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Chapter 13
Alastair awoke the next morning to his hound licking him in the face. He had been dreaming about licking Fia and had hoped it was her kisses he felt. But alas, it was not.
“Cerberus, stop it.” With his eyes still closed, his hand went out to push the dog away. When it wouldn’t leave him alone, he rolled over and tried to continue sleeping. But then the hound nudged him in the back three times. The last time was so hard that he rolled off the bed and hit the floor. “All right. I’m awake,” he grumbled, sitting up to realize he had fallen asleep with his clothes on last night. He looked across the room to see Fia sleeping on a chair by the window.
The early morning sunlight peeked in from the partially opened shutter, bathing her face in hues of orange and gold. It made her hair look like locks of angelic fire. Long, wavy strands fell over her chest, molding to her curves. How regal she seemed, like a princess mixed with an angel. Now, all she needed was to be wearing her crown. How the hell was he going to trade her to his enemy, not knowing if they were going to harm a hair on her head? For all he knew, they might rape her or beat her. After all, she said they wouldn’t want her since she was from the Lowland sept. This decision was eating him up from inside. He had no choice, he told himself. He had tried for years to rescue his father, and this was his best and, mayhap, last chance. He had to do it.
Alastair let out a sigh and got to his feet, brushing the rushes off his plaid with one hand, trying to keep the dog from barking with his other.
He walked over to the door and opened it, letting the hound run out. “Go find Niven,” he said, closing the door, knowing the dog’s nose would lead him to the great hall since the meal would be served soon.
“Alastair?” came Fia’s soft, gentle voice from the other side of the room.
“Go back to sleep. It’s early.” He headed back to the bed, hoping to get a few extra winks himself.
“Nay, I want to talk to ye.” She slid off the chair and padded across the floor in her bare feet, daringly sitting on the edge of the bed next to him.
“About what?” he asked, pushing up to a sitting position, curious to know what she had to say. He made sure not to get too close, or he would be tempted to kiss her again.
“I wanted to apologize.”
“Whatever for?” He straightened out his plaid that had ridden up his bare thighs.
“I wasna tryin’ to tempt ye and then push ye away. It’s just that I . . . I am a virgin, and yer actions frightened me.”
All of a sudden, Alastair felt like a fool. Of course, she was a virgin. Why hadn’t he thought of that? His lust had gotten in the way and turned his mind to mud. He should never have acted the way he did with the granddaughter of a king, even if she was spawned from naught but a bastard.
“I’m no’ proud of the way I acted with ye,” he admitted. “I – I let my feelin’s for ye get in the way.”
“Ye have feelin’s for me?”Fia was surprised to hear Alastair admit it. She never expected this from a man like him.
“Well, I mean, I just got excited since I havena been around such a bonnie lassie in a long time. That’s all it was, nothin’ more.”
He was lying again, and Fia knew it. He made it sound like he thought it was a mistake, but his body actions betrayed him. He sat on the bed with his knees out to the sides, nearly exposing his crotch to her under his plaid. And he leaned forward as if he didn’t want to miss a word she said. His eyes quickly fell from her face, scanning down her body and then moved back up again. She watched as the pupils of his eyes grew two sizes larger. She smiled, knowing now that he was genuinely attracted to her.
“Tell me about yerself,” she said, hoping to find out more about his life within the clan.
“What do ye want to ken?”
“Do ye have siblin’s? And besides yer faither who is imprisoned, is yer mathair still alive?”
A dark shadow covered his face. He shook his head slightly. “I dinna remember much of my mathair. Somethin’ happened long ago that I dinna understand. She left my faither when my brathair and I were just lads. My brathair, Toran, disappeared after a battle with the English a few years ago. I guess he is dead.”
“Ye dinna ken for sure? Perhaps he was taken prisoner, like yer faither.”
“I dinna think so. I found his sword on the battlefield and barely made it out alive myself. I was wounded and would have died if a mysterious woman hadna picked me up and helped me onto my horse.”
“A mysterious woman? Who was she?”
His eyes flashed upward and to the side as if he were reliving a past event. “I dinna ken. Through my blurred vision, she looked to me like an angel.”
“Mayhap you imagined her.”
“Nay!” He sat up straight and his hands closed. “My faither thinks the same thing, but I didna imagine her at all.”
“Then who was she? And what was she doin’ on the battlefield?” asked Fia curiously.
“I dinna ken. I couldna see her face under the hood of her cape. The only thing I remember was that she wore a small heart brooch on her cloak just like the one ye wear.” He gingerly reached out and ran the tip of his finger over her heart pin in a reverent manner.
