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thrust a hand through his hair. Surely, he hadn’t
imbibed that much of the uisge
beatha.
    Rae reached for the covers and began
to climb abed when he spied a feminine contour outlined by the
blankets, and a woman’s bright hair flowing over the pillow like a
river of gold.
    He snatched back his hand and stared,
startled to find a woman there, one who apparently awaited his
companionship. His eyes narrowed over the sleeping figure as he
gleaned the deception that passed here.
    “Moira,” he growled.
    So this was her scheme to trap him
into marriage. Likely her father was part to the ruse, making his
way up the steps this very moment for an unannounced, late-night
“chat.” Och, but the two were of a kind, plotting to ensnare him
well.
    Not wasting a moment, Rae seized hold
of the woman and yanked her from his bed. Sly lass. She’d not play
him for a fool.
    Slipping an arm beneath her legs, he caught
her up and held her firm against his chest. She came fully awake at
that, if ever truly she slept. The lass yelped and writhed, but he
gripped her all the tighter and strode with her straight to the
door, harboring not a drop of sympathy.
    “Oot wi’ ye, hoor,” he
snarled.
    Yanking open the door, he took a single step
outside the chamber, deposited the lass on the stairwell, then fell
back a pace across the threshold and slammed the door.
    “Fashious wench,” he muttered, heading
back to the bed. It dimly registered that the lass wore a long
shapeless gown, frilled with ribbons and lace.
    “Damn odd,” he muttered again,
flipping back the blankets and climbing abed.
    Why would she wear such finery? And
since when did a body wear clothes to bed? Of course, if she
purposed only to entrap him, she might have plotted to do so
without losing her virginity. Her father’s timely appearance would
have forestalled that.
    Rae turned into the pillow and
breathed the floral scent that clung to the linen casing. ‘Twas the
lass’s fragrance. He’d breathed its sweetness in her hair as he
carried her across the room. Strange, but it wasn’t a scent he
recognized as Moira’s. And was it his imagination, or did the lass
seem to stand to a shorter height, and her hair seem brighter than
Moira’s and without its reddish cast?
    Rae rolled over and faced the wall,
dismissing the lass and the incident from his mind. He’d not
trouble himself to rise and take a closer look. No female would get
away with such underhanded trickery. If a lass warmed his bed,
‘twould be because he himself invited her there.
    With that, he burrowed into the pillow
and mattress, aware of the lingering warmth and floral scent
pervading the linens. Grumbling, he flipped the pillow over,
punched it into shape, and burrowed in once more. Surely, it had
been the very devil of a day.
    »«
    Julia tottered on the stone landing, its icy
cold stinging the soles of her bare feet. Stunned and disoriented,
she gaped through the tangled curtain of her hair.
    Julia’s eyes rounded saucer-wide as
she caught sight of a tall, barbarous-looking man, shockingly
naked, his dark sable hair flowing to his shoulders and his
piercing blue eyes hardened with anger.
    Julia stared speechless, too startled to
withdraw her gaze from the sight of such raw masculinity. The man
spoke not a word, but withdrew into the bedchamber and slammed shut
the door.
    Cheeks flaming and utterly aghast, Julia
gasped rapid breaths, her heart pounding. Her gaze remained riveted
to the door, and she questioned whether she saw what she thought
she saw.
    Her brows bunched together. Did her eyes
play her a trick? The door was arched and its planks scored and
studded with nails creating a diamond pattern.
    Julia dragged her hair from her face
and looked about her, turning in place. She found herself standing
in the confines of a stone stairwell. A torch blazed in its bracket
several steps below, its pitch popping and hissing as the flames’
shadows danced upon the wall.
    From belowstairs rose the sound