Highland Storm by Tanya Anne Crosby

Keane to call her to his bed, but he did not. True to his word, he left her free to come and go as she pleased, but Lianae had no wish to venture out alone, despite the feeling that her brothers might be near.
    Mayhap tomorrow.
    Heaving a sigh, she got up off the stoop and made another sweep of the area for her stones. Come morning, when they could see a bit clearer, Keane had promised to help her find the rest, but until then… she eyed his pallet longingly.

    S he was searching in vain .
    Despite the strange glow they were surrounded by, there was not enough light to conduct a proper search, particularly now with the falling snow.
    It was only by chance that Keane had discovered the one beneath his boot, perfectly round and smooth. After seeing the one caught within the folds of her purse, he’d realized what she was searching for. Come morning, the remaining stones would all be buried at least two-feet deep and no one would find them again until spring.
    Nevertheless, he’d promised to help her, and help her he would, but in the meantime, he sorely wished she would join him beneath the blankets.
    Even from where Keane lay, he could tell that she was shivering beneath her fancy cloak, despite the added benefit of his breacan. And in spite of her threats to leave, she had stayed. By now, he was pretty sure that whatever it was that awaited her out there … she feared that far more than she did Keane or his men.
    Stubborn lass.
    He wished she would relent. Though if there was one thing he’d learned in dealing with his sisters, it was that there was only so far a man could go to assert his will. He’d crossed that line but a few times before his sisters quite rudely put him in his place.
    To that effect, Lianae reminded him most of Lael, although there was a softness about her that his sister did not possess. She was more like his brother’s wife—prickly, but gentle in her bearing. She appeared every bit a lady in her English finery, and yet she had mettle—a trait that fit quite neatly with the dún Scoti women. Years of living in the Mounth and fending for themselves had given the dún Scoti womenfolk far less complicated tastes, but they were no less capable of leading men about by their noses. Strong women were valued by his kinsmen, and in fact, in days gone by, the line of kingship had come to them, not through their fathers, but through their mothers.
    Lianae reminded him of a queen. Like a lodestone, his gaze was drawn to her.
    She was seated atop a ruined stoop, warming her hands with the heat of her breath, though her gaze remained riveted upon the campfire. Every once in awhile, she would peer over her shoulder at the dark forest behind her, but then she returned to stare longingly at the flames.
    Stubborn lass , he thought again.
    Full of pride and too headstrong for her own good, she would rather freeze to death than join his men beside the fire. Well, she wasn’t going anywhere, he realized. And he’d made it perfectly clear to his men that they should leave her be. Once the girl was cold enough, she would seek his bed, he had no doubt. She didn’t strike him as witless or foolish, and on nights like these, both man and beast knew better than to sleep alone. Even the horses were all huddled together beneath the tarp and his men were heaped beneath another, with adjoining pallets that made good use of body heat and blankets. Crowded and a jumble of limbs, Keane would warrant that not a single one of them would complain about feet wandering beneath the blankets tonight. In fact, he was quite certain the most coveted spots to place one’s toes were beneath another mon’s arse cheeks—not that he wanted anyone near his own.
    And yet that was not why he’d taken his pallet so far from the others. His reasons for that were twofold: Now that he would take his place as their leader, it was important to make certain all the men knew their places. Previously, he and Cameron had provided a strong, united