Outside the little room at the Shepherd’s Rest, a crescent moon shone through racing clouds, and the rumble of thunder grew distant. Chill winds still buffeted the alehouse, bringing with them sheets of drifting rain and the muffled sounds of chaos from the ale yard as men struggled with the felled ale-stake.

Shadows filled much of the room save the flickering light cast by the red-glowing brazier and the rack of candles on the bedside table.

Madeline noticed none of that, aware only of the hard and fast pounding of her heart.

It hammered so loudly she could hardly believe Iain could not hear its racing beat. It roared in her own ears with such ferocity, she could hear nothing else.

Except, that wasn’t true.

She did hear one other thing…

The echo of the words that set it to galloping in the first place. Truths that gave her so much hope.

Her shadow man was widowed, not married.

His braw heart given and claimed, but by a dead woman.

Closing her eyes, she breathed a silent prayer of thanks. In her darkest hour, the fates had smiled on her after all, blessing her with a shining ray of hope.

No flesh-and-blood woman held Iain’s affections.

Immense relief swept her. Much as she didn’t want to share even a wee corner of her shadow man’s heart – his love if she could win it – sharing him with the memory of a late wife was a weight she’d be glad to shoulder.

She sighed, his golden warmth surging through her, sweet and dear. Iain MacLean, her braw and bonnie Master of the Highlands was free.

And now…

So was she.

Feeling almost giddy, she stretched atop the curtained bed, naked but for her ruined undershift and the length of drying linen she’d wrapped around her damp hair. She watched him, wondered if her heart showed in her eyes.

He stood before the table, fussing with his bowl of sphagnum tincture. “Do you trust me, lass?” He turned to face her, a deeper question in his dark eyes.

Madeline blinked. “I would not lie here thus, nigh unclothed, if I did not.”

“I am glad you are at ease.” Stepping closer, he skimmed the backs of his fingers across the bared skin of her shoulders, the light caress sending a rush of shivers down her back. Delicious sensations that made her keenly aware of the transparency and thinness of her undergown.

She truly was as good as unclothed.

“‘Tis of nakedness I would speak,” he said, looking at her.

Madeline started, for a moment, wondering if he were blessed with a similar gift as her own.

But then he pulled back his plaid to reveal his padded leather hauberk and the two belts slung low about his hips, his waist and sword belts. His money purse hung from the first, his sheathed sword from the second.

“Even Masters of the Highlands do no’ sleep clothed, sweetness.” He gave her one of his crooked smiles. “Can you trust me enough to allow me to sleep as I am wont to do?”

Madeline blinked. “Unclothed?”

“Only by your leave.”

“You saved my life, sir.” She held his gaze. “I would not wish you to be less than comfortable this night, or any other.”

He smiled. “You are gracious, and generous.”

Madeline almost choked.

Wicked is what she was. She shifted on the bed, aware of tingling fire rippling across her womanly bits. She couldn’t deny it. She’d love for him to sleep full bared.

After all, she’d already seen him thus many times over in her dreams. Having him unclothed here before her and not distanced by a dream, would be a treat beyond measure.

“So you dinnae mind?”

“Nae.”

“In my duties as laird’s daughter at Abercairn, I have seen the bed-nakedness of many men, and shall not mind yours,” she said, well aware his nude body would prove vastly different than any other man’s she’d seen.

Young lads and squires mostly, cavorting in the lochans near Abercairn on warm summer days. As well, older knightly guests, come to visit her father. Men she’d been expected to give the courtesy of assisting their nightly ablutions. These men, she’d undressed and bathed, seeing to their every comfort, save the one they could enjoy with an Abercairn serving lass, if desired.

“Well, lass?” He lifted a brow. “I dinnae wish to shock you.”

“I have answered you.” She met his gaze, the tingles between her legs now a persistent throbbing. “I do not mind nakedness. You may sleep as you wish.”

“Good, then.” He reached for the clasp of his sword belt, unlatched it. “Another question…”

“Aye?”

He glanced at the bowl of steaming sphagnum tincture. “And if I tend your aches thus?”

“Naked?”

He nodded. “Entirely so, aye.”

“I will welcome your care be you fully garbed or otherwise,” Madeline said, the delicious heat pooling low by thighs making any other response impossible. “I am not shy and” – she couldn’t believe her daring – “it seems only fair, near undressed as I am.”

