Highland Conqueror by Hannah Howell Read Free Book Online

to be gloriously proven wrong. It was why he was cautious now, would prefer not to be feeling all he was feeling for the delicate Englishwoman.
    “And what makes ye think this lady is a good choice?” he asked, inwardly cursing the curiosity that prompted the question.
    “She watches you.”
    “Probably wants to be sure I dinnae stumble and chance falling on her for fear I would flatten her into the ground.”
    “Idiot. She watches you. She shows no interest in any of the rest of us save as companions in this wee crusade.”
    “Nay, not e’en ye,” Sigimor murmured, recalling his surprise over that.
    “Nay, not e’en me. She isnae intimidated by your size and your manner. If the way she was glaring at ye earlier today is aught to go by, she also has the spirit to stand up to ye. What did ye say to her, by the bye?”
    Still caught up in the pleasant thought that Jolene watched him, Sigimor made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “She was telling me what qualities an Englishmon likes in his women and I told her it sounded as if the fools were thinking to breed a hound, nay a woman.”
    “Nay wonder she looked ready and eager to gut ye. I was hoping ye kenned how to flatter the lasses, but I begin to fear ye dinnae.”
    “I did tell her that I suspected most Englishwomen smelled a wee bit better than a hound.”
    “Tis a wonder she didnae swoon with delight,” muttered Liam and then he shook his head. “Ye do it apurpose, dinnae ye? Ye just have to keep poking at a person, waiting to see what will happen.”
    “Tis part of my charm.” Sigimor paused at the edge of the camp and his gaze immediately settled upon the slim form of a sleeping Lady Jolene. “Let it rest, Liam.There may be something there between us, some mutual attraction, but I am nay sure it should or could go any further than looking and thinking. She is an English lady and I am a Scottish laird. A greedy mon wants her and the lad dead. That wee lad is an English lord and she is verra nearly his mother, bound to him by blood and love. Aye, and I still believe she hasnae told us everything, that she holds fast to a wee secret or two. Tisnae a simple matter in any way. Twill go as it will go. One can but wait and see.” He started to collect his bedding, fully intending to spread it out at Jolene’s side.
    “Fine, wait and see. Just be sure ye keep both eyes wide open. Aye, and your mind and heart.”
    If the last few days were any example, Sigimor mused, he could do nothing else. His mind and heart would not let him.
     
    Sigimor woke with a curse as a small, hard fist slammed into the side of his head. As he hastened to fend off further blows, he realized the woman at his side had not suddenly turned into a virago intent upon murdering him, but was caught fast in a nightmare. Reynard began to cry and Nanty quickly appeared. Sigimor told the man to take the child to his bed, then set his mind to pulling Jolene free of her nightmare before she did him a real injury.
    It took him longer than he felt it ought to get her thrashing body pinned firmly beneath him, but he was trying hard not to bruise her. He was a little surprised at the virulence and the variety of the curses she spat out while she fought against the enemy haunting her dreams. The blind panic that briefly twisted her delicate features when she finally opened her eyes struck him to the heart. In a soft, calming voice he had perfected over the years of raising his siblings and many of his cousins, he repeatedly told her who he was and where she was.
    The moment she calmed, he became all too aware of the intimacy of their position with her slender legs pinned beneath his and their groins pressed close together. His body’s reaction to that suggestive delight was immediate and fierce. Sigimor was not surprised to see her eyes slowly widen and the hint of a blush shadowing her cheeks. Even as a voice in his head told him not to do it, he brushed his mouth over hers, finding her lips