Page 5 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
Averting his gaze from the blush that had spread over her cheeks, he turned to the window beside him. The night sky stretched silver beneath a waxing moon through the trees, two nights before it would be full again. Too much time had already passed.
Turning back to Fiona, he nodded at her. “Do ye ken a man named Iain Kerr?” he asked gruffly, still a little sore and aroused at the same time.
“Aye,” the healer nodded from her position beside the table.
“Send for him. He must meet me at the standing stones of Callanish when the moon is full. Say nothin’ else,” he ordered sharply.
“Ye lay right back down.” She raised an eyebrow and scolded him when he attempted to push himself up on his elbows.
Groaning as he rolled his eyes, Callum clenched his jaw and lay back down. “Just send the letter.”
Cackling under her breath, Fiona walked toward the door, gently rousing the raven as she whispered to him. It was almost enchanting to watch as she took a small piece of parchment from the perch beneath his feet and used a small stick of coal to write a note. She lifted the roused raven from his perch and opened the door, letting in a cold breeze before shutting it behind her again.
Alone in the cabin, Callum turned his gaze to her.
She stood quietly back in her place, crushing the herbs with a slow twirl and dip of her wrist.
Who is the lass?
Suspicions suddenly took over as he thought back and could not recall Fiona using her name. Where had she come from? Was she an apprentice? It was unlikely that the infamous Fiona MacRae had taken someone under her wing, but here the lass was.
Quietly pushing himself up, he gritted his teeth and gripped the hide, concealing his mid-section as he made a makeshift covering and tucked it in.
He had not thought of it before, but it was too risky to have so many people see him alive. Fiona would not speak, but he did not know the lass. Now that he was fully in his senses, he needed to find out, and fast.
Creeping across the room, he kept his steps quiet, calling on his years of hunting and battle experience.
“Who are ye?” he breathed beside her ear.
Her body went rigid as her hand froze mid-rotation.
“I asked, lass, who are ye? Daenae keep me waitin’.” He lifted a hand to her shoulder, gently pushing her hair aside as he whispered in her ear. “I am nae a man who is kent for his patience…” The tips of his fingers brushed the tender skin of her shoulder as he inhaled the fresh scent of clean linen and lavender.
“I… I daenae think I owe ye an explanation.” Her voice was softer than silk, a little husky and warm as she whispered back in a fierce tone. The sound sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, yet he forced his thoughts back to the task at hand.
“Ye are tryin’ me, lass, and I must warn ye, many men have tried and failed.” He gripped her shoulder lightly, bringing his other hand up to her waist as he drew her closer. The warmth of her body was maddening to him, yet he kept her close.
The corner of his eye caught a quick glint of steel as she placed the mortar and pestle back on the table and lowered her hands.
She is feisty, bonnie, but feisty.
“Ye say they have tried and failed, yet I found ye beside the road in need of help,” she said defiantly, shifting her position ever so slightly to the left.
His movements were far too quick for her as he spun her around and pressed her against the wall beside the table, taking each of her wrists in his hands.
Her chest rose and fell with every breath as she glared at him, her lips full and slightly parted.
The thought of pressing his lips against her crossed his mind, but he quickly shook it off and lifted her wrist, pressing the back of her hand against the cold stone wall. “And just what were yeplannin’ on doin’ with this dirk?” His eyes traveled to the steel blade as his lips lifted into a smirk.
So many men would have plunged it deep into his chest, yet she did not seem like the type of woman who could have wielded such force.
He used one quick motion to shake the dirk from her hand, kicking it back across the room almost as soon as the steel clattered against the floor.
Her lips parted again as she narrowed her eyes to glare at him. “I thought I might need it for strange lads, and judgin’ by yer actions, I think I may have been right,” she hissed bitterly, attempting to wriggle her wrist free.
“Daenae fight, lass, I willnae harm ye if ye answer me questions.” He felt a pang of amusement when she continued to shimmy, trying to escape his grip. Her body pressed into his with every movement as he felt the hide shifting to the side.
Looking down, she froze, heat rising in her cheeks as she dragged her gaze up the toned muscles of his abdomen and chest.
