by Terry Spear
All eight of them stared warily at Samuel and Catriona as they made their way to the fire. She pretended their hosts weren’t holding weapons, nor that she and Samuel were currently at their mercy. Hopefully they’d take note that Samuel was unarmed.
Catriona’s stomach growled. Whatever was in that pot would taste delicious right about now, even if it was a boiled boot.
The woman of the house cleared her throat. “We’ll sup in a few moments. We’ve not a lot, but enough to give ye each a bowl.”
“Many thanks, to ye,” Catriona said.
“Aye, much thanks for your hospitality.” The sound of Samuel’s voice startled the woman and she swiveled an angry glare at her husband who mouthed something unintelligible.
The heat of the fire distracted Catriona from their exchange. The warmth of it was so intense upon her frozen limbs it stung. She rubbed her hands together, feeling the ice on her bones begin to melt. Beside her, Samuel did the same. It was all she could do to keep from moaning a contented sigh.
She shifted on her feet as all the cold from outside melted away leaving tingly warmth in its path. Samuel nudged her with his hip.
“Warming up?” he asked under his breath.
“Aye. Ye?”
“Mm-hmm. Any places that you have no feeling?”
Catriona did a body check. She could feel everything, everywhere. “Nay.”
“Good, so you’ll likely not lose a toe from our travels.”
She raised a brow. “Have ye known someone to lose a toe before?”
With a serious nod, Samuel said, “Aye.”
Catriona cocked her head, suddenly wanting to know more about this Sassenach. “Who?”
“A man in my regiment. ’Twas last winter in France.” He rubbed his hands vigorously before the fire. “Lost two of his toes and his little finger.”
She couldn’t help the surprise that surely registered on her face. “I didna know France could be so cold. Ye were exposed to winter without shelter?”
He gave a gruff laugh. “You don’t know much about warfare, do you?”
She frowned. “I know something of it. I wouldn’t have met ye otherwise.”
Samuel narrowed his brow. “That was no warfare, my dear. In war, there is actually a battle fought. Sir Geoffrey likes to strike his enemies in the back. I give mine fair warning.”
“And nearly froze to death doing it?”
He shrugged. “I only do my duty to the king.”
“And do ye ever think that mayhap your king is wrong in his desires and requests of his people?”
Samuel cocked his head in thought, holding his hands closer to the fire. “There are times.”
His response was simple and curt, but it resonated deeply within her. “What will ye do?”
A small bowl of stew was thrust into her hands, and then another into Samuel’s. No spoons were given, and so they sipped it slowly. The family was content to ignore them, which Catriona was happy to respect since they’d opened up their home, hearth and pot to them. The soup warmed her from the inside out. She was actually starting to feel somewhat herself again.
Samuel stared at her over the rim of his soup. “I don’t know.”
“Ye could always be an outlaw.” She grinned.
He raised one brow and gave an exaggerated nod. “I am good with a bow.”
Catriona gave a light tsk of her tongue. “But your English accent would give ye away.”
“Och, bloody Sassenachs,” Samuel said, mocking the Scots’ brogue.
“A noble effort, Sir Samuel.” Catriona giggled and took another sip of the savory stew.
“Have you thought more about how you will entice your relations to help get rid of the English?”
The sudden change in subject caused Catriona to lose her smile. She chewed her lip. Could she trust Samuel? She wasn’t entirely certain she could, but just as she’d had no choice in trusting him as her companion, she might as well at least give him some of the truth.
“My cousin is married to a laird who is involved with… our guardian. I think they will help me. At least, I hope they will.”
Samuel’s eyes widened. “Our guardian?”
“The Guardian of Scotland,” Catriona whispered hoping their hosts weren’t listening too keenly. If they caught anything and took it out of context, instead of spending the night warm beneath a roof, they’d be out in the snow again—that is if their hosts even let them make it past the door alive.
Samuel flicked his gaze toward the family behind Catriona, then mouthed, “William Wallace?”
She nodded, but the look that slowly closed over Samuel’s face—guarded, entirely too interested—sent a shiver of fear racing through her. Had she said too much?
“I should like to meet him,” Samuel murmured.
“Why?” she asked, suddenly on the defensive for her fellow countrymen.
Samuel shrugged, feigning disinterest, but it was far different from the earlier spark in his eyes. “Because he is a legend among men.”
She took a sip of soup and then stared him straight in the eyes when she whispered, “And the single most wanted enemy of England.”
Samuel locked his gaze on hers, wiping all expression from his features. “That is not why I want to meet him.”
Was he lying? She studied his eyes. Blue as the sky, it seemed that she could search forever within them before she found anything remotely evil. And yet, he was her enemy. And she his. And she was leading him directly to the man he most likely had been trained to kill on sight.
“He will be surrounded by an army,” Catriona warned. “Put your ambitions for rising in the ranks of Longshanks’ army behind ye, Sassenach, else ye find your head rolling beside your feet.”
Samuel chuckled. “Ye have an uncanny knack of issuing threats that could make any man quake, Catriona, but I have to wonder”—he leaned closer so his forehead was nearly on hers and his breath tickling her cheek—“what would you do if put to the test?”
