Highlander's Kiss (Clan Matheson #1)

“I’ll grab you something to sleep in first. I don’t have any women’s clothing in my wardrobe and I’d rather not wake one of the ladies in the keep to procure what you’ll need, but I could offer you a shirt, some sweatpants as well.”


The thought of wearing his clothing sent tantalizing thoughts swirling through her mind. She probably should say no and don her gown again, but any form of refusal wouldn’t leave her mouth. “I’d like that.”

“My clothing it is then.” He disappeared out the door into his bedchamber, those dark trews he wore hugging his tight backside, a backside she truly shouldn’t be admiring quite the way she was. Knocking her head had certainly scattered her usually good thoughts.

She shuffled about within the thick cloth, shoved her arms out of her soggy shift and tugged it down. The ivory linen fell in a wet plop to the floor and she stepped out of it, the towel still well secured around her.

“Here you go.” Tavish returned with a bundle of clothing in hand, a royal blue shirt and men’s trews, or what he’d called sweatpants. He scooped up her shift from the floor, wrung the water from it then laid it over top of the rail before he slipped back out the door and closed it after himself.

Against the wall, she leaned, dropped the towel completely and pulled his shirt over her head. The soft linen flapped down to her knees. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows then tugged her wet hair out from underneath the collar and used the towel to dry it.

“Are you almost done?” His voice floated to her through the thick paneling of wood.

“One moment.” She flapped out his gray sweatpants and stepped into them although they slithered right back down her legs and fell in a soft puddle. She stepped out of them and picked them up. “The sweatpants are too big.”

“Let me see.” He stepped inside and eyed them in her hands. “I might have a smaller pair, one that shrunk in the wash not long ago.”

“Nay, this shirt will do.” ’Twas decent enough with only her calves and feet showing. She handed the pants to him, lifted the shirt collar over her nose and breathed in his warm and fresh scent trapped within the cloth. “I like your shirt.”

“I like seeing it on you as well.” He foraged in one of the drawers under the counter with its wide basin, nabbed a brush and gently detangled her locks before dropping the brush back in the drawer. With one hand at her back, he guided her into his chamber where the covers had been pulled back on one side of the bed. “Hop in. I want you to get as much rest as possible for what remains of the night.”

“I’m to sleep in your bed?”

“I’ve used the settee before as a bed, and I’d rather you sleep right here where I know you’ll be comfortable and where I can keep a close eye on you. You took a nasty fall and I intend to wake you every hour or two to ensure all is well.”

“Our clan healer does that too with warriors who’ve lost awareness during a battle. She fears they may no’ wake in the morning, so to set her mind at ease, she stirs them often during the night.” She eased under the covers and jiggled about on the thick mattress. “This bed is so soft and so big. There’s no need for you to sleep on the settee if you wish, provided you can keep to the other side of this bed.”

“Are you sure?” He toed off his boots, removed his sword belt and propped his weapon against the wall.

“I dinnae mind at all.” She pulled the covers back on the other side and wriggled back to make more room for him. He slid into the bed fully clothed then reached up behind him on the wall and flicked a switch which turned the overhead light off and plunged the chamber into near darkness. Only a shimmer of the moon’s glow trickled in through a gap in his navy curtains. The gentle moonbeams played over his high cheeks and firm jaw. “I hope Cherub takes her time in returning. I would dearly love to see more of your keep and these fascinating things of your time.”

On his side, he faced her. “When Cherub returns, I don’t intend to let you go, to just simply disappear back through time and never see you again.” His aura flared and the gentle purr emanating from him rose to a low growl.

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed his arm to soothe him and the growl tapered away. “I didnae mean to say something that would upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Aye, you were. Your aura told me so.” One’s aura never lied, other than for Colin and Jeremiah MacKenzie’s auras. Theirs lied with a lethalness that could kill.

“I just don’t care for the thought of you leaving. That’s all.”

“I can ask Cherub if she will bring me back to visit. Since Arabel will be living here and our parents—” Her gaze misted and she blinked the hot rush of tears away. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me what you were just thinking that upset you.”

“My thoughts have dwelled on my parents a great deal this day. They passed away and now my sister is all I have.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He curled his hand over her hip, his fingers warm and soothing. He tugged her closer, his gaze intent. “Do you want to talk about them?”

“I miss them, terribly.”