Page 32 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

10

That night, her dreams were hot and feverish. It was not warm, but laying next to Andrew's body in the tent, Grace felt the heat.

It had taken her long enough to get to sleep, the trace of his scent still on her, the imprint of his kiss on her skin. His embrace had taken her by surprise. One time, they were arguing; the next, they were kissing. Just like that. With no warning at all.

And once she had started, Grace felt as if she could never stop. With the taste of him on her lips, his sensual touch, she was surprised just how fast he had drawn her in.

But the aftermath had been tricky. Ever since then, they had been skirting around the issue, trying to pretend it hadn't happened...but it had.

Shrugging it off, Grace had smiled and suggested they settle down for the night. Even as she had suggested it, she had wondered how he would take it. Would he think that she was hinting at something?

As she cocked a glance at Andrew's sleeping form, Grace could not help imagining. It was hard not to. Being so close to him, in this tent. Even in his sleep, his muscles were rippled. Grace loved the way they tensed and flexed, even while he slept. His shoulder blades protruded from beneath the makeshift bedding. They were firm and sturdy. And from under the blanket, Grace glimpsed his soft flesh beneath.

He was tanned and rugged from spending days in battle. Maybe the Highlands did not get a lot of sun, but what it lacked in heat, it made up for in wind. Whatever had done it, Grace approved of the tanned, healthy look it had given Andrew's skin.

And now he was snoring. A soft groan ebbed into the wind outside. Grace smiled. Even his snore was pleasing. Somehow, despite herself, she had found herself falling fast and hard for this man. And it had come completely out of the blue.

Grace lay on her sleepless bed and sighed. Maybe bed was an overstatement. She was lying on a couple of damp blankets, which barely plugged the bumps in the ground below.

Not that Grace cared particularly. She had lived the itinerant life for long enough, and it didn't bother her. That wasn't the reason she could not sleep. It was him.

Only six inches from her, Andrew was close enough to touch, and touch was all she wanted to do. Their kiss replayed endlessly in her dreams—when she had managed to sleep. Through fitful bursts, Grace had dreamt of holding Andrew close and bringing him to her. They had kissed, just like they had before, but slowly and more deeply. Then, he had held her, tight and hard, within his thick, muscular arms.

She had burrowed in deep to his ample chest and nestled her head in slowly. Then, she'd run a finger from his nipples to his belly button, his flesh rippling beneath her touch. It felt so real.

In her dreams, she had wrapped herself in his scent, his satin skin brushing against her own. Andrew's aroma mingled with her imagination, driving her wild.

When she awoke, she was dripping with sweat.

Sitting up, Grace's heart rocketed. It took a while for it to come under control, and as it did, she gazed wistfully at Andrew. The temptation was overwhelming; his flesh against hers, the scent of his lips as they brushed against hers. She had tasted it once and wanted more.

But those crazy thoughts had to be kept in check. There were more important things to think about than Andrew Caldwell. Probably.

Grace watched Andrew's chest rise and fall as he dreamed. Soon he would wake, and his features would take on a different dimension. In sleep, they looked so peaceful. Tracing his brow, Grace pictured what he looked like as a boy: light brown freckles dancing on bronzed cheeks and an impetuous grin on his face.

She wished she had known him then. Her childhood had been happy, if a little lonely. She had plenty of friends but had always wished to have a brother or sister.

Well, now she had gotten her wish! Without warning, she had more family than she could even count. And the day ahead promised to be daunting. Although not one to be intimidated easily, Grace was nervous.

"Right there, lassie, how about some roasted rabbit afore we start the day's travails?"

Andrew's voice punctuated her thoughts. Instantly, Grace looked about. She had not seen him get up.

There he was, in front of her, his green eyes twinkling. She tried not to look but was drawn into his gaze. There was a luminous quality to them. Roughly, she pulled away.

"Rabbit, eh? Ye mean the one that I caught for us then?" she asked. Grace arched her eyebrow teasingly.

Andrew grinned. "The very same," he said.

"Nae such a bad idea then?" she said, smiling. "Me going hunting? Although I would have made a stew."

"Nay pot tae cook in, or herbs," said Andrew, dismissing the suggestion out of hand.

Grace sniffed but could not hide a smile. She watched as Andrew placed the rabbit on a spit and prepared a fire. As he dished up the meal, Grace felt a random glow.

She could get used to this. Just her and him, alone, with the hills and the wind.

She liked this.