Catriona pondered Samuel’s question. What would she do if put to the test? She tried to keep the smile from her face, but the corners of her mouth twitched. She knew exactly what she would do.
Chapter 8
THE following morning Samuel begrudgingly woke with a screaming headache—most likely from the lack of sleep. He’d tossed and turned in the rank room off the side of the croft—one time earning a kick from some animal, he wasn’t quite sure which. But oddly, right now, he felt warm, and… aroused. The lack of windows made the room dark, but judging from the curvy female form beneath his arm and thigh, he had company. His cock was hard and pulsing as it pressed against rounded buttocks.
Ballocks! He stiffened, suddenly very concerned. Who was it? The mistress of the house would be bad, but even worse was Catriona.
He tried to tug his arm gently from beneath the head full of soft locks and failed miserably, hearing the thud as her skull hit the ground.
“Ouch!” ’Twas Catriona. She shifted beside him, sitting up.
Satan’s curse!
He must have slept harder than he thought to have not felt her slide under his blanket and mold her delectable body to his. He was fully awake now and light from the main room shifted into this darker one. Catriona swiped her hand through her hair and stared up at him accusingly.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he asked, leaping to his feet and checking to make sure he was wearing his clothes. Fully dressed, thank the saints.
Though, his body was reacting before his brain could tame it, growing harder still. The power of his desire for her was somewhat startling. He turned his back, lighting a candle he’d found the night before and pretending to prepare the horses so she wouldn’t see the ever increasing bulge.
“I—” But she didn’t say anything else, just huffed a breath.
Rustling sounded from behind, and then she was walking past him with another horse blanket and saddle.
She glanced up at him with sheepish eyes, crimson colorin
g her cheeks.
“What is it?” he asked, peering through the open door to the main room. But all he could think about was the way she’d felt in his arms, soft, silky, warm, curves in all the right places.
Catriona let out a harsh breath. “The giant and his wife… They were…” Her cheeks colored even more.
A few more minutes of him being half asleep and he might have done the same thing to her.
Samuel restrained himself from laughing, but a brief bursting chuckle left his mouth. “So you thought it best to cuddle up with me?” he teased, also relieved that he had woken up in time before his unconscious mind had taken the action his cock had desired.
Her mouth fell open, obviously reading more into what he’d said than he intended. Or had he intended it? Watching the emotions cross over her face was very entertaining, especially after the tease she’d given him upon waking.
“Certainly not. I only preferred not to hear the two of them carrying on beneath their blanket.”
Samuel grinned and winked. “I don’t blame you. Been plenty of times I’ve been in that same situation. Nearly was this morning.”
Her mouth fell open. “In your dreams, Sassenach.”
“Aye.” He left it at that, because as much as he was supposed to hate her for being a Scot, he found her utterly enticing and altogether intriguing.
She glanced at him from over the back of her mount and looked as though she wanted to ask him a question, but then ducked her head and the moment was lost. Damn, but he wanted to ask what she would say. Wanted to know if she’d felt heat coursing through her veins when he’d held her. Wanted to know if she’d like to try again… Oh, devil’s cock but he couldn’t be thinking that way. They had several more days of travel—if not a fortnight—that they’d be alone together.
“Would ye mind terribly if we got on our way?” Her voice came out throaty, harsh. The sound of it did things to his mind and body, pushing him almost to the brink of his limits.
Samuel wanted to kiss her, wanted to press her up against the wall as he’d done at the castle, so he could feel her heart beat beneath his, but instead he cleared his throat. “Not at all. Have you looked outside?”
She shook her head, tending to her horse.
“I’ll go and check then.” The byre had no windows—a poor decision considering the smell of the muck on the floor. No doubt when he and Catriona left, they’d both need a good scrubbing to get the scent of animal dung off their clothes.
He tiptoed into the main room. All still slept save the woman who stirred porridge in the pot. She glanced at him, her eyes widening, and she looked ready to scream.
“We’ll be leaving in a moment; I just wanted to get a peek out your window.”
She closed her mouth and nodded.
Samuel opened the shutter. Outside, the ground was covered in a thick layer of white and the limbs sparkled with ice, but the sky was clear of clouds and the sun was just beginning to burst on the horizon. Looked to be frigid, but at least the storm had passed.
“The horses are ready,” Catriona whispered beside him. “It stopped snowing.”
Samuel nodded. “We’ll ride until it’s dark, and look for shelter along the way.”
She glanced up at him sideways, and nodded. “Aye, we will.” There was something odd in her face, the way she said it that made him uncomfortable. Just where was she taking him? Why did he suddenly feel as though he was no longer the one deciding their destination?
Catriona turned to their host and said, “Thank ye so much for your hospitality. We’ll be on our way now.”
“Care for some porridge before ye leave?”
“Aye,” Samuel said quickly before Catriona could deny the woman’s offer. He glanced down at his guide and said, “We’ve a long way to go today. ’Twould be good to leave with a full belly.”
