She stared down through the hole into the great hall again as if she thought they were laughing at her. Nay, the people below did not know the two of them were in here.
Neacal sucked in a sharp breath. "Pray pardon," he whispered. "I forgot myself." He turned to the door, hoping she didn't know of his raging arousal. Had he pressed himself against her? Had she felt how much he wanted her?
If so, he couldn't blame her for drawing away. He was naught but a bad-mannered rogue. Exiting the room, he helped her into the corridor, then quietly closed the door.
Facing her, he said, "I hope you can forgive me."
She swallowed hard, her face still flushed. "There is naught to forgive, m'laird."
M'laird? She had already reverted back to his title. She must indeed be vexed at him, although not admitting to it. He gave a brief, caustic laugh. "I beg to differ. You're helping me and I'm…" He shook his head, unable to voice how loathsome he felt.
Her wide curious eyes searched his and he wondered what she truly thought of him. Clearly she did not fear him, or she would've run from him as if he were the devil himself.
Had she liked the kiss as much as he'd thought she did? As for himself, he had enjoyed it more than anything in the past several years. Mayhap more than anything in his life. A new burst of arousal struck him and it took all his strength not to pull her to him and claim her sweet mouth again.
He forced his gaze aside. "I thank you for telling me of the traitors," he whispered.
She nodded. "You're welcome. I'm glad to help." She turned and walked away slowly.
He could not believe it. She didn't fear him as most women did… even though he'd kissed her like a man bent on ravishing her. Saints, how he craved feeling her bare skin and curves brushing along the length of his body.
He ached for it.
Shaking off the yearning, he descended the stairs in search of his most trusted men. He had to discover how many traitors lived within these walls. He hoped his friend Colin Cameron showed up soon with an army of several dozen. 'Twas sad he trusted another clan more than his own.
***
Anna rushed toward her small bedchamber on the servants' floor. Good heavens! What had she just done? Kissed Neacal! She pressed a hand to her burning, sensitized lips.
Surely, she'd lost her mind.
Well, he'd kissed her first, and how could she possibly resist? She closed her eyes, remembering what a stunning, dreamy kiss it had been… and unbelievably seductive, but she'd also felt his loneliness pulling at her soul. The kiss had been as dark, tormented and sinful as the man.
He was dangerous temptation itself. Although some women might fear his glares, or find his scars unappealing, she could easily look beyond his forbidding surface to the agony beneath. The angst in his blue eyes drew her in. She felt his isolation, for she lived the same sort of existence—surrounded by dozens of people but not truly a part of the group. 'Twas the pain and secrets of the past that made it so.
If he followed her to her room now, in pursuit of another kiss, she would be hard-pressed to resist him. But she must! No matter how much she'd enjoyed the kiss, she was daft to have allowed it to happen.
Although she had not willingly married Blackburn MacCromar, she feared she was wed in the eyes of the law. The priest had heard her saynaymany times during the ceremony, but in the end, when Blackburn had his man press the tip of the sharp blade against her sister's throat, she'd been forced to sayayeto save her sister's life.
Of a certainty, she did not feel married to Blackburn, nor claim him as a husband. Still, if he ever found her, he would force her back to the MacCromar castle, lock her inside, then beat and punish her. Since he was a man and now a chief, the law would be on his side. The only way to escape him would be to kill him, but she was not a murderess. Nor did she possess his strength, fighting skill or manpower to best him.
Regardless, she must stay away from Neacal. Aye, she'd loved slipping about and eavesdropping on the clan with him in the wee laird's lug, but that was folly. She could not get too close to anyone, especially Neacal, and risk exposing her secrets.
***
Neacal found Matthew in the great hall, rising from the table after breaking his fast.
"Have you a minute?" Neacal asked, forcing himself not to glance in the traitors' direction. He did not want them to suspect he knew.
"Aye, of course, chief."
Neacal headed toward the library, which he knew to be secure with no places to eavesdrop. Not enough time had passed for Lawler and Roth to return with Colin Cameron and his men… if his friend decided to help him with manpower. Besides, Neacal had to discover the traitors among his clansmen for himself. Hopefully before Colin arrived.
Once they were inside the library, he closed the door.
He had known Matthew since they were lads. They had always been friends back then, in addition to cousins. He didn't believe Matthew would be a turncoat.
"There are traitors among us," Neacal said, keeping his voice low.
