He empathized. Her heart softened even more toward him.
Elspeth nodded. “Ye empathize with me fer finding it more difficult to kill ye. Ye surprise me, Logan.”
When she moved to stand and leave the edge of the bed, his fingers around her wrist stopped her and pulled her back. She fell against him and into his lap but didn’t try to right herself. He was going to kiss her and she wanted it. She missed his lips on hers, his scent engulfing her, his tongue probing her mouth. Shestopped caring if she was mad. She could call him her enemy, but he wasn’t.
She was glad she had rinsed his mouth with mint as both of his arms closed around her. His mouth covered hers, touching her and releasing hundreds of crackling flames through her blood. His lips were soft, like lush pillows molding to her. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair.
She never wanted to stop kissing him—
The bedroom door burst open, giving Elspeth less than a breath to break their kiss and nearly fall off the bed.
His hand caught her. His smile calmed her.
“Logan, what is… I was just told ye were…” The woman standing at the door was beautiful, with a thick red braid falling over her chest, and eyes like lightning in a storm.
“Mother,” he began.
His mother. Elspeth prayed for the floor to open and just take her down to the pits of hell, where she belonged. A trollop was what she was. His mother didn’t have to say it; Elspeth knew it. What other kind of woman would passionately kiss a man who’d been almost fatally poisoned?
Fatally poisoned. The thought of it made Elspeth want to run into his arms again.
“Is Father with ye?”
“Nae,” she sighed and went to stand at the edge of his bed. “The leaders of the Chattan called an urgent meeting and invited him. He sent me here with Ewen and will come as soon as he can. How are you feeling? The lads told me what happened.”
“I am well, thanks to this woman, Miss Elspeth Woodburn.”
His mother flicked her gaze to her. “Aye, I know of her. Daughter of the late Lord Dunley, who stabbed my son.”
“And lost his life and the lives of his wife and bairns fer it, Mother.”
Elspeth looked at Logan, propped up in bed, standing up for her family, her father, who ended his dream of defending his king.
She had wondered what kind of man Logan Cameron was. Now, she knew fer certain.
“Miss Woodburn, would ye give me and my son a few moments alone?”
“Of course.” Elspeth curtsied and nearly ran from the room.
She ran into Jamie in the hall.
“Did ye meet her?” he asked her. “The Lochiel’s wife?”
“Aye,” Elspeth answered miserably. “I met her.”
“Do ye still wish to kill her?”
“Hush, Jamie!” She slapped his arm. “Nae, I dinna. But I dinna want her to know that I did. She already hates me after what she saw.”
“What did she see?”
Instantly, her cheeks burned. It didn’t take more than that for Jamie to guess the rest. His eyes opened wider. “Och, lass, I—” his words faded into something new. “Then we were correct, Logan cares fer ye!”
“Were ye all discussing mine and Logan’s relationship?”
“Aye, we were,” he confessed enthusiastically. “Even Ewen had to admit Logan seemed taken with ye. Steafan didna believe it. It has been more years than I can remember since Logan sought a woman’s attention, let alone cared fer one. But I knew ye were changin’ that, Miss Woodburn.”
“I told ye she loves him,” Ealar appeared, turning the corner and reaching them. When she set her eyes on him, he winked at her. “I heard her myself. She called him ‘my love’.”
