The bed was as soft and snug as it had ever been and yet somehow now that she better knew Adam, knew his scent and the fact that she was lying in his usual place, she somehow could no longer sleep. She tossed and turned as the comforting smell of him filled her, the blankets seemingly holding her as if they were his own arms.

Stop it, she scolded herself, you’re being ridiculous. The man was too serious, too curmudgeonly, and yet … there was something about him that held her attention and wouldn’t let go. At first, she thought it was his seriously dark, handsome good looks. And yet all of the brothers seemed to hold a similar bearing, each attractive in their own right, but she was drawn to Adam like she had never been to a man before. Certainly not Vincent, she thought with a laugh. Perhaps that was it — she had simply been around Vincent so long that any other attractive man held her attention.

She knew, however, that was not the case. True, Adam wasn’t exactly the droll, humorous type, but she was beginning to realize it was more that he was simply thinking, analyzing what was happening around him. He truly thought about what he wanted to say before he spoke, which was actually quite refreshing for a change.

She tried to push him from her mind and return to sleep, but she was also incredibly thirsty — perhaps from the concoction Jane had continued to encourage her to drink to keep any pain at bay, although Rebecca had to say her leg hardly even throbbed at all now. She looked for the cup of water on the bedside table but found it empty. She sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon.

They had all told her to call out if she needed anything, but she certainly was not going to rouse anyone from their beds in order to get her a cup of water — that was ridiculous.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, slightly grimacing as she did so. Perhaps the pain hadn’t quite disappeared after all. You’re stronger than this, Rebecca, she told herself, and, in the darkened room, quite determinedly found the walking sticks Adam had fashioned for her. They did afford her a great deal of freedom, and she hoped he would make the design more widely known so that others could benefit.

The kitchens were, of course, one level below, but she did not let that deter her as she grunted and groaned her way down the stairs, taking them carefully, one step at a time. She felt rather pleased with herself when she finally reached the bottom, and began making her way down the corridor to where the ancient kitchens were housed.

She was about to push open to the door when she saw light emanating from the room through the open crack of the door. It seemed someone else was unable to sleep this tonight. She peered around the door and saw broad shoulders bent over the table, the dark head of the man down as he stared into the cup before him, his fingers tapping idly on the table. Adam. Forgetting her thirst, she was suddenly somewhat overcome with nerves at the thought of sitting down alone with him, and she began to slowly back away.

“Are ye going to come in or stand in the hallway all night?” he said suddenly, causing her to jump and let out a bit of a squeak.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked, tapping her way into the kitchen.

“I could hear ye coming from the moment you started on the stairs,” he said. “Ye’re not exactly silent with your assists.”

“Oh,” she said, embarrassed she had not realized it. “I suppose you’re right.”

She looked around the kitchen, trying to determine where she could find a cup. She hobbled over to a side cupboard and began searching through. Adam saw her struggle and rose, his large frame coming up behind her, suddenly dwarfing her. He placed a large, warm hand over her small one.

“Here,” he said, “let me help.”

She tried to ignore the tingle that coursed through her as she moved to the side, allowing him to find a cup.

“What would you like?” he asked.

“Water, please,” she said, and he nodded his head, filling the cup for her as she made her way to the small table. After she seated herself across from his place, he set the drink in front of her.

“What has you awake at this hour?” he asked, re-settling himself on the wooden bench.

She felt her cheeks warm. She couldn’t very well tell him that she had been thinking of him lying in the bed, now could she?

“I, ah … um … my leg was bothering me,” she said, rather flustered, and his face changed to a look of concern.

“I thought it was healing. I hope it’s not infected. Would ye like something more for the pain? I’m sure my mother has something in the cupboards that I remember how to brew…” His head craned around as if looking for answers to her problem.

“Oh, no!” she said, not wanting to take any more of the concoction. “It’s fine. It’s just slightly uncomfortable is all, and then I found myself rather thirsty, hence my journey here to the kitchen.”

