The Highlander's Lady (11 page)

“Wait,” he said. Daniel reached for her meat and using the dirk
from the strap at
his hip sliced away the burnt parts, tossing it in the brazier
where it sizzled
. “Ye dinna want to eat that part.”

“Thank ye,” she said shyly.

Daniel nodded and picked up the jug of whisky, the scent of it making his mouth water. He poured them each a healthy portion—although his was double the amount he poured for her.

Myra set down the piece of meat she nibbled on and lifted the cup to her lips, slick with oil. Daniel wrenched his eyes away, unable to stop the flood of thoughts that her shiny lips brought on.

He downed the cup he’d poured for himself in two healthy swallows, then refilled.
The whisky tasted like arse
. ’Twas going to be a long night.

The piece of meat—Myra wasn’t sure what kind—tasted
like warmed over excrement. But that didn’t stop her from shoveling it bite after bite into her mouth.

Nerves did that. She chewed fast, choked it down her gullet and heaped
in some more. Opposite her, Daniel threw down one whisky after another. Mayhap she should switch to
simply drinking
whisky
and avoiding the fare.
He
definitely
appear
ed a lot more relaxed tha
n
when he’d first come in. The crease on his brow had receded and instead of staring at her like she had horns growing out of her head, he seemed to have found a particular
interest
in the brazier.

Myra reached for the jug of whisky. Too late, Daniel reached for it too. His hand circled over hers as she grasped the thin neck of the jug. Large, warm hands.

He yanked back as though she’d burned him, his stunned eyes meeting hers.

“Apologies, I didna realize ye were thirsty,” he said, his voice low.

Myra smiled, trying to deflect the awkward
situation
she found herself in. There was something familiar about Daniel, the fact that she felt she could be herself around him was odd.
She supposed it was simply having him trust she wouldn’t kill him, his easy assessment and acceptance of her.
But she couldn’t place wh
ere she would have ever met him, and determined that she must not have.

He was unforgettable.

Where had that thought come from?

She poured herself a little whisky, realizing at the last second that there appeared to already be some in her cup. Oh well. A whole cup of whisky wouldn’t hurt her
,
would it?

Myra
shrugged
and took a long sip.

“Christ!” she shouted out.

Daniel’s eyes popped open.

“Oh, my… I’m sorry, Daniel. ’Tis the whisky. It burns!” She slammed the cup down, her fingers coming to press against her lips, the reason twofold. The burning did not recede, and ’twas probably God’s way of punishing her for taking his name in vain.

“No need to apologize, lass. Ye were startled.”

Myra only nodded, grateful for him letting her little slip go, but also confused. When he’d let her sip whisky before it hadn’t burned this bad, and the few sips she’d taken at Foulis hadn’t either.

“This wh
isky is not as good quality as
mine,” he said. “Not aged long enough, I suspect. Or maybe the distiller is simply no good at his trade.” Daniel shrugged and took another sip,
giving the impression of not caring
too much either way at the flavor.

His words clarified things somewhat. Myra felt her body warming. A tingling warmth that started in her belly and spread outward. She kind of liked it.

“Me too,” Daniel said.

Had she truly voiced her words aloud?

“
Aye
, ye did, lass.”

Clamping her lips shut, Myra reached for the cup again. She took another long sip. It still burned, but this time, she was prepared for it, reveled in it.

Confidence
came
with the warmth. She felt… Myra didn’t know. She couldn’t describe it. Strong? That was part of it, but she felt something else. Gazing at the man she’d handfasted to earlier in the day, she felt something entirely different.

Brazen. Her entire body tingled now, and her arms and legs had minds of their own and wished desperately to wrap themselves around the hunk of brawn sitting across from her.

“Oh,” she gasped as her nipples hardened.
Sensations she’d never before experienced whipped through her, making her feel heady, hungry for the taste of Daniel’s lips.

This would not do.

She shoved the cup of whisky away. No more.

The drink was turning her into a wanton. A woman with little morals.

But was it truly wrong to want to touch Daniel? She had promised to be his wife after all. They would be together for
the rest of their lives. They’d sworn to it in the woods and in the spring they’d swear to it before God.

She shoved the cup even further away.

Nay.

The plan was
not
to be with him forever.

Myra needed to get to Eilean Donan alive. Unscathed. And still a maid.

She would relay her news to the Bruce and then return to Foulis where she’d take up her position as laird until Rose birthed Byron’s heir. Then her future would be decided.

Daniel was only a means to get to the Bruce. He would keep her safe. Be her guide.

That was all.

Clenching her thighs together, she was not at all pleased with the heat and tingling that grew between them. She squeezed tighter hoping to quell it but
that
only
made
the hunger emanating from the apex of her thighs grow.

What hold did he have on her? Was the whisky poisoned? Meant to seduce her?
A magical love potion?

She glanced at Daniel out of the corner of her eye. He sipped casually on the whisky and again stared at the brazier. What was he thinking?

“Daniel,” she started, but stopped when he jerked his gaze back to hers.

His eyes were dark, intense. She felt as though he could see right into her soul.

