Read Online X Marks the Scot by Victoria Roberts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Victoria Roberts
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to remove her gown on her own. Hastily, she donned her nightrail and climbed into bed. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she cleared her throat.
“Do ye want me to blow out the candle?”
“Nay. Leave it lest ye trip over me,” he said, turning over and tossing her the pillow. “Do ye know why someone would do that to your chamber, lass? Mayhap they were searching for something.”
She shook her head. “What could they be looking for? I donna have anything of importance—only my herbs.”
“Donna fret upon it. Just sleep now, healer. Ye are safe.”
Liadain smiled at his attempt to reassure her. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes and there was a heavy silence. How could she possibly sleep knowing the man was on the floor barely clothed? As she rolled onto her back, her eyes flew open and she intently studied the ceiling for some time, watching the light flicker as shadows danced against the wall.
She tried to force her emotions into order, but they were not listening at all. This was ridiculous. Hearing his gentle rhythmic breathing, she knew he slept. She swore men could sleep anywhere at any given time. Did nothing bother them? Did they never lose sleep?
Probably not.
Lifting herself up on her elbows, she stole a lingering glance at him. His arm rested atop his head, blocking her view of his face. His plaid had separated and she could see part of his bare thigh. Blood coursed through her veins like a raging river, and her heart thumped erratically. Even knowing he was a complete and utter scoundrel did not cause her impure thoughts to cease. She began to wonder just what she wanted of him. Flopping back down, she let out a loud, frustrated sigh.
“I could always join ye and it wouldnae be such torture, lass.”
He was awake!
“Ye are fine right where ye are,” she said, speaking the first words that came to mind.
“Aye, but are ye ?”
Sitting up, she punched the lumps out of her pillow and sank back down on the bed, turning away from him—out of sight, out of mind. This was going to be the longest night of her life.
Seven
Declan awoke with a start. Someone called to him from the other side of the door, their impatient pounding driving him mad. It was too early for such madness. All he knew was that it had better not be that witless Percy in a drunken stupor.
“MacGregor,” whispered the healer from the bed.
Slowly pulling himself to his feet, he rubbed his aching back. “I am coming. Will ye cease?” he shouted at the door.
“MacGregor!” called the healer, her voice full of alarm.
Casting a quick glance, her saw that her raven tresses were tousled, hanging over her shoulders as she clutched the blankets to her chest. For a brief moment, he could almost imagine his fingers running through the loose tendrils. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Damn . He had never seen her more beautiful.
The healer’s voice broke through his musings and she eyed him with concern. “MacGregor?”
Declan’s eyes roamed over her and he winked at her boldly. “Ye worry overmuch, healer.” Approaching the door, he opened it slowly, positioning his body to block the view to the bed. Cranborne’s hand was midair.
Declan raised a brow. “Cranborne.”
The man nodded in greeting. “MacGregor, my apologies for disturbing you, but I cannot find Lady—”
“Then why are ye here?” Declan asked impatiently. The man was clearly preoccupied with something. His clothes were in total disarray and his hair was standing on end.
As if Cranborne sensed Declan’s scrutiny, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I went to her chamber and no one answered. I thought you may have seen her or know where she is. My wife is unwell. Something is wrong and she has not felt the babe for some time. I need to find Lady Campbell.”
Declan heard a loud gasp behind him as Cranborne held an unreadable expression upon his face. With lightning speed, the man swung open the door, pushing his
“Do ye want me to blow out the candle?”
“Nay. Leave it lest ye trip over me,” he said, turning over and tossing her the pillow. “Do ye know why someone would do that to your chamber, lass? Mayhap they were searching for something.”
She shook her head. “What could they be looking for? I donna have anything of importance—only my herbs.”
“Donna fret upon it. Just sleep now, healer. Ye are safe.”
Liadain smiled at his attempt to reassure her. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes and there was a heavy silence. How could she possibly sleep knowing the man was on the floor barely clothed? As she rolled onto her back, her eyes flew open and she intently studied the ceiling for some time, watching the light flicker as shadows danced against the wall.
She tried to force her emotions into order, but they were not listening at all. This was ridiculous. Hearing his gentle rhythmic breathing, she knew he slept. She swore men could sleep anywhere at any given time. Did nothing bother them? Did they never lose sleep?
Probably not.
Lifting herself up on her elbows, she stole a lingering glance at him. His arm rested atop his head, blocking her view of his face. His plaid had separated and she could see part of his bare thigh. Blood coursed through her veins like a raging river, and her heart thumped erratically. Even knowing he was a complete and utter scoundrel did not cause her impure thoughts to cease. She began to wonder just what she wanted of him. Flopping back down, she let out a loud, frustrated sigh.
“I could always join ye and it wouldnae be such torture, lass.”
He was awake!
“Ye are fine right where ye are,” she said, speaking the first words that came to mind.
“Aye, but are ye ?”
Sitting up, she punched the lumps out of her pillow and sank back down on the bed, turning away from him—out of sight, out of mind. This was going to be the longest night of her life.
Seven
Declan awoke with a start. Someone called to him from the other side of the door, their impatient pounding driving him mad. It was too early for such madness. All he knew was that it had better not be that witless Percy in a drunken stupor.
“MacGregor,” whispered the healer from the bed.
Slowly pulling himself to his feet, he rubbed his aching back. “I am coming. Will ye cease?” he shouted at the door.
“MacGregor!” called the healer, her voice full of alarm.
Casting a quick glance, her saw that her raven tresses were tousled, hanging over her shoulders as she clutched the blankets to her chest. For a brief moment, he could almost imagine his fingers running through the loose tendrils. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked. Damn . He had never seen her more beautiful.
The healer’s voice broke through his musings and she eyed him with concern. “MacGregor?”
Declan’s eyes roamed over her and he winked at her boldly. “Ye worry overmuch, healer.” Approaching the door, he opened it slowly, positioning his body to block the view to the bed. Cranborne’s hand was midair.
Declan raised a brow. “Cranborne.”
The man nodded in greeting. “MacGregor, my apologies for disturbing you, but I cannot find Lady—”
“Then why are ye here?” Declan asked impatiently. The man was clearly preoccupied with something. His clothes were in total disarray and his hair was standing on end.
As if Cranborne sensed Declan’s scrutiny, he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “I went to her chamber and no one answered. I thought you may have seen her or know where she is. My wife is unwell. Something is wrong and she has not felt the babe for some time. I need to find Lady Campbell.”
Declan heard a loud gasp behind him as Cranborne held an unreadable expression upon his face. With lightning speed, the man swung open the door, pushing his
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