“Alaric?”
Keeley’s voice drifted through the wood barrier and he went still, a drying cloth in his hand.
“Aye.”
“Are you well? Do you need help?”
He was sorely tempted to tell her aye, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that underhanded.
“Look in my chest at the foot of the bed and bring me a clean pair of trews.”
A moment later she put her hand around the side of the barrier and held out his trews to him.
“Are you sure you’ll be able to get them on?” she asked doubtfully.
“I’ll manage.”
Several painful minutes later, he trudged around the side of the barrier, sure he was as white as a sheet. She took one look at him and immediately wrapped her arm around his waist, taking care not to touch his wound.
“You should have let me help you,” she chided. “You’re in pain.”
He eased onto the bed with her help and positioned himself on his back. His strength was flagging, but he held up his hand to her.
“Lie with me, Keeley. We both have need of rest. I’ll sleep better with you by my side.”
Her eyes glowed and her cheeks pinkened, but she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her down to the mattress.
“ ’Tis the truth I’m tired,” she whispered.
“Aye, you have every reason to be.”
He slid his hand up and down her back and rested his chin on the top of her head. Gradually she relaxed until she was limp and soft against him.
“Keeley?”
“Aye?” she asked sleepily.
“Thank you for giving me aid and for returning with my brothers to tend me.”
She was silent for a moment, and then she slipped her hand into his. “You’re welcome, warrior.”
Chapter 11
Keeley sighed and burrowed closer to the source of heat. She gave a lazy yawn and nearly purred at the large hand rubbing up and down her back. ’Twas a wondrous way to awaken.
Then she remembered that she was in bed with Alaric McCabe and it could only be his hand wandering aimlessly across her back.
She lifted her head and found him staring down at her. His hand moved up to her hair and he gently massaged her nape. She was hesitant to speak, to break the peaceful still that had invaded the chamber.
Soft light poured through the gap in the furs at the window, and the fire had once again died down to a bed of glowing embers.
Alaric was propped above her, his long hair streaming over his broad shoulders. He looked deliciously savage, but content as well. No pain darkened his gaze. Nay, something else entirely blazed in his depths. Something that made her itchy and warm inside and out.
She licked her lips nervously and his gaze darkened further, until the green of his eyes was a slim ring around the dilated black of his pupils. His mouth parted and his breaths came in uneven jerks. His hand tightened around her nape and before she could process the situation, he pulled her to him, bending his head to meet her lips.
It was a gentle kiss. Barely a brush across her tingling mouth, but how sweet it tasted. He came back again, this time pressing his mouth to the corner of hers. His tongue lapped out, warm and rough, dragging over the curve of her mouth and then running along the seam, demanding her lips to part.
Unable to deny him anything, she opened and allowed him entrance. He probed cautiously as if savoring the first meeting of their tongues. In a delicate dance, the tips dueled, withdrawing and then advancing more boldly, brushing over the other in a heady rasp.
“You taste so sweet,” Alaric whispered.
His voice sent shivers down her spine, but it also awakened her to what they were doing. She was lying in his bed, half sprawled atop him while he kissed her senseless.
And he was betrothed to another.
That last thought was as effective as dousing her with cold water.
“Keeley, what is it?”
She pried herself from his grasp and put space between them, though she was still perched on his bed.
“ ’Tis wrong,” she murmured. “You are betrothed to another.”
Alaric frowned. “Who told you of this?”
She frowned back. “ ’Tis no matter who told me. ’Tis what is true. You belong to another. It isn’t right for you to kiss me and hold me so.”
“I am not betrothed to her yet.”
Keeley sighed. “ ’Tis a rotten excuse and well you know it. Do you have plans not to marry her?”
Alaric’s lips thinned, but he shook his head. “Nay. ’Tis a marriage of necessity. A union needed to secure our alliance with the McDonalds.”
It shouldn’t hurt her to hear what she already knew. What was this man to her, after all? He was naught but someone who needed her aid. Nothing more. A few shared kisses did not a future make. Surely she didn’t fancy herself in love with him?
She shook her head to rid herself of such an absurd notion. Rionna was a laird’s daughter. Keeley was nothing. She had naught to bring to a marriage save herself. No connections. No dowry. Not even the support of her clan.
“Then ’tis the wrong woman you’re kissing,” she said lightly.
Alaric sighed and leaned his head back on his pillow. “You cannot expect me to ignore this attraction between us, Keeley. I couldn’t even if I wanted. ’Tis the strongest reaction I’ve ever had to a woman. I burn for you, lass.”
Keeley closed her eyes. Her throat tightened and she swallowed against the restriction. When she reopened them, she saw answering agony in Alaric’s gaze.
“Tell me, warrior. What happens to me?” she asked softly. “Am I to give myself to you only to watch you wed another? What becomes of me when you become laird of the McDonald clan?”
Alaric reached out to touch her cheek. “I would see you well cared for. You have to know that. I would do nothing to cause you shame or disgrace.”
She smiled faintly. Shame and disgrace were things she was well accustomed to. “If you care for me at all, you’ll not pursue whatever is between us.”
He looked as if he would argue, but she pressed her finger over his lips in gentle reproach.
“ ’Tis dawn now. We’ve slept the night away. I must see to your wound and call for a meal to break your fast. Then I must see your laird to determine my place in this keep.”
“He’ll see to your care,” Alaric said tightly. “If he doesn’t, he’ll answer to me.”