Amanda Forester by The Highland Bride's Choice Page B

widening. “Ye want me to do what?”
    “Nothing! Nay, I was in jest. A verra bad jest. Looks like we’re in for some more rain.” He had the sudden compulsion to knock his head against the stone battlements.
    She followed his line of view to dark storm clouds on the horizon. “Aye, we are in for some rough weather ahead.”
    ***
    Thunder cracked above them and Elyne flinched unconsciously. She could accept rain as a necessary fact of life, but why the clouds had to argue so loudly, she could not fathom. She took another bite of the supper she had prepared, a cluster of berries and nuts served on a large, bright-green leaf of kale.
    It was a good dinner for having found it in abandoned gardens. Tavish had worked all day until the sentries were posted and the rain began. Now the rain had turned to sheets, and the drips in the tower had turned into small streams. They had scrounged up buckets, pots, and anything else they could find to hold the water. The room was now filled with the musical accompaniment of dripping water falling into broken ceramic pots.
    Tavish ate heartily then rested before the fire with droopy eyebrows.
    “Did ye sleep at all last night?” asked Elyne.
    He shook his head. “Nay, too much to do. Canna sleep when there’s work to be done.” He stifled a yawn.
    “Come along then, ye need some sleep before ye fall over. I can take guard duty.”
    “Nay, the weather’s not fit for anyone. If ye go out, ye risk death by drowning. I doubt we shall have any visitors tonight.”
    “So we should both get some sleep.” Elyne’s pulse jumped up a notch.
    “Sleep would be good,” admitted Tavish.
    Elyne helped him up and toward the large bed. He shook his head. “Nay, I’ll sleep on the bench. Ye need sleep too.”
    Elyne ignored him and continued to lead him to the bed.
    “I can sleep on a bench. I can sleep almost anywhere.” His eyes were closed when he said it, and it took only the gentlest nudge to get him to sit on the bed. With some assistance, he removed his boots, and another nudge had him flat on his back. He breathed slow and rhythmic, sound asleep.
    Elyne wrapped her cloak around her and walked back to the bench. He had stayed up all night working to protect her; the least she could do was sleep on the bench. She sat down. Thump . She lay on the bench and it shifted from one leg to another. Thump . She turned to her side. Thump . The movement jarred her and she flailed trying not to fall off the bench. Thump . Thump . Thump .
    “Ouch!” She landed on her backside on the floor. This was not going to be easy. Unless she could manage to balance on two legs of the bench, it was going to be a very long night. Her gaze shifted to Tavish Grant sleeping happily on the bed. He was asleep. The bed was big. He would never know if…
    Elyne walked over to the other side of the bed and laid down far from him—or at least she tried. With him on the bed, the mattress had developed a definite slant and she rolled right into him. She sighed and gave up. Tonight, there was no escaping his company. She curled up next to him, her back to his warm side. Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the tower. She jumped, wondering for a moment if the tower itself had been struck.
    “Naught to worrit yerself,” mumbled Tavish, and he rolled toward her, putting his arm around her and holding her close. His slow breathing of sleep resumed.
    She sank back into his warmth. She had never been this close to a man, and despite the novelty of the experience, it felt right. This was where she belonged. She was home.
    And yet, this could never be where she belonged. She was surrounded by enemies, lying in bed with a man who was not to be her husband.
    She snuggled closer to him. Despite everything, she knew she was safe.

Eight
    Elyne awoke warm and comfortable. She relaxed and breathed deep. She never wanted to move.
    “Good morn to ye,” rumbled her pillow.
    Elyne’s head shot up, off of Tavish’s chest. “Oh!” She