“Indeed.” His smile flashed. “I only wished to be sure.”

“You can be,” she returned, stirred in most unladylike ways.

“Then so be it.” He removed his second belt, the intense way he watched her as he did so exciting her even more.

He tore off his plaid with equal speed, his gaze locked on hers as he then unlaced his hauberk and drew the leather garment over his head. Dropping it, he quickly removed his shirt and boots.

“You have my word I shall no’ touch you unseemly,” he assured her. “‘Tis only that I have slept so since I was a wee laddie. I’d no’ find a decent night’s rest even tunic-clad.”

“I understand.” Madeline hoped he wouldn’t notice the hitch in her voice, the excitement prickling inside her. “Most men at Abercairn sleep thus. I have seen them about nigh every night.”

“Is that so?” His lips twitched, hinting that he’d caught the hitch.

Hopefully, he’d missed the excitement.

“I wouldnae offend you, lass.” He narrowed his eyes, studying her. “You are certain?”

“I am.” Madeline nodded, her pulse quickening.

She could already see the whole of him in bold detail. The candlelight left nary a secret.

He was a large, well-made man.

She lifted her gaze, met his. “I would that you are comfortable.”

He stretched, rolled his shoulders. “I am grateful.”

Seemingly as easy in his nakedness as he was clothed, he turned back to the sphagnum preparation. He stood at the table, the whole of his masculine glory bared to her gaze and sending shiver upon shiver tumbling through her.

The room’s soft light fell across his wide-set shoulders and muscled back, highlighting the hard planes and contours of his well-trained body. She also noted the silvery tracks of several long-healed battle scars.

Badges of honor.

Madeline’s already-racing heart skittered. He was indeed a brave man. The kind another warrior would welcome at his side in a fight. The sort a woman could rely on to keep her and their children safe, their home secure. His scar ridges, valiant reminders of the daring he’d displayed upon rescuing her at St. Thenew’s Well.

And now…

Much as she supposed she shouldn’t peer at his manly bits, she found herself doing so. He was simply magnificent and looking away proved impossible.

Long and thick, his maleness hung heavily between his thighs and the large ballocks dangling behind it proved equally impressive. Enough so to make her most feminine place clench in desire. Pleasurable tingles raced across her woman’s flesh, a languorous and pulsing weightiness that – such a surprise – felt so very, very good.

“Oh, my.”

“No’ what you expected?”

“Nae,” she admitted, speaking true.

She just didn’t add how magnificent she found him. How much he intrigued and stirred her.

But she suspected he knew because he tilted his head and peered at her. “Nae complaints, then?”

She shook her head. “Not a one.”

“Then all is well.” He turned back to the tincture. “I’ll be done here soon.”

“Aye.” Madeline didn’t know what else to say. She did know she wanted to comb her fingers through his hair, a wish so strong that the tips of her fingers itched.

He was such a beautiful man.

“The tincture is ready.” He left the table, already dipping a length of linen into the steaming bowl. “You shall soon be free of your aches.”

“I am sure that is so.” She’d almost blurted that seeing him unclothed had given her a slew of new aches.

She pressed her thighs together, seeking relief, finding none.

“Are you in pain?” He lifted a brow. “You will have ease soon, I promise.”

“I am fine,” she fair squeaked, sure he knew what was troubling her.

“Just relax.” He wrung excess moisture from the linen. “Let me see to you. We shall speak of my plan while I apply the tincture.”

“No one can help me, not even you.” Madeline curled her fingers into the bed coverings. “All is lost at Abercairn.”

“But is it? How can you be sure?”

The words hung in the air, almost a challenge.

“What are you saying?” Madeline looked at him, his tone making her heart thump. “I do not understand.”

“You will soon enough.”

He said no more and, to her surprise, his eyes darkened with a trace of the sadness she’d felt with her gift so often in the weeks before they’d met.

“Tell me now.” She pushed up on her elbow. “Make me understand.”

“Ah, sweet, sweet, lass.” He covered her hand with his, gently stroking the tops of her fingers. “Things are no’ always as they seem, see you? I would spare you grief if you will let me.”

“I will let you do anything.”

“Have a care, sweeting.” He leaned in, his eyes even darker now. “Such words can do much to a man. And we” – he straightened – “must speak of grave matters.”

