He didn't.
Still, the sheer magnitude of the feelings bombarding her was frightening. It made Gabrielle stop an arm's length away from Connor. Where it was safe. She might have erred on many counts since her arrival in Scotland, but she wasn't so foolish as to draw too close to him for fear his tantalizingly familiar scent would invade her, fill her, overwhelm her... that the warmth of his body would seep into hers, melting away her defenses until she had no choice but to surrender to the impossibly strong yearning to again feel the safe haven of his arms enfolding her.
In this harsh, savage country that Gabrielle had been unwillingly thrust into, the shelter of Connor Douglas's embrace was the only warmth and security she'd known. Oh, but how it beckoned.
From the corner of her eye, Gabrielle saw Colin push himself to his feet. The suppleness of the movement drew her attention, jarring her from her thoughts and back to her surroundings.
Colin's spine was straight, his shoulders—almost but not quite as broad as his twin's—squared, his stance stiff and tense. The line of his jaw was hard. The dimpled square of his chin jutted at a stubborn angle as his eyes narrowed. Like a freshly honed dagger, his gaze cut through the shadows, stabbing into his brother. "'Tis past time ye showed up, cuilean."
"If ye call me 'puppy' one more time, ye'll be finding out how deadly this dagger can be, Brother. The blade may be old, but 'tis still sharp." Connor pushed the words through gritted teeth, even as he raised the dagger in question. A sound rumbled in the back of his throat; it resembled a feral growl.
Colin glanced down, his attention focusing on the dagger. A shard of sconcelight winked off a stone embedded in the hilt. The color drained from Colin's face. Suddenly, the hollows beneath his cheeks looked unnaturally pronounced, the cheekbones above high and rigid. His voice, when it came, was a combination of disbelief and outrage. "Where did ye get that?" he demanded.
"Does it matter?" Connor asked, and his voice was as chilly as the draft leaking in through the thick stone walls that surrounded them.
"Aye, cuilean, it matters a great deal to me."
The weathered creases shooting out from the corners of his eyes deepened. "And only to ye," he said, his voice too low and even to be anything but furious. "What matters to me is that the weapon is back with its proper owner. Finally. 'Tis enough."
The twins exchanged a brief glare. Gabrielle's gaze volleyed between the two brothers; so intent were they focused on each other that she might not even have been present for all the attention either paid her.
"Connor!" Ella hissed from the hallway.
Connor angled his head, his eyes shifting to Gabrielle. Was it her imagination, or did his expression soften as he looked at her? Nay, it was nothing more than an illusion of light and shadow, she decided... even as her heart skipped a beat and a breath caught painfully in her throat.
"Come," Connor said, and his free hand lifted, palm up, extended toward her.
Gabrielle looked at that hand. Without warning, her mind was again flooded with memories, with brief, titillating images of last night. She remembered in vivid detail how his big hand had felt as he gently caressed parts of her body that no one else had touched before. Remembered also her own wild, wanton reaction to that skilled caress.
A hot wave of color burned in her cheeks.
Dear Lord, what was she thinking? She shook her head, trying to clear it. Considering the circumstances, now was surely not the time to be basking in intimate memories! Still, even though she forced the memories aside, her body's response to them, to Connor Douglas's touch, lingered and burned all through her body.
Gabrielle hesitated, then swallowed hard. Finally, she placed her hand in his. A jolt sizzled up her arm, quickly seeping to every part of her. The heat of his touch seeped to her very core, banishing the chill and warming her instantly.
Gabrielle could no more deny the sheer intensity of her response to even this innocent contact than she could stop breathing.
Connor flexed his fingers, curling them around hers. His grip was firm, insistent, but not painfully so. If he noticed the trembling of her fingers, he gave no outward indication. A sigh of relief whispered softly past her lips.
"Footsteps!" While Ella spoke the single word softly, the cry of alarm echoed through the room, and off its three occupants, like a resounding clap of thunder.
A movement at the door attracted Gabrielle's attention. Glancing in that direction, she saw Ella.
The girl's slender back was to the room. She was hunched over, grunting as she struggled to drag the unconscious guard's body over the shadowy threshold. "Och, Cousin, dinny stand there gaping, get o'er here and help me."
Connor thrust the dagger at Gabrielle. Without thinking, she took it, and watched him cross to Ella's side. His greater strength made dragging the guard inside a simple feat. With the sole of his boot, he sent the door careening shut behind them.
The carved steel hilt of the dagger retained the heat of Connor's palm. The stone embedded in the hilt bit into her tender palm, yet Gabrielle refused to allow the prick of pain to make her loosen her grip.
Connor had entrusted her with the only weapon among them, a weapon that meant their only chance at freedom. Gabrielle felt a surge of confusion, countered by a much stronger surge of pride. She would do her best not to disappoint him, or betray his unexpected trust.
Her attention shifted to Colin. Even in this dim light, his expression was unmistakable; he was relieved to see the weapon transferred to a less skilled hand.
The line of Gabrielle's jaw hardened. The man was in for a surprise. Little did he suspect her determination to see to it that his relief was to be painfully short-lived. Her spine stiffened, her green eyes narrowed rebelliously.
Could she use the dagger if need be? Aye, she thought she could. Especially if it meant proving to Connor that his trust in her had not been misplaced.
A small portion of Gabrielle's mind acknowledged that although violence was uncharacteristic for her, it was well in keeping with her barbaric surroundings. A larger portion of her mind refused to acknowledge the same, and indeed refused to do anything but focus intently on Colin Douglas.