“Do ye dance?” he asked.

She nodded slowly. “Aye.”

“Would ye care to dance with me?”

“But there is no music.
”

“There is. Listen.”

Myra closed her eyes and could hear the faint sound of someone
playing the pipes
.

“May I?” he asked, suddenly closer.

She opened her eyes and found him standing right in front of her. She could smell him—earthy, leather, all man.

Myra placed her hand in his before she could think not to, again struck with the sheer size of him. Daniel had to be a giant. Highlanders were typically tall, but Daniel stood easily six inches above the tallest man she’d seen.

He gently pulled her to standing, tucked her close to him so that the heat of his body wrapped around her like a warm, sensual blanket. She had to keep herself from shivering. It didn’t work. Her skin prickled, and Myra bit her lip to keep from sighing as her body molded perfectly to his. Daniel’s hand wound around her waist in the back, the other holding her hand in his.

He started the steps of a dance she’d only danced once before. At Foulis.
A sensual, wicked dance.

With—

Zounds!

Myra knew exactly why Daniel
was
so familiar now.

Chapter Nine

M
yra stiffened in Daniel’s arms.

She could tell he noticed the change when he
started to take a step back, but Myra sank back into him. She didn’t want him to ask why she’d moved away. Then she’d have to confess.

Confessing was on
her
list
of things she
never
wanted to do, along with jumping off a cliff. Myra wasn’t spoiled by any means, but when she didn’t want to do something, she always attempted to get out of it. Besides, wasn’t she allowed to have some secrets?

Somehow over the
past couple of
years she’d been able to completely thrust this man from her thoughts. How was it possible she hadn’t recognized him right away? He was bigger now. Broader, his corded muscles thicker.
Even
happened to be
more handsome—mayhap because he’d shaved the beard he once wore. H
is
dark
hair
was now
longer and most
of the time it was in his face, covering his features in shadows and making her mad with the urge to swipe it all away.
Age had done the man well, his features were more chiseled, more manly.
No doubt he still had women falling at his feet, begging to be ruined.

Myra frowned against his shoulder.

A
person did not change all that much
, even if she’d had a hard time recognizing him until he’d taken her into his arms and she’d spiraled back in time
.
Swayed with him in that same perfect rhythm that had kept her up at night for months on end.
His eyes were the same.
Crisp, passionate, deep
green
eyes. Not shallow or cold. His eyes were windows to his soul, even if he tried to shadow them. Myra had been able to see the man beneath the warrior exterior.

She’d seen it years before too.

Myra supposed she’d just not wanted to remember.
He’d broken her heart. Dashed her dreams with those eyes.

He’d not recognized her either it appeared.
That notion had relief flooding her.
She’d not ma
de much of an impression on him on their first meeting at Foulis.
She was sure of that. She’d found that out shortly after meeting him. They’d danced, just like this, their bodies swaying, the heat of him filling her. They’d laughed.

But when she’d gone to the garderobe to relieve herself, she’d stopped by her chamber, pulling out a linen square that she’d embroidered with a thistle and her initials. She intended to give it to him as a token, hoping that he would come to call on her in the future, perhaps even speak to her brother
about a future together
. Myra had been stupid.

When she’d returned to the great hall, Daniel was surrounded by women. He made eyes with them, laughed, touched, just as he’d done to her. She was nothing special to him. He’d treated all of them the same way.
If that wasn’t a blow to her soul she didn’t know what was. Up until the moment she’d met him, Myra had never wanted to marry. Never wanted to be with a man. Not after what happened to her mother. Byron and her father had made sure she knew how awful men were. But she’d thought Daniel was different.

He wasn’t. Even if he made her heart stir still.

He’d not gone by Daniel then, he’d been called Murray, and she’d never found out his first name until meeting him in t
he woods.
Byron
had found her crying in the stairwell and sent her back to her room. Murray was deemed a womanizer just like any other man she’d found interest in. What had hurt the most though was with Daniel, she’d felt so much more than a physical attraction. He’d made her smile with his witty banter. He’d shown a genuine interest in her.

Then again, it appeared he showed genuine interest in every female.

Myra frowned, her brow furrowing so tight she started to get a headache. Or was that from the whisky?

Did it matter?

Now that she remember
ed
who he was, she could not continue this farce. As soon as they reached Eilean Donan, she would be rid of him. End the handfast, dash the promises of a future together.

It didn’t matter how sweet Daniel was. Or that he’d readily taken up the task of seeing to her protection. It didn’t matter that she still felt the same way only stronger. Or that his hand at her waist felt like heaven.

Except it did. All of it.

Tears stung her eyes.

Dinna cry. Dinna cry. Ballocks!

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and Myra turned her gaze toward the ground so Daniel wouldn’t catch sight of it. She continued
to sway in his arms,
pretending as though there was nothing amiss. He didn’t need to know she’d realized they’d met before.

Or that he’d broken her heart.

How foolish and naïve she’d been.

Well, she was no longer! Nay, now Myra was a woman full grown. A laird in fact. And she’d best start acting the part. Starting now.

