The Highlander's Heart Read Online Free PDF

uncharacteristically awkward. She accidentally brushed her hand across his inner thigh and he caught his breath. Tying the ends of the bandage, she raised her head, finding his face close to her own. His expressive eyes mirrored her surprise.
    “You should be well now,” she whispered.
    “I thank thee.” He leaned closer and kissed her chastely on the cheek. “A boon for ye.”
    “Thank you, Edna.” The words escaped her lips without thought.
    The man brushed back her hair from her eyes and kissed her sweetly. She leaned closer into him and he deepened the kiss. She could taste the whiskey on his lips, and wondered if that was the cause of the intoxicating sensation coursing through her.
    Behind her the fire popped, casting flaming sparks. He jerked back and reached around her, beating out the burning embers that had fallen on the hem of her gown.
    He took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Ye are too close to the fire.”
    Her head spun. She was much too close indeed. She should not speak to him again. “I am sorry… that is… too close, I understand… dreadful losing the horse.” She inwardly groaned. She was babbling again.
    He gave her a faint smile of amusement. “Not yer fault about the horse. I shoud’na have lost my temper, but I am due in Glasgow for a meeting, and it will be verra bad if I should miss it.”
    “Am I to know your name?” She blurted the question that had been on her lips all night.
    He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on her. “I am Sir David Campbell.”
    “You are a knight, then?”
    “Aye. And what shall I call ye?”
    “I am the… Isabelle.”
    “ The Isabelle?”
    “How came you by the honor of knighthood?” Isabelle asked, trying to cover her blunder.
    “I was knighted by Sir William Douglas for service rendered to Scotland for ridding Ettrick Forest o’ the English.”
    A slight tingle on the back of her neck gave her a twinge of warning. He said the word English as if it was a curse. Campbell dropped her hand and folded his arms across his chest.
    “For the same act,” Campbell continued, “yer king declared me a criminal and put a price on my head.”
    Isabelle sucked in a gasp of air. This Highlander was a wanted man, a criminal. He was her enemy and she would do best to remember it. Isabelle hastened back to her bower. She laid down with her back to him, closed her eyes, and said no more. At first light she would slip away, back to England. She would not be going anywhere with this man.

Four
     
    Isabelle woke early in the dim light of dawn. The barbarian was sleeping sitting up, his back against a tree, an unsheathed knife in his hands. Even asleep he emanated power. She froze, fearing he would wake at any moment, yet he continued to sleep, snoring slightly. He was not so fearsome without his customary frown. Memories of his kisses warmed her even in the morning chill. In the gray light of dawn, she concluded Sir David Campbell was the most attractive man she had ever seen. How she could have thought otherwise was a mystery.
    It was a shame to have to leave him, but she must return to her people. She moved very slowly, taking care to be silent with each movement. With considerable stealth born of fear, she crept from the camp. She was not sure if he would stop her, but waking him posed too great a risk.
    Several yards from camp she paused, trying to decide which way to go. She could follow the road, but Campbell had indicated it did not lead to England. On the other side of the road was a small hill. She decided to climb it to see if there was another road that might lead her back toward England. At the top of the rise she could still not see beyond the thick foliage. If only she was taller, she might be able to see above the bushes and small trees.
    A large boulder caught her eye and a moment later she was scrambling up it, ignoring the painful sound of ripping velvet. She had been a tree climber in her youth, before someone decided she was old