In Bed with the Highlander

He looked puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

Hah! Just a couple more questions and she’d go back to sleep. “Mar’s uprising. His march on Inverness.”

“Dear God!” Gavin drew his sword in the blink of an eye. He held the point to her throat, his face a fearful scowl and murder in eyes that had gone from warm blue to chips of ice. “What are you? An English spy? Answer me. Are there soldiers in the castle?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her knees felt weak. Did you get killed in dreams? You always woke up before it actually happened, right? She swallowed. “No soldiers.” She winced. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Then how do you know about what the clans are planning?” The sword tip moved back a fraction. It shook very slightly, she noticed. Must be heavy.

“I overheard a conversation.” Well, she could hardly say she’d read about it, now could she?

The sword tip dropped and he winced and... Yuck, he had blood on his hand. And a rent in his coat. “Are you injured?”

“Naught but a scratch. Do not worry yourself.” He opened the lid of a chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out some folds of white muslin. Bandages. He wound one around his meaty biceps and tied a rough sort of knot with one hand and his teeth.

“Good Lord. Do you men always have to act so macho?” She made a grab for his arm.

He backed up.

Eyes narrowed, she pointed a finger at his chest. “Let me take a look.”

A bemused smile lit his handsome rugged face. “I have not been yelled at like that since my mother passed on.”

Good God. It was like being caught in a sunbeam on top of a hill being flashed that smile. The whole room lit up. Her limbs turned to jelly left outside in midsummer. She took a deep breath. “I’m not your flippin’ mother. Now, take off the sword belt and sit.”

He shook his head. “A virago. Just my luck.” Still, he unbuckled his belt and laid it and the sword carefully on the bed. Oh, God. Now that the weapon wasn’t pointed in her direction, she could see the blade looked wickedly sharp and real and surely that was blood on it. Don’t think about it. It was dream blood. She untied the rough-and-ready bandage and helped him peel the coat off one very brawny shoulder and then down a heavily muscled arm. A beautifully carved male arm.