Sinful Scot by Johnstone Julie & Mecca Cecelia

Author:Johnstone, Julie & Mecca, Cecelia
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical Romance
Publisher: Darbyshire Publishing LLC
Published: 2020-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The giant trees are bending

Their bare boughs weighed with snow;

The storm is fast descending,

And yet I cannot go.

~ Emily Brontë, “Spellbound”

She didn’t know how long she’d been watching him sleep, but her legs were starting to tingle, alerting her to the fact that they were becoming numb from kneeling. The sun was battling the thick, snow-laden clouds to break through the sky, and every once in a while a slash of light would glow from above and shine down on Rhys. Her breath would catch all over again at how captivating he was, even in slumber. The dark shadow of the stubble he’d had when she’d met him a week ago had grown thicker, lending a more rugged appearance to his face. His cheekbones were more prominent than before, and she bit her lip with the knowledge that he was likely not getting enough to eat. His ebony hair needed a washing, but she still wanted to plunge her fingers into it just to see what it felt like. She denied the urge, for one thing remained completely unchanged, even in sleep: he exuded dangerous power. And one did not awaken a wolf.

She sighed, yet still she did not move. He was beautiful. It wasn’t the right word to describe a man, she knew, especially one built so solidly, but he reminded her of things she thought were striking and vast and deadly in their own ways. A lightning-filled sky. A turbulent sea. Icy, snow-packed hills. It was that thought about snow and the flakes starting to fall from above that finally forced her to move.

She stood, her legs burning from her long-held position, and made her way to the woods to collect the additional herbs she needed to make a poultice for Rhys’s wounds. They looked better, but still had much healing to do. She didn’t doubt they hurt, but he’d cradled her all night until she’d awoken near dawn and found she was in his lap with her cheek against his chest. That was the first moment she’d thought to flee to Kinghorn, but she could not make herself go. Not yet. Not even when she thought about how her sister was likely worried sick and how she needed to make her way there to explain things. Not even though she was fearful of what he would tell her when he woke.

She needed to hear what had happened to him before she went back to Kinghorn. Could he prove he was Shona’s son from the future?

No, it was a foolish notion. Why was she even entertaining that he could?

Ye have a seed of doubt.

Devil take that seed! It was his eyes! She could not dismiss that she’d only once before seen eyes the same shade—in Shona MacKinnish’s one silver-gray eye. But it wasn’t just that, she thought, searching around for and finally finding hemlock and henbane. There was also the matter of his odd dress and speech. But those things alone did not prove his astonishing claims.

She paused, her fingertips hovering above a willow, and she sucked in a sharp breath of realization.

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