Page 17 of Highlander’s Escaped Prisoner (Highlands’ Partners in Crime #7)

N essa stifled a yawn. “That was the best meal I have had in many a day, M’Laird.” She smiled at him. “You are to be congratulated on your cook.”

Gregor all but preened, delighted by the compliment. “Thank you, Nessa,” he said, smiling. “He is French. I believe most good things come from France.”

“Except your son,” Nessa observed, her eyes twinkling.

“Of course!” Gregor laughed, then yawned. “It has been a wonderful day, but I think we should all rest now. Bryce, we will talk tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Sleep well, Nessa.”

“I will, Bryce.” She kissed him. “No more nightmares.”

“I promise,” he said fondly.

Long after they had all retired to bed, Nessa lay awake, staring into the darkness, tortured by her thoughts.

Could Laird Gregor Blair be the culprit in her uncle’s murder?

His son had gone to prison for a crime he had not committed; surely he would never have let that happen?

And to be ignorant of the circumstances of the death that had sentenced Bryce to prison?

She tossed and turned restlessly for a while, then she got out of bed, stood up, and paced to the window, resolutely trying to think of other things, but her mind kept returning to Gregor.

Almost without realizing it, she found herself going to Bryce’s room. She had only a vague notion of where it was, but somehow her instinct guided her there. She stood outside for a few moments before finding the courage to knock.

Unbeknownst to her, Bryce had also been pondering the same question. It seemed strange to him that his father had forgotten the method of Gerald’s death, particularly since his only son had been involved. Surely his father could not have been party to it? No, it was unthinkable.

Just then, he heard a soft knocking at the door. He padded over to it and opened it very slightly. “Who is it?” he asked cautiously.

Nessa had not brought a candle for fear of being noticed and was standing in complete darkness. “Nessa,” she whispered. “I cannot sleep.”

“So you thought you would come and wake me instead?” He laughed softly, then lit a candle, forgetting that he was naked. He only remembered when he heard Nessa’s gasp of shock, then he hastily turned away and dragged a sheet from his bed to cover himself.

“Nessa, I am so sorry!” he said, horrified. “I always sleep naked, and I was not expecting visitors.”

Nessa was glad of the poor light because it concealed the furious blush that covered her cheeks at her very first, if brief, sight of a naked man.

Fortunately, the light had not reached much lower than Bryce’s waist, and he had turned away very quickly, but she had been unable to quiet the gasp of shock that had escaped her.

“I am the one at fault,” she said softly. “I should not have disturbed you.” She turned away and began to walk toward the door.

Bryce, for his part, was unable to stop himself from staring at the beautiful woman before him, wearing nothing but a filmy nightgown.

In the candlelight, she looked almost luminous, her blonde hair shining like a golden halo around her face, her eyes glowing.

He could see the faint outline of her slender figure behind the snow-white linen of her nightgown and was glad he had covered himself before his body began to betray him.

“No—wait!” he begged. He rushed to fetch his robe and put it on, then stood between Nessa and the door. “I did not mean to frighten you. I was surprised, that is all. I have never had a beautiful woman visiting my chamber in the wee hours of the morning before.”

Nessa laughed. “I have never visited a handsome gentleman’s chamber before either,” she answered.

She was almost sorry as he donned his robe since she had been admiring the sheer powerful masculinity of his body and enjoying the now-familiar effect it had on her.

There was a triangle of dark hair showing just above the opening of his robe, and she desperately wanted to go and run her fingers through it.

“Would you like some wine?” Bryce asked, jerking her thoughts back to reality. “My father says that he bought a special vintage from Languedoc a few months ago, feeling that he might need it soon.” He laughed. “Somehow, I do not think my father has the Sight, but at least we can enjoy good wine!”

He turned away to fetch the decanter and glasses from a small mahogany table beside the large window, and she spent a few seconds admiring his height and the breadth of his shoulders. She had never seen any man quite like him.

When he handed her the glass, Nessa took a sip, then asked, “Do you know the difference between a good wine and a bad one?”

Bryce took a mouthful of the deep red liquid and swirled it around his mouth, then closed his eyes, savoring it. When he opened them again, he smiled at her.

“Excellent vintage,” he said appreciatively. “It has notes of honey, blackberries, and just a soupcon of roses.” He raised the glass to his eyes for a few seconds. “Beautiful color too. My father chose well.”

“I am very impressed by your knowledge,” Nessa said in admiration. “It just tastes like wine to me.”

Bryce took another sip, then burst out laughing, almost spraying her with his father’s precious Languedoc. “It tastes like wine to me too,” he chuckled. “I am afraid I know as much about wine as I do about bathwater, Nessa, but I did impress you, did I not?”

“You rogue!” she exclaimed, giggling. “I should punish you for that.”

“Oh, please do,” he said wickedly. “I should love you to punish me.” He lay back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles so that Nessa could see the whole length of his body.