“Well, if there is anything ye should need, you’ll tell us, aye?” he said with a raised eyebrow and she nodded.

“Why are you all so nice to me?” she blurted out. “My father was nothing but rude to you, and I know I rather vexed you, though not purposefully. I’m only here because of the stupidity of a member of our hunting party. And yet you’ve all been nothing but wonderfully kind, bringing me here, seeing to my welfare, and caring for me. Why, you’ve even given up your bedchamber for me!”

“’Tis fine,” he said. “Though Roderick snores awfully loud.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling even more guilty. “I am so sorry.”

He laughed “I’m only jesting. We have plenty of bedrooms.” He waved a hand in the air as if dismissing her concerns. “And we would do the same for anyone who was in need, be they Scottish or English. It’s in our blood, I suppose. As long as ye are not fixing to take our land or harm our people, then we’ll do right by you. Except for my mother.”

“Oh?” she said, raising her head at that, surprised for Jane seemed nothing but kind.

“My mother will help anyone, friend or foe,” he said with a laugh.

“She is rather wonderful,” Rebecca said wistfully.

She saw him look at her with question in his eyes, but she wasn’t quite ready to share that part of her story with him.

“It seems ye have a sad story to tell, lass, but there is no need to share with me,” he said, and her heart turned, suddenly wanting to tell him more as a way to become closer to the man.

“For now, tell me the story of you and your fiancé. Ye must be looking forward to being reunited,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, and she stilled, suddenly remembering what she would return to shortly.

“How many times do I have to tell you that Vincent is not my fiancé?” she said vehemently, and he gave a short laugh.

“It seems the man has other ideas — as does yer father. When he was here, he was going on about your upcoming wedding, and how ye were not to be left alone with the likes of us. I’m sure he would sorely disapprove of this nighttime rendezvous.”

She looked down, unable to meet Adam’s eyes at his last sentence, choosing to answer him with the seriousness of which he began this conversation.

“My father … certainly has his own views on my life and how things should be,” she said. “However I’m sure soon he will come to understand that I have no wish to marry Vincent, not now or ever. Vincent is … well, I suppose one could say that Vincent thinks rather highly of Vincent.”

Adam laughed at that, his face breaking out into a beautiful smile that warmed not only her heart but her entire body down to her toes. His laugh was a musical sound and made her smile then join in. She had not meant to jest, but she supposed a man who regarded himself as highly as Vincent did perhaps deserved a laugh on his behalf.

They shared the smile for a moment, but soon she lost all brevity as his face took a rather serious facade as he stared at her, as if trying to learn more of her.

“Adam,” she said, her breath suddenly hitching in her throat, not really knowing what she was going to say, but feeling she needed more from him, from their time together. “I … I just want to say that I …”

“Aye?” he said, leaning over the table towards her.

“I’m sorry if the English have been so utterly boorish toward you,” she finally said, unable to speak aloud what was running through her mind — that she had feelings toward him she couldn’t explain, feelings that went beyond friendship and gratitude, but rather something more profound, something she had never felt before. She felt a pull toward him that came from deep inside her, and she wanted to know him so much better. When she’d come to the Highlands, she had yearned for adventure. Never did she realize she would find it, not only in the land, but in a person as well. She wanted to tell him so badly, but she had never been particularly forward, and she didn’t know how to even begin putting her thoughts into words. Instead, she simply looked up at him, trying to convey all she felt through her stare.

He looked down at his hands and cleared his throat. “I ah, I should be getting back to bed,” he said. “As should you. I’ll help you to your room.”

“Your room, you mean?” she said with a smile. “I should be fine.”

“Well, let me take you up some water then, at the very least.” He rose and filled her empty cup. As they made for the stairs, she glanced wistfully back at the kitchen, as if leaving the room somehow had left behind the opportunity to find what she was truly looking for.