Page 13 of Highland Storm

Her eyes popped open and she jerked back, trying to make distance between them.

“What’s the matter, Phoebe? Not used to kissin’ yer enemy?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

Mayhap it was the word enemy that brought her back to her senses, making her remember just who he was.

“We are no’ friends and neither are we alliances, so I warn ye no’ to do that again!”

“Aye, we are enemies,” he said with a nod. “Still, ye have to admit that ye liked it.” He studied her face as if he were looking straight into her soul, and it seemed as if he knew all her secrets. It wouldn’t do any good to lie because she was sure he knew the truth. She did like it. A little too much. The kiss made her feel alive and this scared her even more. No one had ever made her feel this way before.

Feeling tired, hot, hungry and confused, she didn’t know what to think anymore. Hawke muddled her mind and that wasn’t good. She would have to be careful around him. This could all be naught but a ploy to get what he wanted. And whatever a man like Hawke MacKeefe wanted, she was sure she was not willing to give.

She busied herself ripping apart his leine. Then, using a length of cloth to bind his wound, she wrapped it under one of his arms and around his back, tying a mean knot at his chest.

“No’ so hard,” he said with a grunt, making her realize she’d hurt him. Funny that she could make a hardened warrior flinch. She liked having that power over him. It gave her the confidence she needed that mayhap she could escape after all.

“It’s done,” she said, gathering up her herbs and ointments.

“Already?” He sounded disappointed if she wasn’t mistaken. “Mayhap ye should check the stitches,” he suggested, reaching for the bandage.

“Nay!” With a slap of her hand against his, she stopped him. “Do no’ touch the wound. It needs to heal.” She made her way to the horse with the supplies.

Hawke got to his feet, rubbing his slapped hand and looking like a child who had been scolded. “I thought ye liked the kiss, lass.”

“Nay. I didna,” she lied, putting her things into the travel bag tied to the horse, being sure not to look at him when she said it. If so, he’d know the truth.

“My mistake,” he said, leather creaking from the saddle as he pulling his large body up atop the horse. Leaning over, and with his good arm, he reached down for her.

Phoebe closed the bag and latched it, her eyes slowly traveling up his proffered arm. Without his leine, it was easier for her to see each muscle and ripple of his bronzed, wide chest that told her he was a strong warrior. It also reminded her that she was at his mercy. His long hair lifted around his shoulders in the breeze as his blue eyes drank her in. As rugged as he was, he was still very handsome. Much handsomer than he was when she first saw him ten years ago when she was only a child.

Memories swept through her, making her miss her cousin, Osla, who had been married to Hawke before she died by his hand. Questions in her mind rose to the surface, telling her she needed to keep her distance from this dangerous man. Still, for some reason, it was difficult for her to look away. She kept thinking about the kiss they’d just shared and how gentle he’d been with her. It was so unlike the touch of a murderer, or so she guessed. That tenderness they’d shared between them led her mind to wondering about doing other things with this MacKeefe man as well.

“Nay,” she said, shaking her head to clear it of her disgusting lustful daydreams. She had to remember he was the enemy and also responsible for Osla’s death. She shouldn’t be having these kinds of feelings for a man like him. What was the matter with her?

“Nay?” he asked in confusion, pulling back his hand. “All right, then climb into the saddle yerself if ye must. I was only tryin’ to assist ye.”

She didn’t realize she’d said the word aloud. It wasn’t meant to reject his proffered hand, but rather to dismiss the ill thoughts from her head. But now that he’d heard her, she couldn’t admit the real reason and what she’d been thinking. So, instead, she reached out, putting one foot in the stirrup and pulling herself up.

Phoebe never had trouble mounting her horse by herself, but this was different. Now a big warrior was seated in the saddle, taking up every bit of room. She wasn’t sure what to do with her leg. Not being able to lift it over him, she teetered in the air and started to fall backward.

“Whoa there, lass,” he said, clamping his hands around her waist and dragging her atop his lap. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck to keep from falling.

“Now, isna this cozy?” he asked, with a half-grin and a slight chuckle. The nerve of him to jest after what she’d been through today.

Angrily, she hiked up her skirt and lifted one leg over to the other side of the horse. As she slid down in front of him, he moved backward to give her more room. Being a Scot, Phoebe always sat astride atop her horse, instead of sidesaddle. If she were an English lady, mayhap she would have used a lady’s saddle instead. But in the rugged hills of Scotland, there was no such thing as proper.

“My faither is goin’ to be furious when he finds out ye abducted me.”

“Really?” he asked, nonchalantly, poking at his wound. “It doesna seem as if yer clansmen think so, or they never would have left ye behind.”

The truth upset her and made her even madder. “Well, they made a bad decision and they’ll pay for it. I’ll make sure of it. Right after I return to Crookston Castle.”

“I’ll say they made a bad decision,” he agreed. “And when my da finds out they’ve taken my grandda captive, the feud will turn into a bigger battle between our clans than it was a decade ago.”

“And what will happen to ye when ye get back to the castle and tell yer da that ye werena able to save the lives of yer men, nor keep the MacNabs from abductin’ yer chieftain?” she asked with a smug smile.

“Dinna fash yerself,” he grumbled. “I’ll take care of that.”

It was clear to Phoebe that this thought troubled Hawke and he was trying not to show it. She could hear in his tone that his confidence was suddenly shaken. This might work well to her advantage. She hoped so. Because, if not, she didn’t know what she was going to do. It was imperative that she get back home right away to help her ailing father. Nay, she could not be a prisoner of the MacKeefes, no matter what.