The Highlander's Sin by Eliza Knight Page B

through.” He winked. Slowly.
    Just that little blip of eyelid movement sent a tremor of excitement through her, followed whiplash fast by a sweeping anger. “Ye’re a cad!”
    “Ah, ah, ah!” he warned, advancing toward her with two predatory steps. “Do ye recall what I said would happen if ye called me such things?”
    Heather growled out her frustration and leapt backward, careful not to fall on any of the mess that surrounded them. “I dinna like ye very much, Priest.”
    He only chuckled, but he did stop coming toward her. “Well, princess, that makes two of us.”
    Pain squeezed inside her chest. Why did she care what he thought , and why did it hurt to hear he didn’t like her? Heather gritted her teeth. It shouldn’t matter. They seemed to be at a standoff, both of them glaring each other down as if in the next second or two they might attack each other.
    “Let us pack up then, so y e can be sure to quickly dispose of me. I’ve a need to get away from ye just as much as ye appear to need to get away from me.” She snatched her makeshift pillow and unraveled it, tugging it over her head and instantly feeling the temperature rise in the room. Taking his advice about reducing her layers would have meant defeat. “Besides, are ye nay just chomping to get your hands on a bit more silver?”
    Duncan picked up his shirt from w here it lay crumpled near his feet. “’Tis not the silver I’m looking forward to. Truth of the matter is, I have plenty to get by on. But the look on your brother’s face when he realizes I’ve got ye, now that will be priceless.”
    “But ye will not have me. The person who hired ye will,” she pointed out.
    He smiled cruelly , sending a shiver of dread racing along her limbs. “Trust me, ye’ll wish it was me that had taken ye.”
    “Trust me, that will be the last thought that crosses my mind.”
    Duncan growled and yanked on his shirt, stuffing it roughly into his plaid and then slamming his arms into his billowing black robes. Hardly the vision one had of a priest , and she was sad to see all his skin once more covered. She’d rather liked the view.
    Heather chewed her lip as she bent to roll up their bedding. She tried to ignore her hurt feelings, but they just kept nagging at her. ’Twas ridiculous that she’d let a man like Duncan get to her , that every harsh word stung and every kind word made her heart flutter.
    She hated him at the same time that she did not. A confusing mix of emotions swirled inside her mind with him in the dead center of it. How was she supposed to cope with that? Was coping possible?
    Having the bedding rolled, she turned to find Duncan readying his horse for departure. With nimble steps, mostly in hopes of avoiding another rat, but also because her brothers had taught her not to rush a bear, she approached and handed him the blankets.
    “Thank ye,” he grumbled.
    Heather was a little taken aback that he’d thanked her. She’d half expected him to grab the cloth from her hands and shove it onto the horse before tossing her up on the animal’s back. Beneath his hard exterior, there was definitely a man with heart. If they hadn’t been in the situation they found themselves in, she might have thought she was the woman to help him expose that beating organ.
    As it was, she was most definitely, absolutely, positively not the woman for him, nor he the man for her.
    “Ye’re welcome,” Heather said begrudgingly, hating that her aunt had drilled manners into her and that she felt the need to impart them on this devil.
    How funny that such a mundane exchange of words meant so much more. They were both giving in , both being cordial when in their situation niceties were the last thing she’d expect.
    Niceties would be coming to an end soon, though, for Heather was certain of one thing—she’d not be present for the exchange of her person to whatever vile villain had paid for her. Though she was loath to admit it, there were a multitude of