Highland Song by Tanya Anne Crosby Read Free Book Online

bits to yourself? It’s bad manners!”
    She stopped halfway down, legs dangling, holding herself up by those arms—firm arms that, like her legs, seemed accustomed to work. He could easily reach up and smooth his hand over her little rear to see if it felt as firm and smooth as it appeared. “My bits?”
    Gavin waved her down, desperate to remove himself from temptation. “Never mind. Get down!” he demanded. “Get down!”
    She dropped to the ground in front him, facing him squarely, looking quite disgruntled with him suddenly. “If you ask me. Bad manners is a mon who canna say thank you for a simple gift!”
    The startling green of her eyes could make a man daft, Gavin reasoned. He shook his gaze free of it. “Thank you,” he said belatedly.
    But he still couldn’t believe his eyes. He peered up at the roof again, and then ventured inside the hut, inspecting the meticulous roofwork from beneath.
    She followed, watching. “Do you like it?” she asked, sounding hopeful.
    It was truly incredible, though equally impossible.
    Gavin turned to face her, scratching his head in utter confusion. “ You did this?” he asked again, stressing the word “you,” so there could be no mistake exactly what he was asking.
    She nodded, grinning.
    “ It’s incredible!” he admitted. “This would have taken me a good week to finish on my own!”
    She shrugged.
    “ But you did this all by yourself, without any help at all!”
    Her brows furrowed and she shrugged, as though she didn’t comprehend why he should be the least bit bemused by the feat and she was beginning to be annoyed by his persistent interrogation.
    In fact, much of her paint was gone, he realized—only a little blue discoloration remained about her face and arms, a bit on her long, graceful neck—though her skin was just as perfect as he recalled.
    And damned if his tunic didn’t look so much finer on her than it ever had on him. On her, it was snug, but not too snug, showing off her delicate curves. It fell just above her knees, floating above willowy limbs.
    “ I dinna believe this,” he said, turning to inspect the interior of the little hut. Overnight, it had become a home. Soft muted light poured in through the two little windows he had constructed. Now all it needed were shutters and a door... and a bed—he turned to look at her, envisioning her in the bed he planned to bring from the manor. It wasn’t quite the size of Colin’s massive bed, but big enough for two—and quite enough room for romping if it pleased them.
    She was still watching him with furrowed brows and his cheeks warmed.
    Gavin shook away the carnal images that were cavorting through his head. Damn, but this was his home—not hers. Even if she had helped him complete it. Anyway, the thoughts going through his head were the most ridiculous notions he had ever entertained, because the lass hadn’t asked to be his wife. She had simply given him the gift of a roof, impossible though it seemed.
    He looked at her suspiciously. “What do you want?”
    Again she furrowed her brows and repeated, as though she hadn’t understood, “Want?”
    “ Aye,” he said. “No one does this sort of work for naught. What payment are ye looking for, lass—because there isna much I have to give,” he hurriedly added.
    She peered down at the sack he had brought from home. It was full of a day’s supply of victuals. “Mayhap just a bite to eat,” she suggested. “If you have enough to share?”
    He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If ye’ve a bit o’ faerie magik seems to me you’d conjure up your own brekkie,” he said irascibly. His tone was rife with sarcasm. “Forsooth, wench, ye can raise a hefty roof, but ye canna fill your tiny belly?”
    Her hands went to her hips and her green eyes glinted suddenly with green fire. “I need nothing from an ungrateful knave!” she swore, and turned and walked out of the house, marching toward the forest.
    Gavin followed her out,