Highland Champion by Hannah Howell Page A

need for a long while. His little bird had flown for now, but she would not go far. While he dressed and waited for her to bring them some food, he would carefully plan the first step of his campaign to woo and win her.
     
    Keira held the tray laden with food and drink and stared at the door of the bedchamber. She had stayed away for almost an hour, earning a few curious looks from Mary. A brisk walk in the chill morning mists had cleared her head but little else. She could still feel the warmth of his skin on her palms, still taste his kiss, and it made her ache.
    Lust, she decided, was a treacherous thing. She had been able to keep it a secret, use it only to sweeten her dreams, but that kiss had unleashed it. It wanted her to ignore every rule and all good sense. It did not care if her heart was at risk. It was a mindless hunger. Keira greatly feared it could easily make her become the greatest of fools.
    Wishing it were his shin she was abusing, Keira kicked at the door. Liam opened it, but stared at her legs. He then looked up and down the hall.
    “What are ye doing?” she asked.
    “Looking for the verra wee person who knocked at the door,” he replied.
    Biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing, Keira gave him what she hoped was a very stern frown. With a faint but impish grin on his face and a glint of laughter in his eyes, the man was almost endearingly attractive. It was probably one of but many ways he seduced so many women, she reminded herself. Her anger renewed, she nudged him out of her way and marched into the room. Even if she was free to do as she pleased, she would still fight his allure, for she had no wish to be just one in a multitude of conquests.
    Liam allowed her to hold fast to her silence for now. He had tasted her desire and seen that he could still make her laugh. One look at her face had told him that she was doing her best not to reveal her amusement over his little jest at the door. He had also seen how she had stiffened her spine and banished it.
    As they ate and then gathered up their belongings, Liam made only a few attempts to stir her simmering anger into a rage. He could see it would not take much to accomplish that, and he did not wish to have the confrontation he sought here, in a tiny room in an alehouse, within earshot of a woman he had once bedded. Especially not within earshot of a woman like Mary, for he had no doubt she would repeat whatever she heard to anyone who would listen. As they continued on to Scarglas, he would have hours of privacy to goad Keira until she was too angry to keep silent.
     
    How had she missed seeing how irritating this man could be? Keira asked herself as she and Liam made camp for the night. She felt nearly nauseous from all of the anger and hurt churning inside of her. The worst of it all was that if she repeated his words to anyone else, they would not understand what was making her feel so crazed. The words only had power because of their shared time together and the tumultuous state of her emotions. It was as if he were poking at an open wound. There were times when she felt certain Liam knew exactly what he was doing, and that only made her angrier.
    He gave her only the smallest assistance in preparing their meal. Keira knew his leg hurt him for he was slightly wan and there was a pinched look on his face. That had not stopped him from helping her before, however. It was as if all his gallantry had vanished, had been left behind in the cottage. The more she thought about him, his legions of women, and how he would not leave her in peace so that she could turn her anger and hurt into a nice, icy cold distance, the angrier she got. It was almost impossible to swallow her food.
    “A good meal, lass,” Liam said and gently tossed his empty wooden bowl at her feet. “’Twill be good to reach Scarglas, however. There is a lass there named Mag who can make the finest rabbit stew ye have e’er tasted.”
    “Do ye ken any lasses