Page 19 of Highlander’s Ancient Vengeance

She opened her eyes for a moment, looked into his, and smiled slightly. “Craig,” she said groggily, then her eyes closed again.

He was incredibly relieved to see her smile, but worried when she passed out. It was beginning to rain again so he swept her up in his arms and took her into the church, then he laid her tenderly on one of the pews and went to fetch a candle so that he could inspect her properly. He felt all over for breaks in her arms, legs, and ribs, but thankfully he found none, although he suspected that she would develop some painful and colorful bruises all over her body in the days to come. He was worried that she had injured her head, though; that was much more serious than a bruise, which would heal in a few days.

He lifted her onto his lap and put his arms around her, then held her close to him, waiting for her to regain consciousness. If she had not been in such a bad way this would be heavenly, he thought, nestling in each other’s arms peacefully and sharing each other’s warmth.

“God, bring her back to me and I will never say another angry word to her,” he whispered. Then, as if in answer to his prayer, her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed at him again, but this time recognition dawned in her eyes.

He breathed out a deep sigh of relief, and gathered her closer, feeling her wet hair slide across his face. “Oh, God Malle, I thought you were dead,” he breathed.

“Not yet, Craig,” she whispered huskily. She put her hand to her forehead. “Although I feel as if I might be very soon!” She laughed, then winced.

“Don’t say that!” he said angrily. “Don’t ever say that!”

“I was only jesting.” She rubbed her forehead again, not because it eased the pain, but because it gave her something to do to distract her from it. She became acutely aware of being in Craig’s arms, her head cuddling closely under his chin, and knew that if she had not been in so much pain it would have felt blissful.

“I never thought I would be lying in the arms of a Dunbar,” she mused, only half aware of what she was saying.

He looked at her, surprised. “Do you like it?” he asked softly.

“I do,” she replied, smiling.

“And I like holding a MacEwan,” he said tenderly. He cupped her face with one hand and ran his thumb down her cheekbone.

“I feel safe with you,” she whispered. “I know you will never hurt me, and I have never felt like that with any other man, not that I have much experience. My father makes me feel like that too, but you are not like him.”

“He is a fine man.” Craig smiled at her fondly. “And you, Malle, are a very fine woman.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. The gray eyes looking into hers were warm and shining, and suddenly she realized something. She loved him, this big, strong man who could be so fierce and yet so tender. “Hold me tighter, please,” she said, her voice husky and pleading.

“Are you not sore?” he asked, frowning.

She shook her head. “Not if you hold me,” she replied, and he pulled her more closely into the shelter of his arms. She felt his breath on her hair and heard the rapid, steady thudding of his heart, and realized there was nowhere else she wanted to be. She moaned with happiness, then he tilted her chin up so that their faces were almost touching, and although he said nothing, there was a question in his eyes.

Malle answered it by looking at his firm, well-shaped lips, then back at his eyes, then he touched his mouth to hers, very softly, as if afraid to hurt her.

However, she was not in pain. The ache in her head had lessened, or at least she had ceased to notice it as his lips caressed hers, and he moved his hand gently from her shoulder and arm, to her hip and thigh, then back to her face again, and she moaned in pleasure. He had kissed her before, but not gently and sensually like this. Eventually he drew away, but he could not seem to look away from her.

“Oh, Malle MacEwan,” he murmured, running his thumb over the lips he had just kissed. “I am so in love with you.”

I must have heard wrongly, she thought, her eyes widening in disbelief. Then she looked deeply into his eyes and realized that she had not.

“I love you too,” she replied, hardly believing the words that were coming from her own mouth.

They stared at each other for a moment, then kissed again, and this time it was a hungry, passionate exchange, and Malle felt desire shoot through her in a way that she never had before. She wanted to stay like this, in his arms, cradled against his body forever.

If Craig had been able to, he would have held her that way forever too. He loved everything about her, and he knew that it was never going to change. At last, after knowing so many different women, he had found the love of his life.

The truth hit them at the same time. He was a Dunbar and she was a MacEwan, and they could never be together while their families were still at war.

“This is madness, Craig,” she murmured sadly. “I wish we could be together. You are not like any man I have ever known before, but our families will never allow it.”

“Then damn our families!” he growled. “Malle, we only have one life to live and love. We may die tomorrow. Look what happened today! It could have been so much worse. We are young, and we have to live for today.”

“Our families are feuding, and have been for centuries,” she pointed out, shaking her head.

“There is a truce,” he replied. “Malle, this stupid feud does not concern us. We can leave. We can run away.”

She shook her head again and rubbed her forehead, realizing that the pain was coming back. “I could not do that to my parents.”