Page 34 of Deception of a Highlander

She nestled deep under the covers without protest and let her eyes sweep closed.

He should push her now. There would never be a better opportunity to urge her for information.

And yet, she was so vulnerable, so innocent and hurt.

Her breathing became even, and he knew she was on the verge of falling asleep. Her face was smooth and peaceful. If he did not do it now, he might never have the chance.

Tamping down the guilt of taking advantage of her, Kieran spoke the burning question on his mind. “Why do ye want to go to Skye?”

“For Jack,” she murmured, a tender smile lighting her lips. “Everything is always for Jack.”

CHAPTER 14

Icy spray pelted Mariel’s cheeks like needles. Waves rolled and heaved against the roughhewn hull of their crude boat as they pushed through the violent ocean toward Caisteal Camus. Kieran’s home.

Mariel squinted through the dense gray fog toward the blurred landmass ahead of them. If there was a castle on its surface, it was impossible to see in such conditions. Salt-laced air burned a path down her raw throat, and the frigid wind tore through her clothes. Warmth seemed a fleeting memory. One she would not soon relive.

In the last week of travel, they had pressed through ice storms and trudged through drenching rains. Frigid, miserable days were followed by bitter, unbearable nights spent with little more than the thin batting of her bedroll to separate her from the frozen ground. The only heat she experienced was the blazing hot stab of pain from her wound.

A gust of wind slammed into her with such impact that it stole the breath from her chest. Her hands clutched the fine wool of the plaid wrapped around her. The soft rasp of the fabric was no longer noticeable against her numb fingers. She burrowed deep within the sturdy folds in a futile search for heat. And then she caught Kieran’s smell nestled in the tightly woven fibers. The familiar scent left her with a wild need to bury her face against the muted greens and blues of the plaid and breathe deep.

Then she felt it again, the weight of his gaze fixed upon her, as cold and unyielding as the ocean that churned beneath them. His face had been as hard and emotionless since the morning at the inn.

The burden of his scrutiny was crushing, but Mariel refused to turn away. Something flashed in the depths of his black eyes, vulnerable and brief. The muscle in his jaw leapt, almost imperceptibly, and he turned away. His features were fierce with discernable rage.

Frustration gripped her. What had been said that night at the inn? After the attack, he had been passionate and tender; the moments between them had been poignant. And then she drank that blasted tea.

She woke the next morning and found him sleeping on the floor with his back propped up against the wall. He stiffened when she approached to rouse him. The movement was slight but unmistakable, nonetheless. His silent rejection stung, though not nearly to the extent as the glaring accusation in his eyes did.

What had she done? The memory was lost to her as if it had never existed at all.

Initially, she had feared she disclosed her true purpose. Those fears were slowly assuaged throughout the week as she found herself treated with the same respect and comfortable freedom she had enjoyed prior to that night.

But if she had not spoken of her task, what could she have done to warrant his sudden disinterest?

She didn’t have to be there, not anymore. Not with Jane gone. Mariel could have left Kieran and gone back to Aaron’s manor. If Jack were there, she would find him and save him.

But nothing was that easy. It would be a suicide mission. Aaron always had men teeming over every one of his manors. That was how they’d caught her searching for Jack the last time.

This time, they wouldn’t be so lenient.

A wave pounded into the boat with a force that pulled Mariel from her thoughts and made their small vessel shudder. Kieran was staring at her again. He drew in a breath as if he were about to speak. Her pulse raced with anticipation. Was he actually going to talk to her?

“We draw near Caisteal Camus.”

Mariel forced a smile despite the anxious knot in her stomach. “I am eager to arrive.”

His eyes narrowed. “Have ye given any thought to what ye plan to do when we arrive?” His cool tone informed Mariel now was neither the time for flirtation nor teasing retorts.

“You’ve made it clear that you don’t want me, Kieran, in more ways than one.” If he was surprised by the bold declaration, he did not show it. Nor did he object. “I do well enough with a needle. I was hoping I could find work as a seamstress and establish my residence.”

“Ye need no find another place to live. Ye are to stay at Caisteal Camus…as my guest.” His arms folded over his chest. “While ye heal.”

He welcomed her readily into his home with the trustworthiness of an honorable man. Although he did not seem eager for her arrival, nor did he indicate he planned to have her stay long.

She did not deserve such hospitality.

Mariel gazed miserably into the churning water and wished it could swallow her up.