Beloved Highlander

“I amuse you?” she asked in a sharp tone. Perhaps honesty was not the best option after all.

His eyes glinted with mocking humor. “I was wondering how my men would have reacted if I had given them an order in the outfit you just described. I have a feeling it was Georgie Moncreith you saw at the tavern. He’s the only son of a factor and believes himself almost gentry.”

His tone was filled with scorn—an insult from a man who did not have to play at being a gentleman. A man who, despite his worn clothing and lowered circumstances, still carried himself like the proud laird.

Yes, he was very different from the boy she had dreamed of, but much more intriguing. Not a disappointment, Meg realized,

with some surprise. Whatever Gregor was or wasn’t, he had not disappointed her.

Shona chose that moment to return with the bedding, and the next few minutes were spent making up a couple of comfortable spots by the fire.

“Good night,” she said, turning down the lantern and leaving them alone in the firelight.

Gregor stood, hesitant.

“You should sleep,” Meg said at last. “Tomorrow will be another long day. How are you feeling now?”

He smiled ruefully. “Remarkably well, considering how I felt before. Your Shona must be a witch.”

“I don’t know if she is mine, but yes, I have heard her called so.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Meg. Should I go elsewhere to sleep?”

Meg didn’t look at him, busying herself arranging her own bed to her liking. “Of course not, Captain Grant. I will trust you, if you will trust me.”

He hesitated a moment longer, and then removed his boots and lay down, pulling a blanket over him. Meg followed suit, taking off her boots and leaving on her stockings and other clothing. She would have enjoyed a long, hot bath, but such a luxury seemed unlikely in the present circumstances.

Meg closed her eyes. She was uncomfortable, tired, and dirty. She could hear Gregor Grant’s breathing gradually slowing. He was falling asleep already. Meg supposed it was a vital requisite for a man in his position, to sleep whenever and wherever he could. She squeezed her eyes tighter shut and tried to pretend she was at home in her own comfortable bed.

It didn’t help.

An hour later, Meg was still awake. She turned over for the dozenth time, shaking the bolster to try and make it softer beneath her head.

“It will be more comfortable if you lean on me.”

His voice startled her; tingles ran over her skin. He sounded practical, even kind. Why then did Meg feel so uneasy at the thought of being so much closer to him?

“Then you will not be able to sleep,” she said at last.

“I have no trouble sleeping, Meg. Come here, and we will arrange ourselves so that we are both more comfortable.”

Was he right? Suddenly Meg was so frustrated and tired she was willing to try anything. She shuffled closer, and settled in at his side. He had turned slightly onto his back, his wounded arm on the other side, out of harm’s way. He slid his good arm under her, snuggling her in to his chest. The sensation of warmth and comfort was immediate, like one of Shona’s sleeping tinctures. Meg felt quite dizzy with bliss.

She gave up on her objections with a sigh of sheer pleasure.

Gregor smiled into the darkness. Her hair brushed his nose, the scent of it filling his head with a dramatic intensity that set his pulses racing. He slowed them down, reminding himself she was now his employer. She owned him, in a way. He was here to look after her, certainly not to seduce her.

It was a pity his body didn’t seem to realize that.

Meg sighed again. She tucked her feet up, and cuddled closer, clearly trying to relax, although she had started out as tense as he. Maybe she felt it too, this thing between them? Physical need. The attraction of two people to each other that had nothing to do with their minds or ideals or anything else in their heads and hearts. This was a need of the flesh, Gregor told himself, and he could control it. If he had to.

“Good night,” he murmured firmly, and smiled when she yawned.

“Good night,” she whispered back.

After a short time she went limp, her breathing slowing to sleep. But by then Gregor was already himself asleep.

Chapter 8