Page 56 of In the Highlander's Bed

In front of the door, Tad grinned wolfishly at him.

“Keep your thoughts to yourself,” he warned the dog.

Tad lowered his head, closed his eyes—and then opened one just as Constance, with a soft sigh, rolled over and snuggled into Gordon’s back.

The warmth of her body felt good. Her curves melded against him.

For a minute he dared not breathe. Tension ripped through him. He’d never been so damn hard. At that moment he’d like nothing better than to roll her on her back and bury himself to the hilt.

But his soul hungered for something more. Something he dared not name.

There was no place in his life for a woman. It was the choice he’d made. If something happened to him, he would not be able to protect her…just as he’d failed his sister.

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t curve his body to shelter hers. He was even bold enough to rest his arm over her waist, needing to holdher close, although he knew better than to go further.

Constance didn’t move.

“What have you done to us?” he whispered. And then added silently,to me?

Her answer was to sleep with the contentment borne of trust…something he’d all but forgotten.

Thirteen

“So, are you my brother’s mistress now?”

Constance was so shocked by Fiona’s question, she almost stumbled over her own feet as she carried a bundle of dry brambles and twigs toward the fire they were preparing.

She, Fiona, and Grace were doing laundry and had set up their enterprise by the edge of the loch so they wouldn’t have to carry water very far for the different tasks. Besides the water they were preparing to heat, Grace was filling a tub of cold water for rinsing.

Constance was surprised Fiona had volunteered to help. Although, to be fair, she knew that Fiona had been doing more than her shareof the work around camp since that first day. However, aware that Gordon’s sister watched her closely, Constance was thankful that Grace had volunteered, too.

It was Grace who answered Fiona’s too direct and too personal question. “You’d best be careful what you ask,” she advised. “You may not want the answer.”

“Iwantthe answer,” Fiona said. She poured another bucket of water in the kettle prepared for the fire and asked Constance again, “Are you his mistress?”

“No,” Constance replied. “And I don’t know why you even asked such a question.” She avoided Fiona’s eyes by pretending to search for the tinder box in her apron pocket.

“Because you’ve been sleeping in his tent these past two nights when you didn’t need to. He no longer has you tied to him or treats you like a prisoner. And now you are preparing to dohislaundry,” Fiona answered.

Constance finally pulled out the tinder box. “I’m doinglaundry,” she emphasized. In fact, she’d made a point of gathering a number of people’s wash to avoid just such an impression. “I’m a captive here. Why wouldn’t I be doing these things? If I was an Indian captive, I’d work from sunup to sundown.”

“Or you could be doing these things for the same reason you follow him with your eyes whenever he’s close,” Fiona suggested quietly. “Don’t think we are blind. We see how you anticipate whatever it is he needs. How you wait for him in the evening.”

“I’m usually asleep before he comes into the tent,” Constance said in her defense. “And he is usually gone before I wake.” It was true she hadn’t moved from Gordon’s tent. She didn’t want to…and she didn’t want to examine her motives too closely. It just seemed right that she be there.

Constance pulled out flint and cloth from the tinder box and tried to strike a flame. It failed because her hands shook.

Fiona knelt beside her. “I like you,” she said. “You’ve been good for all of us. But I don’t want you to forgetwhyyou are here.” She took the tinder box, flint, and cloth from Constance. “My brother’s life is dedicated to only one thing, and that is his cause.” She struck a spark and caught the cloth on fire. Leaning forward, she held it to the kindling. “I don’t believe he’s thought this whole endeavor with you through. He didn’t anticipate you being the woman you are.” The kindling caught fire and she blew on the flame to encourage it.

Constance glanced up at Grace, uncertain if she should trust this new side to Fiona. Grace shrugged. She didn’t know, either.

Fiona rose and offered the tinder box back to Constance, who had no choice but to come to her feet to accept it. But Fiona didn’t release her hold on the palm-sized tin immediately. Instead, she met Constance’s eyes and said, “I’m asking again, for athirdtime, are you my brother’s mistress?”

“He has not touched me.”

“But you are wishing he would?”

Constance was horrified by the guilty heat that stole up her face. “We’ve said less than three words to each other.”