Catriona chewed her lip and fidgeted, but in the end nodded and accepted the bowl the woman handed her. They ate quickly as the family rose and slowly began their own morning duties. Not a half-hour later, Samuel and Catriona had led their horses outside and were preparing to depart. The family had firmly closed the door behind them, leaving Samuel to wonder at their own standings within their country.
“We need to move,” Catriona said, her breath forming small steam clouds as she spoke. It was frigid, but the wind did not blow. Much better traveling conditions. “I’ve a terrible feeling in my bones that the English will soon know we were here.”
The way she said, the English, made it sound almost as if she no longer lumped him in with his own people. For some ungodly reason, that pleased him. He didn’t want her to think of him with as much disdain as she thought of the rest of his countrymen.
“Lead the way,” he said, “for we are both in trouble should the English catch up with us.”
Catriona glanced around, perhaps taking in the direction of where they’d come from in the dark, and then veered her horse to the right. “If we cross through the border between McNab and MacLaren land, we’ll be safe from the Campbells for a while.”
Samuel knew nothing of the names, but trusted she wouldn’t want to put herself in danger, and so he followed her along the wooded road. Their horses, having been well rested, warmed and fed, easily trotted on the course, kicking up tufts of snow.
“What is the name of your relation from whom we are going to visit?”
“Visit?” The high pitch of her voice gave away her nerves.
“Where are we headed?” Samuel said in a more stern voice.
Catriona’s shoulders slumped briefly before she straightened them again. “We are headed to Sutherland, as ye requested.”
Samuel reached out, realizing too late that he was touching her when he’d promised that he would never do so again. But the lass had curled up beside him the night before; she could handle his hand at her elbow.
“There is something you aren’t telling me.”
She glanced down at his hand on her elbow, but made no move to pull away; instead, she slowed her horse as though she wanted him to continue touching her.
“Everyone has their secrets.” A slight curve lifted the side of her lip. “And I am part of that group. But, ye must trust that in this, I will help ye get your sisters back, and I do pray that no harm has come to them.”
“As do I.” Samuel couldn’t bear to even think about what his sisters might be going through at that very moment.
“Samuel,” she said softly. “I am aware that there are men of Scottish descent who are just as cruel as men like Sir Geoffrey.”
She glanced back at him, brows furrowed and he wanted to ask how she knew that, for it seemed that she had her own tales to tell.
“When I say I’ll pray for your sisters, I do not lie, Samuel. Ye’ll have to trust me on our journey.”
Samuel studied her profile, taking in her creamy complexion with a touch of rouge on her high cheekbones. She might be beautiful, but she was also hiding something. And intuition told him that she was indeed not headed to Sutherland. “If ’tis all the same to you, my lady, I trust no one.”
Catriona grunted. “Then I suppose we have more in common than I first thought.” She clucked to her horse and hurried forward, an obvious move to deter him from further discussion.
Had crawling into his makeshift bed been a way to distract him? Confuse him upon waking into thinking of other things besides their mission so she could… What? He couldn’t figure it out, but he was nearly certain she was up to something.
He’d let her have her way for the moment, but by the end of the day, he’d know exactly what it was this little Scottish wench was up to.
HE was onto her.
But Catriona cared about her brother and her clan a lot more than she cared for Samuel’s cause. They came first. Which meant she had to lie to him. And really, what did a little lie matter anyway? She had no loyalties to Samuel other than her promise to help him find his sisters, which, with her change of plans, there was still a fairly good chance she
would.
She was normally a very good liar, but this English knight always seemed to see right through her.
They rode for the next several hours in silence, crossing quietly between the two clans’ lands with only two incidents where they had to stop and lay low until scouts passed. It was cold outside, but the cloak and blanket she’d been given did keep her body mostly warm. She wasn’t as cold as she’d been the day before in the storm. A night before the fire had dried her clothing. However, her boots were still slightly damp and the cold of the day only made them colder. She kept her toes wiggling to keep them from freezing right off.
Only a couple more hours and they could begin looking for shelter for the night. The horse she rode was already starting to slow down. She took her pace down to a walk to give the animal a bit of rest.
And then she saw it. The huge oak tree that spanned six feet in diameter. The way the seed had split hundreds of years earlier created two trees that grew as one. ’Twas named the Fairy Tree—or at least that’s what she’d been told—of Handsel Gleann. The patterns of the swirling bark looked like a fairy had carved a door that led into a magical realm. The tree was also directly in the center of a circle of stones. A sacred ground. She’d never forget seeing this tree and stones on her last journey north, the way it made her blood tingle with ethereal power—nor that a warm spring was a few steps behind it.
“Shall we stop to water the horses?” Catriona asked, finding it hard to hide the excitement from her voice. Within a few minutes, she could be dipping her toes into a heavenly pool of warm water.
Samuel was staring in amazement at the circle and tree, and she wondered if her own face had looked much the same upon first seeing such an impressive sight.
Finally, he glanced over at her. “Is there a creek nearby?”
Catriona cocked her head. “’Haps something a little warmer.”
Chapter 9
“WARMER?” The way Samuel cocked his eyebrow, his gaze flowing up and down the length of her body had Catriona’s memory bringing vividly to the forefront the way she’d woken that morning.
