Highland Heart by Heather McCollum

Author:Heather McCollum [McCollum, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical romance, Scotland, highlander, enemies to lovers, Magic, paranormal romance, Hostage, Witchcraft, Tudors, Warrior
ISBN: 9781622669950
Google: 2mU7l-_8FbQC
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2012-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

She was his? What did that mean? Rachel mulled over the three simple words that seemed more binding than the iron bars of Alec’s dungeon. Now bathed and dressed in a blue gown, Rachel waited with Isabelle for an escort to the evening meal. She and her sister were now guests. Their father was housed in one of the cramped servants’ quarters, but he probably deserved worse. Rachel sighed. Her father’s morals had turned dark ever since their mother had died. His whole life now revolved around material wealth and finding a higher placement in the hierarchical ladder at court.

“So he’s the chief,” Isabelle commented, her raised eyebrows adding unspoken questions. The edges of her mouth turned up subtly.

Rachel nodded with a meek shrug.

“And he captured you outside the Macbain’s castle.” Since Isabelle had already interrogated her earlier, Rachel didn’t feel the need to respond. “And you spent…a whole night together in a cave wearing only your shift.”

Rachel ran her fingertip along the beaded pattern embellishing her snug velvet bodice. A long pause stretched.

“Did you kiss him?” Isabelle whispered.

Rachel’s gaze snapped to her sister.

Isabelle laid her hand on Rachel’s wrist, where the bruise remained from her rescue. A faint light gave Rachel’s skin a bluish tint as Isabelle dissolved the pools of blood beneath her skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered as Isabelle smoothed the now healthy-looking skin. Rachel was certain her sister could also detect her deep blush and the way her heart raced.

Isabelle smiled broadly. “He’s quite handsome in a robust, wild type of way.”

“It wasn’t like that, Isabelle,” Rachel defended.

“How was it?”

“He’d just pulled me up out of the hole. I was panicky, grateful, overwhelmed.”

“Hmm…overwhelmed,” Isabelle said as if understanding, even though Rachel knew her sister had never been overwhelmed in that way before.

A sharp rapping on the door made them both jump off the bed. A smiling face peeked around the door. “Time to sup.” A little gray-haired lady with more wrinkles than last year’s apples beckoned them.

Rachel and Isabelle grasped hands as they followed the maid down the winding steps. They walked on silent slippers under an archway into the great hall. A churning tide of deep, guttural voices ebbed, slowly fading to silence as all eyes turned toward them. Isabelle nearly squeezed the blood from Rachel’s hand. The only women in the room whisked around with platters of meat and baskets of bread. Two long tables with short benches held tankards and bread trenchers along their polished surfaces. Their father was absent.

Rachel spotted Alec easily by the hearth—his height and breadth set him apart. Even with the loose linen shirt covering his chest, the broad strength of his form could not be concealed. She swallowed, recalling the smooth, hot skin of his stomach, the soft sprinkling of hair across his chest, the thin lines of scars giving evidence of his continued survival in this harsh land. Her inhalation cut off when she met his smoldering gaze. She couldn’t look away. It was as if an invisible tether tied her.

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