Page 44

It made her magical.

Pretty women were the reason for many troubles in his life. The reason Lachlan had died, the reason his clan had gotten in trouble with the MacDougalls, and the reason they were out of favor with the old king. Every time something bad happened, it was because he’d been distracted by a woman.

Amber was a distraction, too.

But she made him feel like he was finally alive. Like there was no need to chase the next shiny thing, because the dull ache inside him had stopped in her presence. A voice in his head liked to tell him he was worthless, that he only brought ill to his clan, and that he was his father’s least favorite son. That his brothers were all great warriors and responsible men who’d rather die than leave their family in peril.

That he was the peril.

That voice was quiet in Amber’s presence. She made him feel like he could be more than he’d ever imagined.

Her full lips parted, and he swallowed hard to keep himself from lunging over the table and sealing his lips with hers.

She was so beautiful. So different. Her golden-brown skin glowed like treasure. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and wonder. Her body called him, all willowy and muscular and feminine.

“What about me being from the future?” she said.

“Ye make me believe in wonders, lass.”

Her lips parted in surprise. He didn’t hesitate. He stood and covered the distance between them in one step. He lifted her up to have her stand before him and kissed her.

Her lips met his, soft and warm and succulent, like an exquisite, foreign wine from a faraway country. Her body, delicate and strong at the same time, pressed against his and ignited fire in his blood. Desire roared through him, and his cock stood hard and throbbing for her.

She responded, kissing him as hungrily as he kissed her. The soft brushes of her lips against his, of her tongue against his, unraveled something within him, peeling him open, exposing his core, raw and pure and vulnerable.

He reached down to the edge of her tunic, but she froze.

“Someone’s coming,” she whispered against his lips.

Heavy steps sounded on the stairs, and he unwillingly let her go. They both breathed heavily, their gazes locked, the unresolved desire thick and heavy between them.

Someone knocked at the door, and the innkeeper came in with a bucket of steaming water. The girl who had brought food earlier came after him with another bucket. Amber turned away from them and sat down, hunching over the food to conceal her face. There was nothing to do about her long, wavy braid, but he supposed some men had hair like her in his time.

The innkeeper and the girl repeated the journey several times, and soon the bath stood steaming. They threw Amber a few sideways glances, which wasn’t good. He knew they’d leave first thing in the morning. No doubt the innkeeper would remember two English warriors, one of who had unusually long and voluminous hair.

When the two left, Owen locked the door and leaned against it. Amber stood and walked to the middle of the room, her eyes wide.

“Ye should take yer bath first,” he said, his cock swelling again just at the thought of Amber undressing. “I’ll go to sleep. Wake me up when ye’re done.”

He walked to the other side of the bed and started undressing. He felt her watching him, her gaze warm and tingling on his skin. Christ, if he could, he would come to her, take her in his arms, and make love to her in that bath. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t dive into that temptation. He needed to focus.

Besides, she must be exhausted and in pain from the journey.

He got onto the bed and turned around. His whole body ached, his skin sensitive and feeling every scratch of the blanket and the linens against him.

Her clothes rustled as she undressed and dropped them to the floor with the softest of thumps. The image of her naked body flooded his mind—the seductive curve of the small of her back, the sides of her breasts. Owen clenched his fists in an attempt to chase those visions away. They made him harder and hotter.

He heard water splashing and knew she must be sitting in the bath. She hissed slightly, probably from the burn of water against her wounds.

“Actually, can you help me?” she said. “I can’t reach my back, I’m afraid to strain the muscles and tear the stitches.”

Owen swallowed hard. Say nae. Say nae.

He could lose his head over her. If he gave in to this temptation, what mistake would he make next because of her?

“Owen?”

“Aye, lass, I’ll help ye.”