She disentangled herself from Daniel and took a step back. Shoulders squared she forced a smile at him.

“Laird Murray, I do believe ’tis time for bed.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at her, but did not say anything. Most likely he’d been thinking they’d end this night with a bedding. Oh how she enjoyed disappointing him. He took her hand in his and she suppressed a shudder, although her knees felt very weak.

Daniel raised her hand to his lips and Myra bit her tongue. She wanted to shout for him to let go, not to—

Oh, sweet, lord in Heaven.

His lips brushed her knuckles. H
ea
t. Sensuality embodied and all her thoughts of restraint, of irritation dissipated. Myra could feel her muscles relaxing, only to have her belly coil tightly. Her thighs quivered as his breath lingered on her flesh, and that one simple touch of his lips on her skin sent a hot current to race through her arm to her breasts.

She held her breath but couldn’t yank away.

Daniel picked up her other hand.

Oh, nay! She couldn’t have him repeating that move with her other hand, but she was helpless to stop him. Some part of her wanted him to kiss her hand. To feel the brush of his lips against her, even if it was such a simple, innocent move.

Ha! Innocence had nothing to do with it.

He kissed her other hand, his lips brushing tenderly against the knuckles until Myra was sure she’d swoon. She yanked her hand back so forcefully she lost her balance. Quick as lightning, Daniel reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her.

Myra he
l
d in a groan as he pulled her tight, his hard belly flattening to hers and something else hard, long and… Oh, my…

He pressed
it
against her hip. ’Twas impressive. Frightening.

She knew exactly what that was. Listening in behind the walls of Foulis she’d learned a lot.

Why now was she so curious though? She blinked rapidly trying to get visions of what his male parts would look like out of her mind.

Heat filled her face and she was sure she looked as red as a berry.

“Are ye all right, lass?”

“Pe—” She cleared her throat as her voice caught. “Perfectly.” Myra shoved against him, standing tall. “Now, if ye will please leave me, I’d like to get some rest.”

“I’m
not
going anywhere.”

“What?” she faltered. “Ye must.”

“We’ve handfasted, lass. Everyone here believes we’re truly wed. I’ll not leave this room until the morn.”

She was going to be stuck with him in this room all night? Dizziness consumed her. Myra teetered back to her chair and sat down heavily. She was in over her head. Too much had happened. There had barely been a chance for her to grieve for her brother, for those in her clan who’d perished. She’d not even let the idea of becoming laird and being wholly responsible for all Munros sink in yet. And Rose. She’d just left her with the Sutherlands, not even sure that she was safe within those walls, even if Byron said she would be.

Byron had once thought Ross was trustworthy. Now he was dead.

Her heart fluttered painfully, and she felt all the blood in her head rush to her toes. Myra leaned back against the wooden chair, hot then cold, then hot again. Her fingers trembled and her lips went numb. Her vision grew blurry. Was she about to faint? She’d never fainted before.

“Lass? Ye look a bit pale.” Daniel’s voice sounded so far away.

Myra glanced up at him, trying to gauge just where he stood. He walked toward her, looking wobbly. Or was that her eyes?

He knelt before her. Touching her knee, her hands.

“Daniel,” she managed to say. “I’m tired.”

She was suddenly desperately tired. So tired she thought she might be able to sleep for an entire week. Through the haze of her blurred vision she saw him nod. But then her eyes closed. She could still hear. Heard him murmur something but she couldn’t make out what it was. Her body moved into the air, pressed against a solid form. A comforting form. She snuggled closer.

’Twas
nice, t
his body that held her.

He lowered her to the bed, which was not as comforting. Smelled of sweat and grease. Myra yawned, her mouth stretching wide and a murmuring sound coming from her throat.

“Sleep, sweetling. I’ll be here.”

“All right,” she answered, liking the sound of his voice. Liking him calling her sweetling. Sounded almost like she was well and truly his.

What in holy hell?

Daniel stood back from the bed gazing down at Myra. She’d gone from blazing, to embarrassed maid
,
to fainting, vulnerable lass. She was an enigma. But he couldn’t stop staring. Or stop wanting her.

She danced just as well
as she did a few years ago
, her body fitting to his. Her scent filling his nose, taking over his senses. Her breasts had been pert, soft globes pressed to his chest, and when his cock had pressed against her hip…

He blew out a long breath.

He was fucked.

There was no other term for it. He was well and truly being whisked through a torrential current and any moment he’d be falling over the edge.

Myra was dangerous. When she was close he could think of nothing but her. Of being with her. Of kissing her, touching her, dancing with her.

She was a distraction. How was he supposed to be of use to Wallace and the Bruce if he was busy chasing after
her?
’Haps after they arrived and she relayed her message—with him by her side—he could send her back to Blair
Castle
while he continued with training
the men for the impending battle
.

She’d balk. He knew that. Myra balked about everything though. All he had to do was convince her that the safest, best
place for her was at his castle. She could get to know his mother, the clan, her new home and he’d return to her in the spring for their nuptials.