Kilted Sin (Brethren of Stone 3)

He stopped walking then and spun to face her. Damn it all to hell if he wasn’t aware of just how beautiful she was. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked back at him, her parted lips soft and supple. They begged to be touched. “Good idea. We can go to the magistrate’s office and he can apprise ye of yer rights as a horse thief. Did ye ken it’s a hangin’ offense?”

He heard her gasp. Watched as all colo

r drained from her face, leaving her cheeks pale. Her arm, which had been stiff under his fingers, went slack. He was not going to let her fool him again. It was an act. Her head lolled to the side and then her knees buckled.

His muscles tightened to hold her weight. The bloody woman was going to faint.

Will only managed to keep her from dropping like a stone by going down with her. He couldn’t let go of Ewan so his options were limited. And though she’d left him half-frozen the day before, he couldn’t let her fall completely. He wasn’t sure why—she deserved to hit the ground like a sack.

But once all three of them were on the ground, he realized his mistake. He’d pulled her into his chest, and her head tucked under his chin. As he bent down, he caught a whiff of her hair, which smelled distinctly of his favorite floral scent…lilac. Her silky strands tickled his nose. He inhaled again, and her body melted into his.

“Fiona,” he said, turning to the girl. “The wagon is just down that alley. Be a dear and fetch it for me.”

She gave him a glowing smile. “I’m verra helpful ye know.” Then the child bounced off to do as he bid.

He shook his head. Ewan reached up and grabbed Will’s ear, giving it a good tug. He turned to the boy. “I couldn’t leave ye with Mrs. Cleary. She’d quit. But do ye have to insult me by trying to remove my ear?”

The boy gurgled and smiled, tugging all the more as Will sat in the dirt with a strange woman pressed against his chest.

He let out a long breath. What the bloody hell had happened to his life and how was he going to fix it?

* * *

Gemma woke, and sighed with contentment. The bed was soft and the fire warm.

Who had stoked it? The staff at the inn?

Opening her eyes, she blinked, not recognizing her surroundings. She tried to make sense about what was happening because this was not her room.

Her fists clenched in front of her face. Where was she and how had she gotten here?

She had a vague memory of waking, eating, and leaving for the magistrate’s office but then the world went a little fuzzy. Uncurling her fingers, she rubbed her forehead with her hands, the memories slowly filtered back in. William Sinclair…the magistrate’s office…hanging.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as her fingers shook. Peeling back the covers, she became aware of several circumstances all at once. Most importantly, she only had on her shift. Where were her clothes? She needed them to leave this place immediately. Sinclair hadn’t brought her to this room to feed and warm her, that was for sure.

He’d threatened to have her hanged.

Swallowing hard, she glanced around, scanning the room for her clothes. No luck in finding them. She stood, then stepped away from the bed to search for her dress or even her shoes. Voices in the hall had her running and diving back under the covers, her heart racing so fast she thought it’d leave her chest.

“She did what?” a woman’s voice asked.

She peeked out of the covers a little to better hear. Was that his wife? Were the little ones with him his children? No wonder he’d been so resistant to her seduction yesterday. Though he’d been about to cave. Men, all the same.

“She pushed me into the loch when I was about to swim and then stole my horse and my pants,” Will answered.

She recognized his voice’s low, deep timber. A shiver of need raced down her body settling in her loins. She gritted her teeth. The attraction she felt toward him was the last emotion she needed.

“Why did ye bring her here then? Turn her into the authorities,” the other woman responded.

“Thank ye for the advice, Mrs. Cleary,” he replied curtly.

She heard the woman huff. “It’s not as though ye’ll take it. Or run this house with any sensible course.”

“Likely not,” he answered and then the door swung open. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping he’d go away but a moment later, he called, “Yer awake, I see.”

“Barely,” she replied, pulling the covers higher. “Where am I?”

“My home,” he responded.