Taming a Wild Scot: A Claimed by the Highlander Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

the door, trying not to let her imagination stray to how they would pass the night. Who would get the bed? It was too narrow to accommodate both of them—thank heaven—but she didn’t relish spending the night on the cold, hard floor. Especially as she only had one blanket.
    “You took a great risk, claiming to be my dead husband. How did you know that I had presented myself as a widow?”
    He pointed to her linen brèid. “You cover your hair like a wedded woman, but require a guard to accompany you to the marketplace. It seemed safe to assume there was no husband.”
    A keen eye—she’d give him that. “How long do you intend to stay?”
    “As long as it takes.”
    She frowned. “That’s not an answer.”
    He shrugged. “It’s all I can offer.”
    “Might I know your true identity, at least?”
    “As much as I’d enjoy hearing my name drop from your sweet lips, lass, it’s best we keep this ruse as simple as possible. If you knew my true name, you might stumble over it a time or two and I can’t have that. Here, in this village, I’m just Robbie.”
    Heat bloomed in Ana’s cheeks. Pleasure at his compliment battled with a quiver of disquiet in her belly. Sharing her bothy with her handsome rescuer might be possible if their arrangement remained impersonal and based on threats, but if he insisted on making such intimate and provocative comments . . .
    She spun away from the sight of him lounging on her cot and buried her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt. “You forget that I already know your given name. Someone hailed you as Niall that night.”
    “And you recall so, three months later? How curious.”
    A second wave of heat attacked her cheeks. Not curious at all, really. Over that time, her imagination had built her mysterious savior into a paragon of grace and valor. But the real man did not compare favorably. Too rude, too demanding, too . . . alarming. “Can we agree upon a false history, then? How long have we been wed? Where did we live before venturing to Duthes? Where are your kin?”
    “All will be defined in good time.”
    She snatched her healer’s pouch from the peg and began stuffing it with herbs. Lemon balm, while not as effective as cardamom, would soothe Lady Elayne’s belly. “I am not a skilled dissembler. I cannot conjure credible lies with ease.”
    “Then don’t lie.”
    “How can I not? The villagers here believe me to be the widow of a traveling merchant, because that is what I told them. I’ve never said aught to them about my husband working on the docks in Aberdeen. Now you expect me to—”
    “Cease, woman.”
    Taking a deep breath, she turned.
    He had tossed aside the remaining bread and regained his feet. Holding her gaze firmly with his, he crossed the room. “Leave the story-weaving to me. If you find yourself alone, explain that you were too ashamed to admit your husband lost his caravan to a turn of the dice.” Unsmiling, he brushed a callused thumb over her cheek. “The color that fills your cheeks as you prevaricate will convince them it’s the truth.”
    The rough caress sent a thrill of excitement from her cheek to her belly. It had been a long time since she had felt the tug of desire. But this was no eager young swain courting her attention—he was a blackguard on a nefarious mission. A rogue of the worst kind. Encouraging his boldness would be unwise. She took a step back.
    “Perhaps,” she said flatly.
    He did not take the broad hint in her voice. Instead, his fingers grazed the scar on her brow. “How did you come by this injury? When last I saw you, it did not exist.”
    With her heart racing and her breath difficult to catch, Ana took a second step back, forcing him to drop his hand. Why did her body continue to respond to him, when his rudeness knew no bounds? “I fell.”
    He frowned. “That night? Or some time later?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “Answer the question.”
    Although tempted to refuse, Ana decided not to