Page 26 of Deception of a Highlander

And right now, he needed to get her away from the horror of death to a place where he could safely ensure she had not been injured. He strode away from the dead man with Mariel curled in the protection of his arms and then gently set her on the ground where she wouldn’t be able to see the carnage.

Kieran stroked the strands of hair from her face and held her gaze. “Did he hurt ye?”

A choked cry escaped her lips. “Kieran…oh, thank God…” Her voice was raspy, strained.

A single tear slid down her cheek, leaving a trail of exposed porcelain skin beneath the mask of gore. “You’re safe,” she said.

Were the situation not so serious, he might have laughed. She had been worried about him.

He settled on the wet ground beside her. Mud caked her hair and soaked her once fine dress.

She leaned against his chest, clinging to him. “I didn’t think I…” Her words tapered off, and she shook her head. After a deep breath, she continued. “They are both dead now.”

Both? Alarm pricked Kieran’s senses, and suddenly he was alert once more. He hadn’t remembered seeing a another one. Was the second man really dead?

He gently pried Mariel off him and stood up to survey the area. Almost twenty feet away lay a fallen MacLeod with a gaping hole in his throat. Startled, Kieran looked down at Mariel’s wide gaze. “Did ye…?”

“I c…couldn’t let him touch me.”

Kieran’s stomach tightened. In his absence, she’d had to complete the grisly task on her own in a feat that left her shaken. He sank beside her and pulled her against his chest once more. “Ye did what ye had to do. If ye hadna killed him, ye would be dead right now, aye?”

She nodded and kept her stare fixed on him.

God, it was so damn good to be holding her. For the briefest of moments, he had feared he might never have the opportunity again. The level of desperation he’d felt surprised him. He cared for her.

Mariel pursed her full lips, and Kieran’s blood surged as the effects of battle wore off and left white-hot desire in its stead.

She was smooth and beautiful under his rough, calloused hands—an amorous balm to soothe the ugliness of war.

He wanted to beg her forgiveness for failing her, for leaving her at the mercy of the MacLeods. He wanted to confess his feelings of affection and gently kiss away her hurt. Just like he wanted to sate his lust with the warmth of her body and find salvation in her arms.

He held her tight against him and smoothed a web of tangled hair from her cheek. Her quickened breath was warm against his lips.

She needed him as much as he needed her.

With a strangled groan, his lips came down on top of hers, and his tongue plunged into the sweetness of her mouth. She melted against him and yielded to his hunger.

His conscience tugged at him through the haze of desire. She was stained with the blood of men who meant her harm, who had intended to force themselves upon her. He could not take what the men had so aggressively sought.

Kieran broke the kiss and moved away from Mariel. Her hands clutched the back of his neck, and she strained toward him with a pleading gaze.

“Please, I need this,” she whimpered. Her lips brushed his, silky soft and hot with temptation.

Kieran clenched his jaw until the muscles ached. “I canna be like them.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “You could never be like them,” she whispered fiercely. “Don’t you understand? I want your lips to erase the feel of theirs, your body to burn away the insult of their touch.” Her fingers against his chest grabbed the dirty fabric of his leine and dug into his flesh. “Make me forget, Kieran.”

He caught her upturned face in his hands and studied the spark of desperation in her stare. Too vivid was the horror of losing her and the fear he would never see her again. Too recently had she been locked in the clutches of helplessness without him there to protect her.

She was not the only one who needed to forget.

“Please,” she whispered again.

He could not deny her appeal any more than he could ignore the pain in his chest at the thought of her death. His lips came down on hers, and he tightened his grip on her once more.

Her mouth moved against his, frantic and hungry. She slid her hands up his back, her fingers dancing restlessly beneath his leine.

He caught the length of ribbon holding her ruined chemise closed and tugged it free. The fabric parted to reveal creamy white skin unsoiled by the effects of battle.