Highlander Unchained (Highlander Trilogy 1)

Her questions disturbed her for they suggested something she was not prepared to face. She could not be, dare not be, falling in love with the devil.

“Do you wish to remain working in the kitchen?”

Was he actually giving her a choice when others had none? And how would Turbett react to her being forced on him? But if she did not work in the kitchen, where would she work?

“You’re not sure are you?”

She shook her head.

“Cree,” Sloan called to him and Cree turned.

A short, slim man with graying hair stood beside Sloan, a rolled parchment tucked beneath his arm. Cree signaled him over to the table.

“Show me,” Cree ordered and the man spread out the parchment with trembling hands.

Dawn’s eyes turned wide and she smiled.

“This is a rough facsimile of how you wished your castle to be designed. There is more work to be done on it,” the man explained.

Cree studied it, his chest swelling with pride. It had taken many years and the lives of many good warriors to reach this point, and he intended for this stronghold to be a monument to all who had sacrificed with him and a home for those who had survived. And he would rule over it all.

“I am pleased with this, William,” Cree said.

William smiled with relief. “You have chosen a perfect spot for the castle. It sits high on the bluff overlooking the Kyle of Tongue. The Kyle will make it easier for the needed material to be transported here and the various craftsmen that will also be required.”

Dawn listened to the conversation but was far more fascinated by the drawing. She itched to make some changes but it was not her place to do so.

Cree saw the way Dawn studied the drawing and how her hands gripped her tankard. She appeared anxious to reach out and add her touch, and he wondered what that might be.

“Do you have a piece of charcoal, William,” Cree asked.

The man shook his head.

Dawn did not hesitate she scurried off the bench and snatched up a piece of kindling from the basket near the hearth. She used it to poke a piece of wood that had burned, as much as it was going to, out of the fire. She tested it with her finger and scooped it up after determining it was not hot. Once back at the table, she held it out to Cree.

So that was what she used to draw with, he thought and shook his head. “It is not for me or William. It is for you to show me what changes you would make.”

She could not hide her joy and William could not hide his annoyance, though when she began to carefully adjust his drawing William soon sat on the bench beside her amazed.

“You are very talented,” William said with a pleasant smile.

Dawn nodded and returned his smile.

“Dawn cannot speak,” Cree said abruptly.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” William said, “but you speak through your drawings, do you not?”

A slight blush rose to stain her cheeks, pleased that he recognized that.

“Enough,” Cree said annoyed, “William has work to do and so do you, Dawn.”

William hurried to roll up the parchment. “I will work on the changes.” And off he went.

Dawn wondered over Cree’s dark scowl. He had encouraged her to make changes to the drawing. Why now was he annoyed?

“You will return to your cottage and wait until I decide what your daily chore will be.”

She contained her surprise and before he could change his mind she bowed her head and hurried out of the keep.

Sloan walked over to the table and handed a tankard of ale to Cree and took a generous swag from the tankard in his other hand. “You best settle this with her and be done with it.”

“This does not concern you.”

“Aye, it does,” Sloan said, “and I will tell you why. I have never seen you look at a woman the way you look at the silent one. If you are not careful you will lose everything that you have worked so hard to achieve. And since when do you not rut with a willing woman after battle? Go take her and ease your loins that must be as hard as rocks.”

“Much harder,” Cree mumbled and Sloan laughed, stood and returned to his chore.

Cree remained where he was, finished his tankard of ale and poured another. Sloan had been right. He had always bedded a willing woman after battle and usually all night long so great was his lust. But not so last night even though one had offered herself to him.

What was wrong with him? There were plenty of women who would rut with him and come back for more. He had never lacked for a woman and yet he had turned one away.

There was a simple solution to his problem. He would bed a woman, satisfy his lust, and be done with it.