Page 66 of The Scottish Bride

“I have it. Sir Davey’s men found it. It is broken, but I kept it. At Dalrinnie.”

“Did you! Now I have another reason to claim my castle.”

“More than me?”

He laughed. “Hush and rest.”

She sighed, quieted, then closed her eyes. Just for a moment, she told herself.

Then he began to sing, the sound of his voice low, creamy deep, yet with a graveled edge that sent delicious shivers through her.

Hey oh, hey oh,

My darling, my fair one, my soul and my delight,

My darling, my dear one, my candle at night

Hey, my treasure, oh my treasure . . .

His voice thrummed through her like honeyed fire. “You sing beautifully.”

“Did you forget? I am not just a knight.” He smiled, teasing and gentle.

“I did not forget. When I heard you sing in Lochmaben’s hall, I thought you good, but it was noisy there, and I did not hear how true your voice is. What is the song? It is lovely.”

“An old lullaby my mother used to sing. Old as the Highlands, she said it was.”

“I thought you were just a poor harper and carper, as my grandda would say.”

“It is a good guise, to be a middling harper no one notices.”

“I noticed you. Will you sing again?”

He drew breath.

Flower of hawthorn, branch of oak,

My silk and my satin, my silver and gold,

Swan on the river, wee fairy woman,

Hey, my treasure . . .

The mellow sound warmed through her like a dram ofuisge beatha.She stirred. “Do you play the harp half as well as you sing?”

“I hope better than you heard at Lochmaben, when a string broke.”

“I want to hear you play again. You do a grand thing with a simple song.”

“My lass,” he murmured, “you have no idea what grand things I can do.”

She answered with a soft giggle, too sleepy to keep her eyes open. Snuggling down, she kicked off one boot, then the other, vying for comfort. His fingers tugged to help, and then his hand rubbed her stockinged ankle again, rounded her foot, her toes. When it slid beneath the hem of her skirt, the center of her body throbbed suddenly and she caught her breath. His fingers stilled,the weight of his hand warm and sure, blending into her as if he belonged.

He sang again, low and deep, the sound thrumming through her, and she slept.

The bell wokeher, chiming deep. She opened her eyes a little, seeing it was still dark. Lying on her side, she realized that a blanket was pulled over her, and the bed felt soft, comfortable and warm. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long while.

Listening to the steady clang of the bell, she counted. Lauds—the middle of the night, not morning. No need to rise. Rolling a little, she started to feel a warm body behind her. Liam! She put out a hand, found his side, his thigh, his woolen tunic. He lay above the blanket that wrapped her. She turned her head.