Highland Storm by Tanya Anne Crosby Page B

of the woman slumbering along beside him…
    Lianae.
    It was a good name, lovely and strong, much like her.
    He might never have guessed for an instant that beneath her fearless facade she’d hid the evidence of abuse.
    What kind of man harmed a woman?
    If Keane had the chance to face the monster, he would give him cause to rue his actions. It was impossible to know whether he’d taken her against her will, but marks like those meant only one thing… at the very least the bastard had tried.
    For his part, Keane intended to reward the girl’s trust in him by proving that not all men were rutting beasts…
    At the least he was trying.
    His lust was difficult to deny, when his cock stood fully erect and throbbing beneath the covers. Despite his best intentions, his morning erection was not a function of his sex.
    The scent of Lianae’s hair was like a philter—a love potion that spoke to his body in a language that clearly it understood. It had been a long time since he’d craved so desperately to put his old chap to better use…
    Oblivious to his struggle for control, Lianae squirmed beneath the covers, moving a little closer to the heat of his body. Keane resisted the urge to reach out and draw her close. She had no inkling what she was doing, he realized, and waking her was the last thing he wished to do. But if she should happen any closer, she would quickly discover that not all his swords were safely sheathed…
    He inched backward yet again—for the half dozenth time—reconsidering the wisdom in rising sooner rather than later, if for no other reason than to speak privately with Cameron.
    As yet, only Cameron was up and tending the fire—or rather, more accurately, preparing it for their departure. He was pushing snow up and over the dying embers, his shoulders peppered with flakes he didn’t bother to shake off. He worked quietly, brooding all the while.
    They had yet to speak about what had happened, but Keane wasn’t all that concerned. They had been friends too long and if Cameron ever meant to win Cailin’s hand, he would never dare challenge Keane—particularly since everything Cameron ever wanted, he wanted solely for one reason: to win Cailin’s favor. And he could have her still, if only the man would realize that he already had all he needed to win her favor. His sister didn’t care about riches. Nor did she care whether a man was titled. She, like all of his sisters, were simpler in their requirements. They wanted strong, loyal men who would care for them, and not much else. Until Cameron realized as much, Cailin would never have him—never mind Aidan. It was never his laird brother who would make this decision for Cailin. But this was not something Keane could easily explain to a man who was unaccustomed to putting women before him, particularly so long as Cailin remained undecided, because, to a man, Aidan’s reluctance to accept Cameron was the one thing that seemed to be saving his pride. Cameron was convinced that was the only reason Cailin had not yet fallen into his arms. But he was wrong. No one told his sisters what to do—whom to marry—and if that were so, Lael and Cat would never have wed outside the vale.
    Nay, Cameron still had much to learn.
    In truth, Keane was far more reluctant to buck Aidan’s authority than any of his sisters had ever been, for he had once been his brother’s heir.
    Not anymore.
    Now, he had… what ? Not even a sense of purpose, if the truth be known. Aside from listening to Cameron’s aspirations and visions of grandeur—the home he’d like to build for Cailin, the children they might raise together—he was jaded and bored with life. Back in the vale, he’d withered in the role he’d been provided, and even this mission had proven mind-numbing, for despite David’s fears—that with Henry of England preoccupied in France, the sons of Óengus were scheming to restore the Mormaerdom—all was quiet in the northern territories.
    Trying not to