful light pulled his soul out of the dark abyss.

"Anna." On impulse, he turned.

"Aye?" She observed him with questioning eyes.

He tried to steady his hands as he took the goblet from her and placed it on the table, then led her to the chair. "Please, have a seat."

"Very well. I hope you'll sit, too."

He didn't. He knelt before her. God help him. He hoped he could do this right.

Alarm reflected in her wide eyes. "What are you doing?"

He took her hand, so small and delicate. He stroked her soft palm with his thumb. "Anna." He stared into her lovely green eyes… so startled and confused. He felt the same way. A moment of hesitation struck him and he dropped his gaze. He was too damaged, mind and body, for someone as perfect as her. Why on earth would she want him? He was a chief, he reasoned. He could provide for her and protect her. He would cherish her all the days of his life; that should count for something.

"What is it?" she whispered, closing her fingers around his.

He lifted his gaze and saw his whole world in her eyes. His future… and suddenly he knew without her he would have no future. "Will you be my wife?"