Madeline settled back against the cushions, hoped he couldn’t see her disappointment.

She wanted, needed…

“Be patient,” he minded, giving her hand a squeeze. “Put away your cares, every doubt and disbelief. Just be still, breathe, and listen,” he added, again rubbing her fingers, his warmth flowing into her, calming her.

Just as she supposed he meant it to do.

And it worked.

She was melting, swooning beneath his caress. Her worries drifted away, no match for his sensual ministrations, his magical touch.

She ached to reach for him, to draw him close so his soothing strength could pour even deeper inside her, wrap clear around her. She looked at his face then, and saw compassion.

Sighing, she felt an ache pierce her heart.

For all his supposed temper and tales of penance, she found her Master of the Highlands to be a great-hearted man of much depth and caring.

A man capable of untold tenderness and devotion.

Just as she’d known he would be.

“That’s a good lass. Breathe deep, be at ease…” He lifted his hand from hers, smoothed back her hair. “I have been thinking,” he began, rubbing a lock of her hair between his fingers. “A sky black with smoke will hide much of what lies beneath it, but that doesn’t mean the land below is no longer there.”

“What are you saying?”

“Can you no’ guess?” He released her hair, his eyes warming. “Think, lass.”

“You are trying to give me hope.”

“Nae. I am.”

“My world cannot be salvaged,” she reminded him. “You forget, I saw its end. It is no longer there. Not the Abercairn I knew and loved.”

“How can you know?”

“I was there.” She looked away, her eyes stinging.

“You didnae see your father die.” Iain touched her cheek, clearly hoping to gentle words he knew would distress her. “Could it be he yet lives? Perhaps held prisoner in his own keep?”

“Silver Leg is too cruel to have spared my father’s life.” Madeline shook her head. “He enjoys inflicting pain, especially on those unable to challenge him. He loves only gold more. Riches and, maybe, his two greyhounds.”

“You must think harder. Search your mind for a reason he may have for keeping your father alive. Think, too, why he sent his henchmen to look for you.”

Madeline blinked. “I cannot imagine what he wants of me, nor can I believe he would have ordered my father hauled off the pyre. He would not forgo the pleasure of watching him burn.”

“But you did no’ stay till the end?”

Madeline shuddered. “Nae. I ran when he was taken to the flames. That was enough, more than I could bear.”

Iain glanced at the window shutters, then back to her. “Perhaps we should learn if everything went as you believe?” he suggested, seeming to warm to the idea. “Aye, I think we should. It is time Silver Leg meets a worthier opponent than goatherds and older, ailing men.”

His smile flashed. “I shall illuminate him.”

“How?”

“With my sword arm and my wits.” He leaned forward to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“He has garrisoned Abercairn with his knights,” Madeline argued, still doubtful. “With your friend, Gavin MacFie, you are two. Even if he fights as fiercely as you, you remain too few against a castle filled with armed warriors.”

“It is no’ good to be so plagued by doubt, sweeting,” he said, again stroking her hair. “That, too, I have learned. Only recently, in fact.”

But she still watched him with disbelief, though he was sure he’d sparked her interest. At the least, he’d shifted her mind onto other things, away from the bad ones.

And for the moment, that was enough.

“I have two other men with me, great brawny lads,” he told her. For once glad Donall had sent along the two hulking oarsmen.

Now Madeline’s eyes did glimmer. “Warriors?”

Iain nodded. “Bloodthirsty and fearsome. The sort who’d enjoy nothing better than having Logie for breakfast and then gnawing on his bones for lunch. You will meet them on the morrow when we join Gavin and your friend.”

“So you are four.”

“Aye, but I could raise more if my wits don’t fail me – and they nae do, as I’ve told you.”

“Dare I hope?” Her voice broke on the words, her eyes glistening again.

“Aye, the hope is well-founded, but I cannae promise. No’ yet,” he told her true. “Chances are good, though.”

She smiled at that.

A tremulous smile that seemed to embarrass her because she lowered her head, blinking the moment the smile curved her lips.

“Oh!” she gasped, and Iain knew where her gaze had fallen.

“He is at rest, my lady.” He sought to ease her discomfort. “Dinnae let him trouble you.”

But to his great surprise, she peered closer. And when she did, he began to fill and lengthen beneath her scrutiny.

Her gaze stayed on him and she watched in apparent fascination as his maleness continued to swell and stretch.

