Read Online X Marks the Scot by Victoria Roberts - Free Book Online

Sleeping in the same room as MacGregor—she shivered at the thought. She could not deny the spark of excitement at the prospect of sharing such personal space, but her cynical inner voice cut through her private musings.
    She was nothing to him.
    Liadain shifted from foot to foot. “MacGregor, we cannae reside in the same chamber. We clearly cannae.”
    He simply raised his brow. “’Tis late, healer, and ye donna take any of my suggestions. Where do ye plan to sleep?” He paused. “If ye willnae seek Lady Cranborne, ye have nay choice. Ye will stay with me. Ye can trust me. I will sleep on the floor.”
    “ Trust ye? ’Tisnae about trust, MacGregor. ’Tis just nae proper that we share quarters.”
    Folding his arms over his chest, he stood to his full height, towering over her. “I am nae going to stand here all eve and debate what is proper or nae when I only look after your safety. Suit yourself, healer.” He turned abruptly and strode away from her.
    She quickened her steps to catch up with him. “Wait! Where are ye going?”
    Turning, he threw up his hands in the air. “I told ye. I seek my bed. If ye are too stubborn to stay with me, mayhap I will seek a willing lass or two .” He turned up his smile a notch.
    The man knew he had her cornered. What was she to do? Ask Lady Cranborne? She wanted to stay as far away from Robert as physically possible. She was completely irritated, and MacGregor irked her more than anything.
    Before she realized what she did, she threw her sack at him, hitting his massive chest with a thump. “Ye will sleep upon the floor,” she insisted, poking him in the chest.
    MacGregor’s smug expression lasted the entire way to his chamber. Pushing open the door, he gave her a roguish grin. “Welcome to my chamber, my lady,” he said in a silky voice and gestured her in.
    “More like the lion’s den,” she muttered, brushing past him.
    Liadain wondered how she could be expected to stay here. The room even smelled of his spicy scent. She would just need to keep reminding herself that he was a rogue—a very handsome one, but a rogue nonetheless.
    He dropped her sack on the bed, grabbed a blanket, and spread it on the floor. Not speaking a word, he started to remove his courtly attire.
    She looked away. Perhaps it was her uneasiness, but the room was getting extremely warm.
    “I hope ye donna mind, but I donna wear clothes to bed.” His voice was a soothing murmur that sent a tingling shimmer down her spine.
    Not able to stand the awkwardness, she slapped her hands over her face and groaned. “MacGregor! Will ye please ?”
    “Pray untwist your knotted self, healer. I don my plaid.”
    Hesitantly, she lowered her hands and cast him a quick look. His chest was bare and a plaid grazed his hips—very low on his hips, but he was more or less covered.
    The man was massive, filled with self-confidence, and he had a ruggedness and vital power that she couldn’t deny. She needed to keep telling herself that even though he was certainly fair of face, he was sinful enough to make any woman—well, every woman—fall under his spell.
    He nodded to her sack. “Undress, healer. Surely ye willnae wear your gown to bed. I will turn. Let me know if ye need assistance,” he spoke with an obvious hidden meaning. MacGregor lowered himself to the floor and turned his back—his very broad back.
    Liadain froze, staring at the delicious sight before her. If there was ever a perfect specimen for a man, it would be MacGregor.
    “I donna hear ye changing your clothes. Mayhap ye do need my help, eh?” He smirked.
    He was so arrogant. Looking around for the first thing she could find, she tossed her pillow at him.
    He grunted. “Why is it ye keep throwing things at me?”
    “If ye would cease acting as a rogue, mayhap I wouldnae need to throw things at ye.”
    “I am nae acting.”
    She gritted her teeth. “MacGregor!”
    A warm chuckle answered her. With some careful wriggling, Liadain was able