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  “Aye?” Sim fought for breath, relieved at seeing Niall standing there unhurt and apparently unalarmed.

  Niall opened the door wider, allowing them to see the woman standing in the middle of his bedchamber. “Put her in a bedchamber and post two guards at the door. If ye canna keep her out, perhaps ye can keep her in.”

  Sim gawked at her. “Wha—?” Then he recovered and grabbed her arm.

  “Mind her feet,” Niall advised, stepping aside so Sim could lead her from the chamber. She went easily enough, though she gave him a long, quiet look over her shoulder. The guards thrust her into the small chamber next to his and locked her in, then two of them took up position on each side of the door.

  The chamber was dark and chilly. The only light was a thin sliver of starlight coming through the narrow, cross-cut window. Grace fumbled around, searching for a candle and flint, but found nothing. If she had kept her bag with her she could have struck a match and briefly surveyed her surroundings, but she had thought it safer to leave the bag hidden.

  The room was unfurnished. There weren’t even rushes on the stone floor. Her skin roughened with chill bumps, and she hugged her arms.

  Abruptly the door was opened, banging against the wall. One of the guards thrust a burning candle into one hand and a thick plaid into the other. Without a word he closed the door again, and she heard the massive key turning in the lock.

  She dropped the plaid onto the floor and carefully shielded the flickering candle with her hand as she set it down. She looked around. The room was small, empty, but she had already discerned that.

  At least she had light, and a plaid to keep her warm. She was in Creag Dhu. Sighing, she wrapped herself in the plaid and lay down on the hard floor. Things could have been worse.

  Chapter 22

  GRACE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING TO THE SOUND OF THE KEY grating in the lock. She sat up in her plaid nest, pushing her hair out of her face. She had merely dozed for most of the night, until fatigue had finally taken its toll and toward dawn she had finally slept. Niall stood in the doorway watching her, his face expressionless, and she rose creaking to her feet. She was stiff and sore in every muscle but her legs in particular didn’t want to cooperate.

  “Come wi’ me,” he said, holding out his hand, and she limped to the door. She reflected that if he had only said those same words the night in Huwe’s dungeon, she wouldn’t now be aching all over.

  He led her to his chamber, ushering her inside with a big, warm hand on the small of her back. A fire leaped merrily in the big fireplace, dispelling the early-morning chill. A large round wooden tub had been placed before the fire, and steam rose gently from the water that filled it.

  “For you,” he said, indicating the tub. “For all ye knocked my feet from under me last night, I saw ye moved with care. Ye’ve a sore arse, I suspect.”

  She took a deep breath, staring at that wonderful hot water. “I do.”

  “Then get ye in the water, lass, afore it cools.”

  He reached out and untied the scarf from about her waist. Grace slapped his hand, backing away. “I can undress myself,” she said warily. “But I won’t do it with you in the room.”

  Those expressive black brows rose. “Ye saw me naked,” he pointed out. “And it isna as if there’s no been any intimacy between us.”

  She flushed. Having a sword swung at her head the night before had distracted her from the embarrassment she expected to feel, but now he’d been kind enough to remind her. “That was a mistake,” she said evenly. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I’m no of the same opinion,” he said softly, his gaze sliding down her body. Remembering how thin the kirtle was, she turned away from him, her blush growing hotter. He chuckled, and though she didn’t hear him approach he was suddenly right behind her, so close she could feel his heat. With one fingertip he lightly stroked the side of her neck, the tender underside of her jaw.

  “I’ll give ye privacy to bathe,” he murmured. “Then Alice will bring your porridge, and we’ll talk.”

  Grace shivered as he left the room. The first two things sounded wonderful; the last terrified her. Talk? Seduction had been in his voice, in the small touches, the way he had stood so close to her. For whatever reason he hadn’t tried to take her to bed last night—anger, surprise, suspicion—this morning he had evidently decided that reason no longer held sway.

  He wanted her. The thought made her knees watery as she quickly undressed and slid into the hot water, moaning aloud as the heat soaked into her sore muscles. Underlying all his suspicious questions was that sharp animal awareness between them, forged during months of shared dreaming. He had been fully aroused during that devastating kiss. He had the same memories she did, of those dreams. Just as she knew how it was to lie beneath him, he knew how it was to mount her. Yin and yang, she knew the inward thrust that stretched her around his erection, he knew the hot, moist inner slide and clasping. She knew the hardness of his hands; he, the softness of her breasts.

  How could she resist that? For Ford’s sake, how could she not?

  She distracted herself by vigorously washing, first her hair and then the rest of herself. Just as she finished, the door opened and a sturdy gray-haired woman came in, carrying a wooden platter on which rested a covered bowl, a spoon, and a cup.

  “Such hair!” she exclaimed, hurrying to the table and setting the platter on it. Lifting a heavy ewer, she came to the side of the tub. “My name is Alice; I manage the household for Lord Niall. Stand up, then, lass, and I’ll pour the clean water o’er ye.”

  Grace felt her face heat again, but she stood up out of the protective water. Alice poured the water over her head, rinsing away the last of the soap. She was given a sheet of linen with which to dry herself, and another, smaller one to wrap about her head.

  Alice made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Ye need meat on yer bones, lass. I’ll keep ye fed, now ye’re here. Sit ye down, now, and eat while the parritch is hot.”

  Wrapped in the linen cloth, Grace sat down on the bench and dipped the spoon into the porridge. It tasted nothing like the oatmeal she had eaten before, being rich with butter and milk, and having a salty taste. She ate all of it, and drank the water in the cup. “That was wonderful.” She sighed. After a year’s absence, her appetite seemed to be making a reappearance.

  Alice had sat quietly while Grace ate, but now she bustled into action. Soon Grace found herself dressed in a soft linen smock, looser than the cotton kirtle and with short sleeves, and then a plain brown overdress was dropped over her head.

  Clean stockings were provided, and ill-fitting leather shoes that had been made to fit either foot. Her hand-sewn moccasins were set aside to be cleaned. Then Alice set to work on Grace’s hair, sitting her down on the bench before the fire and slowly drawing a wooden comb through the wet strands. “What’s yer name, lass?” she asked comfortably.

  “Grace.” The motion of the comb in her hair was soothing. Grace’s eyelids drooped almost shut.

  “Ye’ve lovely hair, so thick and shiny and smooth. Takes a bit to dry, though, aye?”

  “I braid it while it’s still wet, sometimes,” she said in answer.

  The door opened behind her, and she recognized the booted footsteps. “I’ll finish, Alice,” Niall said, taking the comb from her hand. Alice took the wet linens and the platter with her when she left.

  “Turn,” Niall said, and Grace swiveled on the bench, turning her other side to the fire. He was as skilled as Alice with the comb, sliding his muscular forearm under her hair and lifting it, letting the heat of the fire dry it more evenly.

  Her heartbeat had speeded when he entered. Though she sat quietly while he combed her hair, the sedative effect had vanished. Instead that feeling of being hypersensitive had seized her again, tightening her skin, sending twinges through her nerve endings.

  Panic began to tighten her stomach. She had been braced for a full-scale seduction. This subtle gentling was far more dangerous to her res