The Highwayman by Kerrigan Byrne

Author:Kerrigan Byrne
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466887404
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Good morning, Mrs. Blackwell!” Daylight burst into the room, jarring Farah awake as drapes slid along their rails, grappled by a cheerful Murdoch. “I trust ye slept well?”

The sun battled its way through high white clouds and low gray mist, but still managed an illuminating brilliance.

Only in the Highlands.

“Good morning, Murdoch.” Farah yawned, blinking the film of sleep from her vision. “What time is it?”

“I let ye sleep as late as I dare, lass, but Blackwe—Jesus Christ Almighty, the bloody oaf tied ye up?”

Startled, Farah tested the movements of her arm, only just becoming aware that her left hand was still above her head, secured by Dougan’s plaid to the headboard. She must have been so exhausted last night that she’d drifted off without untying herself.

Farah looked up at the hand that had since lost all feeling resting limply against the mattress and headboard, wrapped in a faded cloth woven with black, gold, and blue.

A reminder of what binds us, she thought. The interpretation of her husband’s words now alarmingly literal rather than just figurative.

Murdoch rushed to her side, reminding her that she’d also fallen asleep quite nude. Grasping the bedclothes to her chest, she allowed him to work the knot free.

“No wonder he lit out of here this morning like the devil chased him. He knew we’d all turn on him and flay his skin from his bones with a dull knife for treating ye like this. And on yer wedding night! I doona care if he is Dorian bloody Blackwell, when I see him I’m going to—”

“It’s all right, Murdoch,” Farah soothed, testing her tingling fingers once they were released and wincing as the blood rushed back with little needles of fire. “It needed to be done in order to—You see, I reached for him in a moment of…” Farah closed her eyes against the blush heating her skin. When she opened them again, Murdoch regarded her with a mixture of regret and understanding, carefully handing her plaid back to her.

“He didna hurt ye, did he?”

Farah shook her head, sitting up and inspecting the faint bruises around her wrists, and testing the twinges and aches in muscles she’d never before been aware of. “I rather think last night was more difficult for him than for me.”

“Aye.” Murdoch nodded his agreement. “I imagine so. This isna like him…”

Farah’s lips lifted in a sardonic smile. “I would have guessed this is exactly like him.”

“Not when it comes to ye,” Murdoch insisted.

“What do you mean?”

The burly Scot cast his eyes away and turned from her, gathering familiar lacy underthings from where they draped, and laid them out for her at the foot of the bed along with her silk polonaise that she’d worn the night of her abduction. “I only meant that ye’re Dougan’s Fairy. He should have been gentle and taken great care with ye.”

Memories of the previous night singed through her with a vibrant thrill. Dorian hadn’t been gentle, per se, though … “He was—careful,” Farah acknowledged. “There’s no reason to be cross with him.

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