Enraptured by the Highlander

“How so?”

Feeling her nerves leap, Adelaine pushed the cup of cider through the bars. “Um, here.”

He took the cup but rested it on the ground and reached for her. Adelaine saw his upturned palm and hesitantly reached up to rest her hand on his. He stared at her as if he were trying to read her thoughts through her eyes. “What’s scaring ye, lass?”

“What do you feel for me?” she asked abruptly. “Did you kiss me because I am the only one who looks out for you? Is it just…appreciation? I mean…why did you kiss me?”

He came closer and pressed her hand over his heart and held it there. The beating of his heart was steady, and his eyes never wavered from hers. “It’s nay just appreciation, lass, nor is it that ye gave me clothes or food. It’s nay just that yer beautiful either, or that yer innocence is so beguiling.”

“What is it then?”

“It’s all of them,” he said. “All of them added together. Ye have a soul that is nae fit for yer bloodline and it calls me. Yer beyond beautiful, caring, and pure-hearted. I wish I could hold ye in me arms but I cannae.”

“You want to…hold me?”

“Aye, but there are bars between us,” he said, then said, “And only if ye would want me to, that is.”

His suggestion made a sudden strange ache birth in her stomach. How would it feel to be held by him? Casting a surreptitious glance from under her lashes at him, she admired his strong jaw, chiseled face, and deep honest eyes. He had the broadest shoulders she had ever seen, and his torso was all muscle. Caelan’s arms were corded and solid, and his hands were big and wide. She imaged his touch would be both strong but gentle when he needed to be.

She unconsciously licked her lips and Caelan’s eyebrow arched. His chest rumbled with a laugh when he caught her staring, she blushed, and her face went warm. “I think I’d like that but…” she looked around pointedly at the iron bars, “…I don’t see how we can make that happen.”

Drawing her hand away, she reached into her coat for the book. “I also brought you this.”

Caelan had taken up the mug of cider and was sipping it when she handed him the book. “I don’t have many books for myself, most of them are my father’s, but I wanted you to have something to keep your mind occupied. It’s a copy of a tragedy of a—oh, lord, I did not think of it. It is written in Latin.”

His lips curled, “I ken Latin, lass, I took a year at the University of Glasgow to finish me training.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “Well, here then. It’s a translation of Hippolytus by Euripides from Greek to Latin. My father had it made privately a few years ago when our tutors taught us the language. I don’t know how you can hide it when the guards come by.”

“I’ll manage,” Caelan took the thin book.

This time, it was not he who pulled her close, she did, and rose to the tips of her toes to chastely kiss him on the mouth. His surprised smile made her blush at her brazenness, “Take care, Caelan.”

“Ye too, lass,” he replied.

And damn, if his husky tone did not make her shiver.

Imagining Caelan hugging her had become a fantasy soon enough but she only allowed herself to dream in private. But how could it come about? He was locked behind bars and remembering how David, Sir Bartholomew’s squire had strained to open the door, she knew that she was not even halfway strong enough.

The days were getting shorter and the nights longer and cold. Each morning, the sky was sullen gray with the threat of snow. It never fell, just lingered in the air for days until one night, it finally did snow.

In the wee hours of the night, Adelaine stood at the window looking in as the flurry of snow came down in droves. She knew by morning the ground would be coated with white, and the boughs of the trees would be laden. The lakes would be frozen, and the buildings transformed from dark stone to be coated with white, all announcing that true winter had come.

She drifted back to the center of the room, tightening the dressing robe around her as she went. She perched on the bed and considered what she was going to do with Caelan’s offer. The man was a prisoner and her father would be more than furious even knowing that she had gone to see him much less had an…affair…with him.

Is that even the right word? Affair? Doesn’t that pertain to a married person who sees another person behind their partner’s back…isn’t that adultery? How could I do that? I’m not even married.

Adelaine squirmed away from the thought that it was fornication, the mere suggestion of that word rang very judgmentally. Couldn’t she just care about Caelan? Did it have to be so complicated? Did there have to be a label? She wanted to touch him and get closer than the mere touches they’d had so far.

Sliding back into bed, deciding to do whatever she could to be near Caelan in the small window of time they had left. Her sleep that night was peaceful and she woke to, as expected, a transformed land. After washing and rinsing her mouth, she went to take in the full glory of the snowfall. Bracing for the cold, she opened the window and smiled at the ground. The snow was reflecting the pale golden-silver light of the sun, making the ground shimmer and glisten.

“My Lady?” Martha’s voice tugged her from her musings, and she turned around to see her maid holding two pewter cups. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m…happy,” she replied as Martha set the tray down. Adelaine saw a cup of warm milk and a cup of cider. A plate of c

rusty apple bread, with slices of the baked fruit on top of it.

“That’s wonderful,” Martha said as she neared her. “Is it because the snow had fallen? You love snow.”