The Highlander's Thief

Chapter Twenty-one

She gave her head a little shake as though unable to believe her eyes.

"I promise I won't let anything happen to ye, lass," McWilliam said. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, needing to be as close to her as possible. When he'd found Rodd's body with the note pinned to his front, he'd been unable to think of anything but Rosa. He'd rushed back here as fast as possible, leaving his search party miles behind. Thank God nothing had happened to her while he'd been away. He'd never have forgiven himself.

He'd never have recovered. She was his everything.

He tried to pull her closer but she frowned, her eyes still locked on the note.

"What about Amelia?" she asked. "You can't promise nothing will happen to her."

To hell with her cousin. He only cared about keeping Rosa safe.

"We'll find her," he said instead. "I have men in London and Manchester. She can't have disappeared completely."

"We don't have time," she moaned. "There's only four days left until the trial. I can't leave it to chance."

"Nay." He shook his head. He knew what she was about to say and there was no way he was letting her leave.

"I have to go."

"Nay." This time she let him pull her closer. He wrapped both arms around her shoulders, hunching over to bury his face in the hollow where shoulder met throat, breathing in her scent. He'd never have guessed any woman could make him feel like this. And an English women to boot.

"Never," he reaffirmed.

"I can't let you to stop me," she said, her words muffled by his shirt. "I can't let you distract me from Amelia."

"Aye, Love, you can."

He straightened long enough to tilt her head up towards his, capturing her lips with his own. The taste of her was intoxicating. He wanted to bathe in it until her taste and her smell was infused into his very essence. And when anyone looked at him he wanted them to see her mark upon his skin.

"McWilliam," someone snapped.

Rosa jumped, trying unsuccessfully to scuttle back, but McWilliam keep a firm hold of her as he looked over her head towards this uncle.

"Cameron." He released, too late, he'd practically growled in warning at the older man.

"What's going on here?" His uncle didn't back up. In fact, McWilliam could almost feel displeasure radiating from him as heat radiated from the sun.

McWilliam cocked an eyebrow. "Can't you guess? Did you need me to reenact the scene for you?"

He felt Rosa shake her head and glanced down at her. She was glaring daggers at Cameron, her eyes narrowed in defiance. She was a game wee thing. And for some reason she'd taken a real dislike to his uncle.

"Can I have a word?" Cameron asked, completely ignoring Rosa.

"I don't—" he began, fully intending to tell his uncle no, but Rosa interrupted.

"You two talk. I'll sit in with Miss Rhona."

"Nay." Cameron stepped in front of his niece's bedchamber door, his walking stick between them like a blockade. "She's sleeping."

"No, she isn't," Rosa said tightly. "I heard you talking with her just a moment ago."

It was Cameron's turn to glower at Rosa, but she paid him no heed, ducking into Rhona's room before McWilliam could ask what was going on.