“Oh, dear mercy!” Her eyes rounded. “Oh, dear, oh dear…”

He wasn’t even halfway hard.

Iain smiled. “Och, aye, lassie, ‘tis dear indeed, and I dinnae mean what you’re gazing upon,” he said, taking hold of his length, pinching until the swelling receded.

“Forgive me.” He tried to make light of his weakness. “You are a tempting minx. I couldnae help myself. I suppose he is no’ as bone-tired as I am.”

“I did not mind.” She lifted her gaze, meeting his. “See you, I have never-”

“Seen a man roused?” he finished for her.

“Nae.” She hesitated. “Only-”

“At ease?” He lifted a brow. “The snorers in your father’s hall of a night? And the worthies come to call, the knights requiring a courtesy bath?”

“They were … er … relaxed, aye.” She pressed a hand to her breasts, swallowed. “I had no idea they swell so.”

“‘Tis a tarse, lassie. And they do more than grow.” He tried not to smile. “Let us be glad that is so or the world would be mighty empty.”

Two bright spots bloomed on her cheeks. “I do not think other men run so large as you,” she blurted, the color on her face deepening. “I cannot imagine-”

“Ah, well.” He wasn’t about to tell her he was only at half-mast. Just speaking of such earthy matters with her had him filling anew. Worse, such proof of her innocence swelled his heart, a much more dangerous prospect.

“Shall I toss on my plaid?” He cocked a brow, hoping she’d decline.

“Nae, stay so.” She shook her head, pleasing him in ways he shouldn’t allow. “I am curious.”

“As you wish, then.” He smiled, let himself enjoy the pulling in his loins as he lengthened even more. “But take heed – one word from you, and I’ll cover myself.”

She shook her head again. “I am fine,” she said, her gaze lowering to fasten on him.

“If you are certain…” He didn’t finish, seeing that she was. “Look all you wish, I dinnae mind.

“I do think we should start with the tincture,” he added, moving to stand near her feet.

He’d spill if he remained so close to her feminine heat, her gaze locked on him.

He’d rarely been more roused. Her open interest and lack of coyness stirred him in ways no woman before her had ever touched him. He’d walk through life bare-arsed naked if only she’d keep devouring him with her gaze.

He took a long breath, willed himself not to set like granite.

“I’ll begin with the treatment now. Be at ease. Take long, slow breaths in and out,” he cautioned her as he applied one of the moss-steeped linens across the backs of her ankles. He pressed the warm cloth lightly around the raw skin there and her sigh of pleasure as he did so lifted his spirits even more.

He’d forgotten how good it felt to bring someone pleasure.

Even pleasure of such an innocent sort.

“I’m going to sit now, lassie.” He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, savoring her closeness but concentrating on the abraded flesh at her ankles lest his tarse attempt to heed its own mind again.

“That feels so good.” She sighed, shifted a bit on the bed. “I thank you.”

“Nae need.” He adjusted the warmed linen to cover the whole of her lower legs. “The sphagnum should work quickly to relieve the pain. You shouldnae notice any discomfort at all upon awakening.”

“Now just close your eyes, exhale, and let me rub and stroke you. It will help you relax and sleep.”

“Oh, I would like that.” She peered back at him, her eyes already heavy. “But I feel good now.”

“A careful rubbing will make you feel better,” he promised, and began kneading the backs of her calves through the warmed cloth, and she sighed yet again. A soft, contented sigh. Almost a purring sound. Iain’s heart tilted on hearing it.

Never had a lass purred for him.

Cried out in the throes of carnal passion, aye. But a luscious-sounding purr?

That was new.

And if Madeline melted simply upon having her lower legs massaged, the gods knew how she’d sing upon having such care given to other, more sensitive parts of her body.

But at the moment, her losses at Abercairn weighed heavier on his mind. The earthy, stirring words he burned to whisper in her ear would have to wait.

This night he’d be a gallant, albeit a naked one.

He did have a rebellious streak, and imagined he always would.

That truth admitted, he pushed to his feet, fetched more of the warmed linens. This time he wrapped them around her wrists. Holding them in place with firm but gentle pressure, he silently cursed the heinous deeds that had brought her such pain. He just hoped the plan taking shape in his mind would soon turn her sorrow to joy.

He would do everything in his power to make it so.