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Highlander’s other
shoulder, she caught sight of a dry dress he must have brought down
from the loft where Garth and Charlotte stored things. She’d slept
there as a child.
    Ever so slowly, she stretched her arm over his chest
and tried to get hold of the dress. She couldn’t reach it. Waiting
another moment and making sure his breathing was even, she lifted
her body slightly and tried again to reach over his wide chest for
the clothing.
    Getting hold of it this time, Tess gathered the
woolen dress in her fist and slowly started to disentangle herself
from him.
    He released her, rolling slightly toward her. She
sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward when he didn’t wake up.
Pressing back against the stone wall, she sat up and—as the blanket
fell away—wrestled the dress hurriedly over her head.
    By the time Tess knelt up breathless on the bedding
with the dress nearly covering her, she realized it was a miracle
that the Highlander was continuing to sleep on like the dead.
     
    After all the trouble she’d given him the day
before, he certainly deserved some entertainment. Watching
her struggle to put on the dress was all that and more, Colin
thought. Her body was perfect, her skin smooth as polished
ivory.
    He made another mumbling sound, as if he were
asleep, and turned onto his side.
    Colin had been trying to imagine the different
possibilities of how someone like her might have arrived on this
island. From all accounts he could recall, the couple who lived
here before were far too old to produce someone as young as this.
So she was either brought here and abandoned, or she too had washed
ashore. But when? And who was she? And who were her people?
    He contemplated letting her know that he was awake,
but the sight that moved before his half-closed eyes stopped him.
She approached the hearth and quietly placed small pieces of
driftwood on the fire.
    Colin held his breath as she stood stretching the
muscles in her back. Her long hair, an unbound mass of waves and
ringlets, hung nearly to her waist. Flecks of gold reflected in her
auburn locks from the firelight crackling to life beside her. She
cast a hesitant glance in his direction, and he closed his eyes a
little more.
    A moment later, he opened them again and found her
washing her face with water in a basin. From a leather pouch, she
repeatedly filled a cup—a large shell, actually—and drank the water
down. As she did, Colin’s eyes were riveted to the smooth and
beautifully shaped column of her neck.
    Something about him drew her attention, for
she lowered the cup and caught him watching her. Her entire body
became tense.
    “Good morning. Or is it the night?”
    “Morning…nay, ’tis night falling.” She
quickly corrected herself while cautiously laying the cup
aside.
    He propped himself casually on one elbow,
hopeful that she wouldn’t feel threatened. “Did you sleep
well?”
    She gave a curt nod and glanced nervously
toward the door.
    “You were so cold, and I was truly concerned
that you would have caught a chill or fever after spending so many
hours outside.” He sat up on the bedding. She took a nervous step
toward the door.
    “Please don’t go.”
    Her wary look shifted to him. From the
narrow windows, he could see that night had already spread its
thick blanket across the island. The howl of the wind through the
openings was indication enough that the brutal weather was
continuing.
    “I shall go, if you like,” he said quietly.
He straightened the blankets around him and started pulling on the
boots that he’d taken off earlier in the day. They were still wet.
“This is your house. You need not spend another night out in this
storm.”
    She glanced at him, then at the door, and
without another word she started for the door.
    Colin was on his feet and had put himself in
her path the next instant. “You do know that there is a storm still
battering this island,” he asked shortly.
    She gave a small nod and tried to go around
him. He