Read Online Torn Between Two Highlanders by Laurel Adams - Free Book Online
Authors: Laurel Adams
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crofter from the village, they’re likely to know it for a lie. I might’ve done wrong, lass, to send him away. And in this weather, no less.”
“Is it really snowing?” Arabella asked. “This early in the year?”
“ Och , aye. Coming down in big flakes. Which could be good news or bad news, depending?”
“On what?”
“If the Donald war bands have already found shelter, they’ll stay where they are until the storm passes over. That would be good. Give Malcolm time to heal. Give us time to set out for the castle. But if our enemies are not sheltered, this cozy little cottage with smoke rising up from a warm fire will be as inviting as any house they ever laid eyes upon.”
So it was all luck, Arabella thought. If fate turned one way, they might all live to a ripe old age. If it turned another, they’d be dead by morning, all three of them. And as she walked back to the cottage beside Davy, seeking shelter in his warmth against the falling snow, she felt a dread to the marrow of her bones.
They found Malcolm asleep in his chair by the fire—blissfully unaware of the encounter with the tinker. But his breathing wasn’t rapid and labored as it had been before; she didn’t think he’d lost consciousness again. He seemed in genuine slumber, and Arabella marveled at the strength of his constitution. But she still felt the icy dread that night, when Davy was so worn down from keeping watch that he was all-but-dozing while standing up by the door.
Malcolm awakened only to insist that Arabella take the bed.
“And where will you and Davy rest?” she asked.
“On the floor,” Malcolm said, apparently determined to kill himself.
Fortunately, Davy wasn’t having it. “Leave me the chair and share the bed with her again, you bloody bastard. And know that I won’t make the offer again tomorrow night even if you’re still half-dead.”
“Tomorrow night?” Malcolm asked. “We can’t afford three days holed up here. If I’m not well enough to ride in the morning, you take the lass and go.”
Davy snorted. “Are you deaf? Listen to that howling wind. Have a peek out the door if you like. The snow is already up to my knees and if it doesn’t let up soon…”
They’d be stuck here , Arabella thought. It wouldn’t be the first time, she thought. Davy had told her that story about being trapped with Malcolm in the snows once before. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now she found herself glad to be in the company of two men who were so resourceful.
Either the Donalds would come upon them tonight and slaughter them, or they would be stuck in place by the snows, too. There was nothing to do but wait. But she was not going to wait for men to take her virtue.
And she was not going to wait for death never knowing the pleasures of life.
Perhaps it was the time she had spent crouched down by the chickens, contemplating falling into the clutches of men who cared nothing for her. Or perhaps it was only the thrill of fear still thrumming in her blood. But in taking her hair down for bed, she asked, “How does it work?”
Both men eyed her curiously.
“How does what work?” Davy asked.
“When you’ve…when you’ve taken a woman…together.” She burned with embarrassment to ask the question, but she was rewarded by Davy’s keen smile and Malcolm’s intense interest.
“Do you mean what positions we take?” Malcolm asked.
Arabella’s stomach flipped, trying to imagine how many positions there were.
Fortunately, the men didn’t wait for her to answer.
“Sometimes we have a girl on her knees,” Davy explained, greatly warming to the subject. “Sucking one of us while the other takes her from behind. That’s Mal’s favorite way, but I like the ways that don’t involve my staring at his ugly mug.”
Ugly? Her eyes cut to Malcolm, who didn’t seem insulted by the remark. But she was insulted on his behalf. Yes, his face was scarred and like granite. Hard, stony, and
“Is it really snowing?” Arabella asked. “This early in the year?”
“ Och , aye. Coming down in big flakes. Which could be good news or bad news, depending?”
“On what?”
“If the Donald war bands have already found shelter, they’ll stay where they are until the storm passes over. That would be good. Give Malcolm time to heal. Give us time to set out for the castle. But if our enemies are not sheltered, this cozy little cottage with smoke rising up from a warm fire will be as inviting as any house they ever laid eyes upon.”
So it was all luck, Arabella thought. If fate turned one way, they might all live to a ripe old age. If it turned another, they’d be dead by morning, all three of them. And as she walked back to the cottage beside Davy, seeking shelter in his warmth against the falling snow, she felt a dread to the marrow of her bones.
They found Malcolm asleep in his chair by the fire—blissfully unaware of the encounter with the tinker. But his breathing wasn’t rapid and labored as it had been before; she didn’t think he’d lost consciousness again. He seemed in genuine slumber, and Arabella marveled at the strength of his constitution. But she still felt the icy dread that night, when Davy was so worn down from keeping watch that he was all-but-dozing while standing up by the door.
Malcolm awakened only to insist that Arabella take the bed.
“And where will you and Davy rest?” she asked.
“On the floor,” Malcolm said, apparently determined to kill himself.
Fortunately, Davy wasn’t having it. “Leave me the chair and share the bed with her again, you bloody bastard. And know that I won’t make the offer again tomorrow night even if you’re still half-dead.”
“Tomorrow night?” Malcolm asked. “We can’t afford three days holed up here. If I’m not well enough to ride in the morning, you take the lass and go.”
Davy snorted. “Are you deaf? Listen to that howling wind. Have a peek out the door if you like. The snow is already up to my knees and if it doesn’t let up soon…”
They’d be stuck here , Arabella thought. It wouldn’t be the first time, she thought. Davy had told her that story about being trapped with Malcolm in the snows once before. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now she found herself glad to be in the company of two men who were so resourceful.
Either the Donalds would come upon them tonight and slaughter them, or they would be stuck in place by the snows, too. There was nothing to do but wait. But she was not going to wait for men to take her virtue.
And she was not going to wait for death never knowing the pleasures of life.
Perhaps it was the time she had spent crouched down by the chickens, contemplating falling into the clutches of men who cared nothing for her. Or perhaps it was only the thrill of fear still thrumming in her blood. But in taking her hair down for bed, she asked, “How does it work?”
Both men eyed her curiously.
“How does what work?” Davy asked.
“When you’ve…when you’ve taken a woman…together.” She burned with embarrassment to ask the question, but she was rewarded by Davy’s keen smile and Malcolm’s intense interest.
“Do you mean what positions we take?” Malcolm asked.
Arabella’s stomach flipped, trying to imagine how many positions there were.
Fortunately, the men didn’t wait for her to answer.
“Sometimes we have a girl on her knees,” Davy explained, greatly warming to the subject. “Sucking one of us while the other takes her from behind. That’s Mal’s favorite way, but I like the ways that don’t involve my staring at his ugly mug.”
Ugly? Her eyes cut to Malcolm, who didn’t seem insulted by the remark. But she was insulted on his behalf. Yes, his face was scarred and like granite. Hard, stony, and
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