So I Married A Highlander by Kate McKinley

Author:Kate McKinley [McKinley, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-10-30T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

By the time they reached anything resembling civilization, both Alec and Evelyn were drenched through to the bone. Silvery moonlight broke through the clouds and bathed the landscape as they trudged through nearly four miles of mud. Sharp, biting rain pelted them from all sides, making visibility near impossible.

It was well past nightfall when they reached the small village—though in all actuality, it wasn’t a village at all. The hamlet consisted of little more than a posting inn and a single cottage.

Nonetheless, sweet, heavenly warmth washed over her the moment they stepped through the door, and Evelyn couldn’t help it—she sighed in contentment. Every muscle ached and the sooner she got to a bed, the sooner she could curl up under the covers and collapse into blissful oblivion.

They stood there for a moment, but when no one came forward, Alec motioned to a spindly chair by the low-burning fire. “Rest yerself while I go find the innkeep.”

Evelyn lowered herself into the chair, pulling her sodden cloak more tightly around her. At length, Alec returned with an older man. He was thin, balding, with a soiled apron tied around his waist. He carried a candle in his hand.

After greetings were dispensed with, he ushered them quickly up to their room—room, singular—before lighting two candles by the bedside and a fire in the hearth. Then he shuffled out of the room, returning minutes later with a fresh pitcher of water before leaving again, shutting the door firmly behind him.

The moment he was out of the room, Evelyn spun on Alec, hands on her hips. “I know what you are thinking, and you are most certainly not sharing this room with me.”

He laughed, and the low, wicked sound—drat it all—made her heart skip a beat. Whether she liked it or not, the deep timbre of his voice did things to her she’d never thought possible. “Cannae a man sleep with his own wife?”

She scoffed at his continued—and deliberate—use of the word wife. He was purposely trying to vex her. “No, he most certainly cannot. Not this wife, in any event. I require my own room. You will simply have to make other arrangements.”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he untucked his mud-spattered shirt from his equally muddied breeches. Without a word, he pulled the shirt over his head, and dropped it at his feet. Miles of taut muscle lined his stomach and arms, flexing deliciously with each movement, rendering Evelyn utterly speechless.

He moved over to the basin, poured water into the bowl, and washed the specks of mud off his arms and face. A small towel hung on a hook by the fire, and he used it to dry himself.

It never seemed to fail. Her heart raced in response to seeing him only half-clothed. He was like a Greek statue, hard, chiseled, and utterly breathtaking, and for a fleeting moment, Evelyn wondered what it would be like to run her tongue along each taut sinew.

Then he lowered himself onto the bed, and removed his boots.

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