The Highlander's Bride Read Online Free PDF Page B

mountains capped with snow. There, she was safe from the hatred below. Peace settled around her like a dense fog on a cool morning and sleep was finally possible.
    Conor, a light sleeper, was awakened early in the night by Laurel’s agitated slumber. She was dreaming and unmistakably terrified. He realized, seeing her panicked expression, that her shield of pride she wore when awake had been masking much of her true fear. He reached down to gently wake her, but it seemed to inflame her dream state even more. Only when he sat down and gathered her into his arms did she finally seem to calm.
    Laurel awoke in the middle of the night feeling safe and warm. She thought that sleep must be clouding her mind, for she seemed to be resting her head on Conor’s shoulder and one of her legs was cast over his. The intimate and inappropriate position of their bodies was undeniable.
    Laurel didn’t move. Oh, she knew that she should, but never had she felt more extraordinarily comfortable in her life. She closed her eyes. In his arms, she found a safe haven that would be gone by morning. Conor was always the first to rise so no one would know, she told herself. So instead of moving away as a proper English lady should, Laurel remained where she was, savoring every moment of being close to Conor until she fell back into a peaceful sleep.
    Conor awoke when she did. Her soft, warm breaths had turned shallow for a couple of minutes, and he wondered if she would distance herself from him. When she did not, he wanted to believe that she enjoyed and craved their embrace as much he did. More likely she was just cold, and he provided the physical warmth she needed.
    He tried not to think about how wonderful it was having her by his side. He dismissed the smell of lilacs and the way it felt when she sighed her light feathery kisses of air across his chest, and concentrated on returning to sleep. He forced himself not to stroke the silky golden locks of hair that randomly found their way into his hands. Sleep finally came again, but not quickly.
     
    The next morning, when it was time to mount their horses and leave, both Hamish and Loman volunteered to have Laurel ride with them. However, each of the brothers argued that she should ride with a McTiernay. Laurel, not wanting to antagonize any man or show preference, stood in the middle of the broken campsite searching for a diplomatic solution. Conor experienced mixed feelings of relief and strain when he settled the dispute by having her ride with him.
    Their soul-shaking kiss followed by their sharing a plaid throughout most of the night had done nothing to quell his growing desire to possess her. Her calm demeanor and quiet courage only fueled his growing fire of need. Touching her all day was going to be hell, but one he strangely welcomed enduring.
    He rode up to Laurel, reached down and said, “You ride with me.” She smiled at him, and as she expected, her highlander scowled back in return. She was getting to understand this gentle giant better.
    Laurel was feeling better today. Conor had been correct about binding her ribs. The added support was making it a much easier ride than on the previous day. She was taking in the beautiful countryside and saw the green, tree-filled mountains they were approaching.
    “Are those the highland mountains?” she asked, pointing to where they were headed.
    He chuckled in response, and she could feel his laughter vibrate throughout his body. “No, lass. Those are but wee hills separating the border Scots from the central Scots.”
    Laurel looked at the huge rocks jutting into the sky. Wee hills?
    “The highlands are the most grand lands of Scotland. They tower over the rest. Only the strongest can survive there.”
    Laurel could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke of his northern high country.
    “Tomorrow, we will be well into the valley of the central Scots. In the morning, as we crest the hills, you may be able to see several lochs to the