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  The earl smiled, not at all offended by Lachlan’s obvious distrust, especially since it was warranted. “Your cooperation.”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. Argyll wanted to bring him in line with the king. He asked much, after what the king had done by imprisoning his brother. But Lachlan was pragmatic enough to realize that he was in better standing with Argyll than without. He would never trust King James again, but perhaps he shouldn’t have in the first place.

  “My dispute was never with the king, only with Hector. It is the king who has broken faith with me. I will need your support not only for my brother, but also in my dispute with Hector over the return of my castle. If the king intercedes on my behalf, I will have no cause to disagree with him.”

  Argyll’s brows shot up. “You bargain with your brother’s life at stake?”

  “As much as you do with your wee cousin racing to the altar with Lord Murray.” Lachlan knew how to bluff. He would have married anyone to release his brother. But he would not bargain from a position of weakness.

  The earl studied him thoughtfully. Lachlan held himself perfectly still, to all appearances calm despite the unrest churning inside him.

  Finally, Argyll nodded. “Done. But remember, don’t think about forcing the lass. As she angers me, Flora is a bewitching little minx, and I would not see her harmed. You’ll not get my support if you do.”

  “And the release of my brother?”

  “Once I am assured of Flora’s agreement, on your wedding day I will see to his release.”

  And thus the devil’s bargain had been struck.

  Marrying Argyll’s cousin had seemed a small price to pay for the release of his brother and the return of his castle. He hadn’t realized the heavy toll it would exact.

  Unconsciously, he pulled her closer. A soft, contented sound escaped from between her lips. She opened her eyes. He stilled, heart pounding in his chest, looking into those fathomless blue depths. She was only half-conscious, but the look in her eyes was so soft and yielding—without pretense of wariness—that it cut him to the quick. It gave him a glimpse of a future that he’d never dreamed of. Of a connection so powerful and strong, it didn’t seem possible.

  But it was nothing compared with the effect of the wide smile that turned her lips when she looked at him. His chest squeezed painfully with longing. Longing for something that wasn’t his. But what would it be like to hold her in his arms like this for real? To make love to her and have her smile at him with such boundless happiness?

  It would be perfect.

  He watched confusion traverse her face.

  “I must be dreaming,” she murmured, her voice cracking from the rawness of her throat. She closed her eyes, giving way to unconsciousness once again, and snuggled against him. Her fingers gripped him tightly, and her soft cheek rested over his aching heart.

  He couldn’t move. Every inch of his body was taut with desire. Desire for something that he’d never wanted before, but that now hovered just out of his reach.

  While she was deathly cold, it hadn’t been hard to dissociate himself from the sensation of her naked body molded to his. But as she warmed, so had he. All that soft, pliant skin plastered against his became impossible to ignore. He slid his hand down her spine from her nape to the small of her back, savoring the velvet under his fingertips, and the soft curve of her bottom. Wanting desperately to bring her against him. To slide deep inside her with long, slow strokes and make her his.

  All vestiges of her icy swim were gone. Unconsciously, she rubbed against him, her nipples hardening. Raking his chest and making him instantly hard.

  He caressed her again, cupping her bottom, his entire body drumming with temptation.

  God, he couldn’t do this. He wanted to touch her all over. Run his hands over every inch of her nakedness and kiss her until she cried out.

  But honor held him back. He wouldn’t take advantage of her like this. Not when she was weak. Her body might want him, but she didn’t.

  Flora had run from him because she was scared. Scared by what had nearly happened in the laird’s solar. But their bodies were made to come together. Just holding her against him, he could feel it. He knew how good it would be.

  With a soft groan, he tore himself from her seductive grasp. Not wanting to be in bed with her when she woke, knowing that his presence would only upset her.

  He’d done what he needed to do; the danger had passed. She no longer needed him.

  He pulled on a clean shirt, wrapped a fresh plaid around himself, and secured it with his chieftain’s badge. Turning back to the bed one more time he took in every detail, his heart swelling hard in his chest. Unable to stop himself, he bent down and brushed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Rest, my sweet,” he whispered.

  The pale light of dawn stirred her awake. A soft warmth surrounded her. Flora opened her eyes, feeling as if she’d been wrapped in a blanket of sunshine. She felt safe. Protected. Burrowing her face into the pillow beside her, she savored the warm scent of myrtle…and something else oddly familiar.

  Indeed, she felt the strangest sensation of being somewhere that was both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. Stretching her arms above her head, she noticed the twinge of aching muscles in her back and arms. She raised her head to look around, but it was so heavy. Everything was a little foggy, and it took her a moment to realize that she was not in her chamber.

  The bed was bigger, for one. A large chair was positioned before the fireplace. She looked around, noticing the rough, stark furnishings, similar to those in her room. Unlike her room, however, there was an aumbry for storing clothing, in addition to a large, heavily carved wooden chest before the bed. The window was much narrower than hers, suggesting that she was perhaps on a lower floor of the keep.

  Why wasn’t she in her room, and why was she so thirsty? Her lips were cracked, her mouth dry. She ran her hand along her bare arm, her skin felt so gritty…

  All of a sudden, she realized three things at once. She hadn’t drowned, she was in his bed, and she was completely naked. Each was shocking enough, but together they were enough to toss her into a panic.

  The sound of the door creaking open didn’t help matters. When she saw who it was, the riot of emotions swirling inside her grew much worse.

  “I see you’re awake,” the woman said. “I brought you some broth.”

  Flora had the most appalling urge to hide under the covers. Instead, she forced herself to respond. But what did one say to the leman of the man’s bed you’d just woken up in? “Thank you,” was all she could think of.

  Seeing the question in Flora’s eyes, the woman explained, “The laird asked that I look in on you.”

  “You’re a healer?”

  She shrugged. “I have some skill with herbs.”

  Among other things, she thought uncharitably.

  Bending over Flora, she started her examination. Putting a gentle hand on Flora’s forehead, feeling the pulse at her neck. All of which seemed very strange. Eventually, curiosity got the better of her. “What is your name?” the healer asked.

  The woman gave her a long look. “You know who I am?”

  Flora nodded.

  “Seonaid,” she answered.

  She started to lift the plaids covering her, but Flora held them tightly, her cheeks on fire. “I’m fine.”

  The woman lifted a perfectly arched brow. “Your modesty is wasted on me. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. It is your decision, but you nearly drowned, and then nearly froze to death.”

  Flora’s blush intensified. “You don’t understand.” Her voice lowered. “I don’t have any clothes on.”

  Seonaid shook her head as if Flora were addled. “You were freezing to death.” At Flora’s obviously perplexed expression, she continued, “You needed the heat of another against you to warm you quickly. ’Twas the only way.”

  Flora’s brows gathered together across her nose. “I don’t understand….” Her voice fell off,