“You are so tall,” she said in wonder.

“So I have been told,” he agreed. “It can be a curse, as I told you before. Many people see danger where there is none, especially men. I was always being challenged to fights as a boy, and I never wanted to fight anyone. The only person who has ever made me really angry is Logan Crosbie.”

Nessa was intrigued. “Why do you say that?” she asked, alarmed. It seemed that the more she heard about her betrothed, the less she liked him.

Bryce stood up and gave an exasperated sigh before beginning to pace about the room.

“Nessa, you will not like what I have to say,” he answered, raking his big hands through his hair in agitation.

“Ever since we were boys, he taunted me. I was tall, and he was shorter. He was wiry, and I was muscular. I could lift heavier weights than he could. I could run faster. He made everything into a competition, and then one day he made it into a battle.”

“In what way?” Nessa asked.

“I was walking in the woods outside the castle,” Bryce began.

“I was going fishing, and I had my rod and net with me. I knew as soon as I saw him that he was spoiling for a fight, so I ducked behind a tree to avoid him, but he had seen me. He called me a coward. He had called me that many times before, and I had never reacted, but this time something inside me snapped.”

He went to the window and looked out. It was a bleak night, one which matched his mood, then turned back to look at Nessa.

“To cut a long story short, Nessa, I thrashed him.” He sat down again and threw back the rest of his wine. “I was not proud of myself, and I said sorry, but he said he would get his revenge. Eventually, he succeeded, hence my stay in prison.”

“You are telling the truth as you see it,” Nessa replied. “And I am beginning to believe that it is the real truth.” She took a deep breath. “Bryce, what your father said about the way my uncle died...how could he forget an important matter like that? It put you in prison, for heaven’s sake!”

“My father is a strange man,” he answered.

“He loves me, and he loves my sister too—she is married and lives in France now—but he loves himself more. I have learned to live with that over the years, but now that I am free, I am not sure that I can do so again. His memory has always been dreadful, but I also wondered how he could forget something like that, and I must confess that it troubles me.” He looked into the fire, his eyes sad, and Nessa put her hand over his to comfort him.

Bryce clasped it, then looked down at their joined hands and raised them to kiss hers.

The softness of his lips sent a thrill through her, and she gave a little gasp of pleasure, causing him to look into her eyes.

“Nessa,” he whispered, as he lowered his head to kiss her.

As his mouth came down on hers, Nessa thought that she would die of pleasure.

She moaned and arched herself toward him, then he wound his arm around her waist to pull her even closer.

She could feel his hardness against his thigh, and her own body responded with a flood of moisture and a sweet fluttering between her legs.

Bryce brushed his hand over her breast, then, with a great effort, he tore his mouth away from hers. “Stop me,” he groaned. “God help me, Nessa, because, in a minute, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Nessa opened her mouth to answer, but just then, there was a commanding knock at the door.

“Bryce? Are you awake?” called Gregor Blair.

“I am now,” Bryce answered irritably. “Let me get dressed, Father.”

Nessa looked around for a place to hide, but Bryce drew her away to a small door beside the window and handed her a candle.

“My dressing room,” he whispered. “Stay here, and I will try to get rid of him as fast as I can.”

Bryce swiped the extra wine glass from the table and hid it behind a vase of flowers as he went to the door. His father was standing on the other side, holding a candle and looking up at him in a puzzled fashion.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” he said, frowning.

Bryce yawned and stretched. “Yes, you did,” he replied. “Myself. I was having a very vivid dream. It happens a lot.”

“A woman’s voice?” Gregor asked doubtfully. “Are you sure one of the maids is not with you?”

Bryce laughed in disbelief and stared at his father as if he had gone mad. “Now you are hearing things, Father!” he scoffed. “Please feel free to look for a woman, and if you find one, bring her to my bed.”

Gregor laughed. “You should be married,” he said regretfully. “We will have to get you away to a place where no one knows you and find you a worthy bride.”

“I would rather prove my innocence, Father” Bryce growled. He poured Gregor a glass of wine, and they sat down by the fire. “Did you try to do that while I was in jail?”

“Of course I did!” Gregor exploded. “I pleaded your case while you were inside! It was due to my intercession that you did not hang. I had to pay the justices to keep you alive.”

Bryce was astounded and immediately ashamed. “I am sorry, Father” he said sadly. “I had no idea. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Gregor looked fondly at his son and smiled, then Bryce enfolded his father in his arms. His temporary loss of memory was forgotten in a rush of gratitude, and when Gregor left a little while later, they were completely reconciled.

When Nessa came out of the dressing room, she knew something had changed, but she had not been able to hear much of the conversation. However, Bryce looked happy. Whatever had been said between father and son, it had restored good relations between them.

“Goodnight, Nessa,” he whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“Goodnight and sleep well,” she answered, smiling.

Bryce was obviously delighted about something, so why was she still uneasy?