Page 16 of Deception of a Highlander

Kieran scrubbed his face with his hands and let his weight sink into the bed’s soft mattress. The sensation of Mariel’s lips lingered on his mouth and left him aching with need. He should not have given in to temptation. He should not have kissed her, even if he knew Gaira’s impending arrival would keep him from taking more than he should.

A gentle knock at his door filled him with a mix of eagerness and trepidation. If Mariel stood on the other side of that door, would he turn her away? Desire throbbed hard and hot against his belly.

Could he turn her away?

But when he swung the door open, it was Gaira sauntered into the room. Not Mariel. The innkeeper did not ask to be invited in as she made her way to the bed and shook out a blanket.

“This is the warmest one I could find. It should do nicely.” She draped the heavy wool across his narrow bed and turned back toward him. Her arms clasped behind her back, all but shoving her breasts under his nose. “Is that all ye need, then?” Intent sparkled in her eyes.

His body rose to the blatant suggestion. This was the kind of woman he was used to—one he could take and not feel guilty about. One who would expect nothing when morning came. Gaira stepped closer and tugged at the lacing of her bodice. Her breasts swelled dangerously over the top of their confines.

“Perhaps it isna a blanket ye need to stay warm tonight.” She leaned into him, and the bulk of her bosom brushed his chest.

His body throbbed for release. He had no ties to Mariel. He’d made no promises to her. What was one willing woman between friends?

“Perhaps.” His answer was intentionally noncommittal as he stared down at her.

But Gaira required little encouragement. She lifted up onto her toes and brushed her lips to his neck.

Desire that had only moments before pounded through him dulled to nothing. She kissed him with a passion he did not share.

Gaira was not the one he wanted.

The woman he wanted had turned away with a wounded look. She confused him, excited him, and elicited such a visceral response within him that he longed to show her exactly how badly he needed her.

Kieran stepped back from Gaira and struggled over what to say. She regarded him with a nonchalance that suggested her lack of offense.

“Maybe I’m no’ the woman who ought to be warming yer bed tonight,” she said with a good-natured wink.

“I should stick with the extra blanket,” he murmured irritably.

Gaira pressed a kiss to his cheek and slipped out the door.

Kieran stalked across the room toward his bed. What the hell was the matter with him? He couldn’t bring himself to take what Mariel offered, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to do anything with any other woman either? Frustration rattled in his brain, and desire ached deep within his bollocks. He settled on his bed and jerked his head back against the pillow.

The night could get no worse.

He heaved a long sigh and drew the blankets over his chest when a giggle sounded from the other side of the wall. Colin’s room. Kieran closed his eyes and flopped onto his side in a futile attempt to get comfortable.

A groan broke the silence, followed by another giggle. Kieran flipped to the other side and slapped a pillow over his head. It did little to block the panting and guttural moans. Did they have to be so damn loud?

After enduring several rounds of Colin’s exploits, a blanket of darkness soothed Kieran’s tired lids and eased the tension along his brow. He had just plunged into the mindless black of sleep when a shriek ripped into his subconscious. He bolted out of bed and was already down the hall when the second scream sounded. The hair on his arms rose with realization.

The cries came from Mariel’s room.

CHAPTER 8

Mariel lay upon the filthy floor, broken and bleeding. The darkness was like a weight that squeezed against her flesh and pressed into her eyes. Her empty stomach heaved at the rich copper odor in the stale air. Panic hovered on the border of her consciousness.

“You’ll learn not to disobey Aaron.”

She froze at the low, grating voice of her torturer and swallowed the fear welling thick in her throat. He would not win. Not this time.

Her fingers splayed against the grit of the floor and came away slick with moisture. The room echoed with her ragged breathing as her hands stretched blindly before her toward a nightmare she shouldn’t face yet could not bring herself to ignore.

She brushed something cool, something once supple and now unnaturally firm. Her fingertips patted until she recognized the shape of a nose. The frantic beat of her heart roared in her ears. She traced the rounded edge of a chin and continued farther until she reached the neck.

It was too late to stop her hands from moving, too late to stop the horror of her discovery from gripping her in its icy hold. She was at its mercy. Her fingers sank into the gaping slit that had sprayed her with the gore now dried upon her skirts.