Page 35 of Highland Storm

Plucking the entire bunch of berries from her hand, Keane pinched off a tiny piece of fruit, biting it gently, as though to test it for himself, never leaving her gaze. “Sweet,” he agreed, and then his lips turned up slightly at one corner.

Something about the look in his eyes gave Lianae a little start. Her heart kicked against her ribs as he leaned toward her, so slowly, staring intently into her eyes, as though she were a rabbit and he were a wolf, willing her to stay and be his prey.

She would do it, she realized.

He but needed to ask.

And then he pulled her close, offering Lianae the berry with his mouth, pressing her close until she parted her lips to receive the fruit. Once she did so, he pushed the juice and the berry deep into her mouth.

For a long moment, Lianae forgot to breathe.

His soft, warm tongue explored the depths of her mouth with barely restrained hunger, brushing softly across her trembling lips and then sliding across the ridge of her teeth. The sensation gave her a strange little quiver. Warmth filled her breast and slid… lower.

Never in her life had she felt such a heady, silvery warmth. It flowed into her most private regions like warm honey. The berry melted into the depths of her mouth, and after a moment, he pulled away, and looked her straight in the eyes.

“Lianae,” he whispered.

“Aye?”

“Did that seem to ye like a mon who thinks ye ugly?”

For a long, long moment, the world fell into a hush as the sound of her own blood rushed through her ears. Her heart pounded furiously.

A short distance away, she could hear the sound of laughter, the sound traveling from their camp. He gave her a playful wink. “Now let’s get some dinner,” he suggested.

Chapter

Twelve

Keane brought back the biggest haul—two hares, one grouse, and to be certain no one had any doubt who’d won the contest, he added a squirrel to the pile of meat to be prepared.

The grouse could not be helped, for it seemed to dance along before him, as though to tempt him. Even when he turned his back on the creature, it circled about, fluttering its wings and undermining his resolve—not unlike Lianae.

He tried his best to ignore the promise of her lips, the taste of her mouth, but in the end, he realized he was weak. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of its emptiness, and he reared back his bow, let loose the arrow, and in the end, the grouse lay skewered for the taking. And yet, despite his hunger for actual food, all he could think about was the taste of Lianae’s mouth.

She was a distraction to be sure.

He’d asked her to pick and carry back a hem full of berries. Whilst Wee Alick and Donal skinned, gutted and cooked the spoils of their hunt, Keane brewed a bit of tea.

Like the rowan berries, whitebeam could have an adverse effect if too many were eaten fresh, but once the seeds were plucked and the bletted fruit was boiled, the bitters produced would quickly settle the stomach. A wee bit would do them, and with a good night’s rest, by the morrow they would all be rested and ready to travel.

As Keane prepared the tea, his gaze reverted to Lianae more often than it should have. Together they’d made a fine team. She was not at all like his sister, Cailin, who competed with him shoulder to shoulder for each and every kill. Nay, Lianae had served him well as his eyes and ears. “Look!” she would say. “A hare!” And then she would watch whilst Keane found the beast in his sights, and clapped exuberantly when the animal was won. He must confess he liked having her at his side, and he found himself driven to keep her safe. But bedamned if kissing her again hadn’t been a heinous mistake, for now he could think of little else. Taking a chug of the whitebeam tea only made him hard. She sat beside him now, laughing softly whilst the men all sang a bawdy song, sharing from a single flask of bitter tea. Turn by turn, they hoarded the warm tin, rolling it greedily between their fists.

The moon was high tonight, the stars all visible within a mostly clear sky. With a wee bit of luck, they would be spared any more inclement weather and sometime on the day thereafter they would arrive at Dunloppe. By then, Keane might better determine what to do with the lass.

“And what’s it ye say the whitebeam is good for?” Brude asked.

“Stopping up your arse,” replied Murdoch with a bark of laughter.

The men all laughed and Keane chuckled low, casting another glance at Lianae to find her blushing fiercely.

She leaned close. “Mayhap I need a moment alone…”

Even under the moonlight, Keane could see that her cheeks were bright—as bright as the berries had been—and he caught her meaning at once. He had to force himself not to go along with her, not really wanting her out of his sight. “Dinna go far,” he cautioned.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, rising and smoothing down her skirts. She smiled at Keane—a devastating smile—and turned on her heels, then hobbled away, her gait much improved.

Replete, and needing no more tea, Lianae rose from her spot beside Keane. Pulling her cloak together—first the breacan he’d given her and had never taken back, and then her cloak—she ambled away from the easy, companionable chatter of men.