Page 41 of Sins of the Highlander

The succubus in his dream said he was bound because he didn’t have the will to free himself. Even if he had the will, he didn’t see any way to break out of this web of his own weaving. Elspeth was still his enemy’s bride.

“Rob!” Angus called to him. “Are ye awake?”

Rob silently blessed his friend. A turn at the tiller would give his hands something to do and his head a chance to stop chasing these pointless questions.

“Aye,” he said, sitting up and stretching his arms as far as the cramped space allowed. “I’ll be there anon.”

Elspeth stirred beside him. She sat up and stretched catlike as well. Her breasts were unbound still and strained against the thin fabric of her chemise. He forced himself to look away from those luscious curves, but his gaze sneaked back to them. Her nipples stood out proud under the worn linen.

He started to crawl out of the cabin.

“Wait a moment,” Elspeth said. She pulled the leather bodice on over her head and turned her back to him. “I need your help with the laces.”

He tried not to think about the way the bodice lifted her breasts and pressed them together till a soft curve spilled over the top. He was totally unsuccessful. He pulled the laces tight and tied them off.

“There you are,” he said. Anything to fill the silence between them.

“Here I am.” She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth out the tangles.

It only served to remind him how that silken hair had brushed his cock in his dream and then her lips had followed with devastating effect. His body roused to her afresh.

“You’re staring at me,” she accused.

He looked away, but her image was still burned on the backs of his eyes.

“Ye drag me off with ye, and yet ye seem to be able to forget I exist with amazing speed,” she said. “Did it cross your mind that we might have aught to say to one another after what passed between us?”

He shouldn’t have turned away from her. He knew that. Not after she let him touch her so trustingly.

He should apologize. He should explain. He had no idea how to begin.

“Well?” she demanded. “Have ye naught to say to me?”

“Rob!”

Praise be to God for Angus Fletcher!

“No’ now, Elspeth.” Rob scrambled out of the cabin as if his kilt was afire.

***

Elspeth pulled on her cloak and followed Rob out, but she stayed near the prow. The moon had risen and scattered silver coins across the black water of the loch. Clouds scudded across the sky, so the night was warmer than it might have been for November. She still gathered Rob’s cloak at her neck and fastened it with the plain but serviceable brooch.

She pleased Angus by accepting one of his cold sausages wrapped in crumbling bread, and washed it down with some wine that was only days from turning to vinegar.

“The wind shifted whilst ye were resting,” he told her. “We’ve come about with nary a bit of trouble, slick as snot—ach!” He smacked a beefy palm on his forehead. “Ye must forgive me. I’m no’ accustomed to conversin’ with ladies.”

“That’s all well and good, Mr. Fletcher.”

“Angus,” he insisted. Then he leaned down to her and lowered his voice. “And a word in your ear. There’s folks as say that Rob MacLaren is balmy, but he’s as sane as ye or I, ye ken. O’ course, I love the lad like he was my own son. Now, I’m no’ saying I agree with everything he’s doing, mind, but I understand it.”

“I wish I did.”

“Reckon he’ll explain matters to ye, when he gets it straight in his own mind,” Angus said. “But if he ever lifts so much as a finger against ye, weel, the young pup will have to answer to me, ye hear?”

“I thank ye, Mr.…Angus,” she said as he headed toward the cabin. “Rest well.”

Elspeth expected Fletcher’s dog to accompany him, but Fingal remained at her side, his shaggy body warm where he leaned against her hip and thigh. She stood still as a figurehead for a few moments, wondering what to do. It was a small boat. She couldn’t very well join Mr. Fletcher in the cabin. There was no place to sit in the prow. The only other option was the bench near the stern.