Read Online The Highlander's Sin by Eliza Knight - Free Book Online

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    “If I’m not a person, then what am I?”
    “Good question.”
    She smirked, then licked her lips as he guzzled whatever was in the flask. Her tongue was dry , and she was suddenly overcome by an extreme thirst.
    “And being an educated noble woman from the house of Sutherland, ye’ve a good answer, I’m certain.” Sarcasm laced his words.
    The man was irritating. So much so she cringed. The cor ner of his lip curled as he observed her. Thick, kissable lips. Heather tossed the rest of her distasteful dinner a few feet away.
    “ Ye’ve just invited a slew of rats to feast on your leftovers and your luscious legs.”
    He thought her legs luscious? A twinge of heat roused between her thighs. God bless it, this man made her forget everything she wanted, needed. Made her forget her duty to Scotland and the very reason she’d left in the first place—because she was going to escape from him and find William Wallace.
    “Ye’re a cad. That’s what ye are. And ye have no name.”
    “I have a name.” He wiped a droplet of liquid from his lower lip with the pad of his thumb.
    Heather crossed her arms over her breasts—partly in obstinance and partly to hide the fact that her nipples had hardened into achy, wanton buds. “Then tell me what it is.”
    He took another swig from his flask and observed her closely, seeming to study every angle of her face and form before he finally answered. “Duncan.”
    “Duncan,” Heather repeated.
    “Aye.”
    “Father Duncan?”
    He nodded. “In the flesh.”
    “What about…” She trailed off, unable to form the words without having them trip over her tongue.
    She wanted to ask him about their kiss. How a man of the cloth could hold such passion and wield it with such skill. Heather licked her lips and sat forward. “Mind sharing that drink?” Not the question she ’d wanted to ask, but her thirst was becoming overwhelming.
    Duncan strutted forward, handing her the flask. Their fingers brushed as she took it , and a tremor shook her. Dear God, how was it possible for him to have taken hold of her so easily? She was supposed to hate him. Thought she did. And yet, when he touched her—with the tips of his fingers—while passing a drink, a need for sustenance, she trembled.
    “Thank ye,” she muttered.
    Heather touched the rim of the flask to her lips and tipped it back. Knowing it wasn’t going to be water, she was still shocked by the burn that took hold as liquid fire poured onto her tongue.
    She jerked the flask away and sprayed the liquid in front of her, followed by uncontrollable coughs. “What is this?” she managed.
    “ Whisky. And ye’ve wasted a lot of it.” He snatched the flask from her and, with exaggerated movement, shoved the cork back in place. “I forget ye’re but a bairn.” Grabbing hold of a skin from where he’d placed his things, he tossed it to her.
    Heather had good reflexes and had played catch enough that she easily reached out to snatch the tossed waterskin from the air. Duncan’s eyes widened in surprise.
    “Did ye hope I’d drop it?” she asked with a bit of snippiness. ’Haps he’d thought her catching the apple earlier that day had been chance.
    Duncan chuckled. “Nay. I had hoped it would knock ye over.”
    “Hmph. Ye’ll need a lot more than a waterskin to knock me over.” She popped the cork and chugged the lukewarm, slightly scummy water. As unladylike as it was, she was once more spitting and swiping at her tongue and lips with the back of her hand. “Ugh, where did ye get this?”
    Duncan shrugged. “I dinna drink water.”
    “How old is it?” she asked, eyes narrowing with concern, her stomach already roiling with the need to heave.
    Again he shrugged.
    Oh, God, if only she’d not spilled her own supply. Heather threw down the waterskin and made a run for the door, needing to expunge the slimy, who-knew-what water. But Duncan stopped her, his arm slinging around her waist.
    “Where do ye think y e’re