Sins of the Highlander Read Online Free PDF Page B

head.”
    When she did, he slid his arm under her neck.
    “There ye are, lass, as fine as ye could wish. A pillow for your head and all.”
    “Aye, never let it be said the MacLaren didna care for the comfort of his captives,” she said tetchily.
    “Ye’ve the right of it now. We’ll deal together well, ye and I.” He pulled her close and spooned his body around hers. Then he covered them both with the end of his thick plaid. She wouldn’t be able to twitch a muscle without his knowledge, so he could catch the sleep he’d need for the coming night without fear of her escaping.
    She lay stiffly, every muscle clenched. But Rob kept his breathing even, and she relaxed by finger-widths until he heard a very soft, very ladylike snore.
    Poor lass. She probably didna sleep much last night with thoughts of the wedding dancing in her head.
    Rob settled a hand on her hip, and she didn’t stir.
    However, he did. His body roused to hers again. His cock swelled, and his ballocks tensed, but he held himself perfectly still. He’d made a promise, after all.
    As he sought sleep, it occurred to him that the best revenge on Lachlan Drummond wouldn’t be to kill his betrothed. Or to rape her. Or even tie her up and torment her into surrender, pleasurable as that might be.
    If Rob could seduce Elspeth Stewart into giving herself to him willingly, his enemy would be thoroughly shamed. The name of Lachlan Drummond would become a byword, held up for ridicule by all as the cuckolded bridegroom. Bards would compose songs about it, and folk would laugh at him over many a winter fire.
    Drummond would be so furious, he’d respond to Rob’s challenge of single combat at last.
    And then Rob would send him straight to hell. Even if he had to go through the flaming gate with him.
    ***
    One good thing about Mad Rob MacLaren , Elspeth thought when she woke. He throws off more heat than a roaring fire.
    She pulled the plaid up till it covered her nose. A few moments earlier, her disorientation in the darkness was so complete, she might as well have been blind.
    She became aware of the hard male body curved around her back. And the thick ridge of him pressed against her buttocks. His breathing was deep and even and fluttered the small hairs on her nape in its warm breeze.
    She supposed she should be grateful. Many men would have taken her maidenhead without a moment’s qualm.
    And without his heat, she’d have passed a miserably uncomfortable night.
    But she didn’t want to feel any gratitude toward this man. Even if she were rescued now, the damage was done. Her reputation was in tatters.
    No one would blame Lachlan Drummond if he wished to cry off.
    Would they send her to a nunnery?
    Elspeth was as good a Christian as the next Scottish lass, but life in a cloister didn’t bear thinking of. To be penned away, never to run free on the heath or wear a pretty gown…
    Or lie beside a man.
    Rob shifted in his sleep and pulled her closer to him. Her body glowed with something that had nothing to do with shared warmth.
    No, she was not suited for life in a religious order. Her brief time with Rob MacLaren had proved that. Her body and its bewildering needs were far too strong to be overruled by even the strictest monastic discipline.
    She was meant to be someone’s wife.
    And now that she thought about it, she realized Lachlan Drummond wouldn’t abandon her. She represented too many heads of cattle and rich grazing lands. Her father was laird of a powerful clan, the queen’s own cousin, albeit a distant one. Alistair Stewart offered too strong a political alliance for her bridegroom to give up her without a fight.
    The realization didn’t please her as much as it ought.
    Would she never be wanted just for herself?
    “Are ye awake, lass?” Rob’s whisper tickled her neck.
    She sat up, keeping the plaid wrapped about her against the cold.
    “Good,” he said, moving with confidence in the darkness. “It’s time we were away.”
    Away.