“What be the problem over there?” Cameron popped out from behind another horse. His sudden arrival brought flames to her cheeks.
“No problem. The lady lost her footing. All is well. See to the men.”
He lied to Cameron.
Kirk flashed a look that begged her to go along with his sudden subterfuge. Not wanting to cause discontent among her rescuers, she nodded. Kirk smiled and Cameron glared. When his cousin turned away, she caught the guilt flooding Kirk’s face.
Why should he act guilty? It’s not like I belong to anyone anymore.
A horrid thought rippled through her but she shook away the notion. Both Reid and Kirk told her Kirk hadn’t had a girlfriend for some time.
Where’s the harm in playing along?
When she forced a tiny smile, he inhaled deeply. She listened as his breath hissed past his teeth.
Maybe he isn’t acting.
Kirk’s glare burned through her from lips to toes. When he swept his gaze up and down her body, heat seared her skin and she could sense a blush spread from her cheeks to chest, all but broadcasting her attraction to the man. Why couldn’t she get a handle on her reactions?
“My lady, ye look in need of rest. Perhaps a bath?”
“I’m eager to get to our destination.” Wherever that might be. The man’s eyes flashed the moment she refused to back down from his glare. The blue of his eyes bore into her, enhanced by his own flushed cheeks due, no doubt, to Cameron’s interruption. Though she stood her ground, sweat bloomed around the collar of her itchy bodice. His polite offer of a bath began to sound more like a necessity.
Yet I can’t ignore the need to keep him at a distance.
“I would love to take a bath,” she said, a little too quickly. To gain control, she wiped her hands down her skirts to dry her sweaty palms.
“I thought you might, dear lady.”
“But, I don’t think I want to bathe with an audience.”
Kirk glanced at the dozens of men who moved along the banks of the river. He turned back to Haven. “We must not stay too long in one place, but a short bath in this stream could be arranged.”
“What about the men following us? Shouldn’t we get to a town and make a formal complaint at a police department?”
“Police department?”
“Yeah, the men in blue. The guys with guns. The law.”
“Aye, villages have men who keep the peace. However, the men who follow might be Mackenzie’s men, mercenaries, outlaws for hire—”
“I know what a mercenary is.”
“Good. As I was saying, it is our duty to either flee or fight. Normally we love a good fight, but we must not stray from our destination.”
“Castle Ruadh?”
“Aye. We must not risk the wagons…or ye.”
“But, what if they—”
“Guards are posted. Others lag behind as scouts. Once inside the safety of the castle’s walls, our shadows will not linger. They will find easier prey to hunt, and forget ye.”
“And you?”
His eyes widened.
Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
She didn’t care what happened once she found her way to the games. Would he?
Kirk’s eyebrows rose as he seemed to contemplate her words. “I shall never forget ye, my lady.”
* * *
Haven slipped off her borrowed shoes and untied the golden sash corralling her ponytail. Without shampoo, she hoped dunking her head would at least wash off the road dust and horsey smell. Turning toward the river, she stared in awe at its magnificence. White foam raced over half-submerged rocks. Tall grass swayed in the breeze. On the far side, rocky peaks beckoned.
“Everything looks wrong. I must be more tired than I realized. Perhaps a bath will snap me out of this confusion.” She turned back to Kirk.
He watched her, intently.
“There aren’t any vistas like this near the Highland games. I’ve traveled all over New England. These peaks and this river are totally foreign.” She spread her arms wide toward the graceful river valley. “I know because I have a photographic memory.”
“Photo…graphic?”
“I remember everything I see in complete detail.”
“That is quite a gift, among many ye possess.” His deep smile pulled at his ragged scar, giving him a devilish grin. A strong gust of warm wind buffeted his hair.
Heat flooded her cheeks, again.
Stop blushing like a teenager every time he smiles!
Haven spun, then tiptoed into the water. The chill made her gasp.
Behind her, Kirk chuckled.
The cold could not sway her from her bath. She smelled, simple as that. Re-enactors followed their historical playbill to the letter.
“Give me yer clothes.”
“No.” She swung back to face him and nearly lost her balance on the mossy bottom. His blue eyes darkened to black. His glare, obviously meant to scare her, hinted at his sexual attraction. When his brow wrinkled, Haven watched with feigned interest as he rubbed his strong, square chin with one hand while the other hand rested on the hilt of his dirk.
He shaved. When?
Her thighs were still raw and chafed from his beard. Now he wanted her clothes? She refused to strip in front of him no matter how dirty. Taking orders from any man ended the same day Cal broke her heart.
“My lady,” he said, approaching cautiously, “I merely want to relieve ye of yer burden. I have a clean towel for ye.”
Happy at the prospect of rinsing the dirt away, she unlaced her bodice. He moved closer. “Please…”
“Are you begging?” she teased. Dropping her vest beside her shoes, Haven rolled her skirt up high and then waded into deeper water.
“Please, Haven.” He growled and held out his open hand. “Give me yer overdress. Keep yer under clothes on.
The poor man. He’d shown her nothing but kindness and had had ample opportunity to take advantage of her.
Trust starts here.
She peeled the outer dress up and over her head. The wet hem made it heavy. The hot sun would hopefully dry it before she had to replace it, later. Kirk’s gaze did not move from her chest.
With a grunt of satisfaction, she tossed the dress through the air to the bank, ignoring his outstretched hand. Tearing his gaze from her, he walked over, stood near the river’s edge, and picked up the lump of fabric. She turned away before removing her muslin chemise.
Being true to the times, as Iona had requested, Haven hadn’t worn a bra or underwear. A pang of self-consciousness trickled through her all the way to her numb toes. The lure of a clean body and dirt free hair won out. Tossing the chemise over her head, she lowered herself into the chest-deep water and slowly pivoted toward shore.
“Leave my clothes on that rock over yonder. Drop the soap and towel then scram.” The crook of his mouth, somewhere between a sneer and a smile, made her throat constrict. Her laugh came out weak. They’d been intimate in a darkened tent, but that didn’t mean she’d let him peek at her in broad daylight. His eyes, smile, and tented kilt said he wanted to watch. And more.
Not yet. Not until he gets me home.
Kirk laid her clothes on the rocks. His chest expanded as if he’d inhaled a deep breath. Then he strode toward the makeshift camp beyond the trees. Staring at his broad shoulders, tan muscles, and warrior gait, she shook off her silly sex-starved yearnings and recalled the rolled up, crimson gown packed on her horse.
Iona will kill me.
Haven had accidently abandoned her duties and ruined a beautiful gown. She wanted to return to the games before they ended, but in her heart she knew she wasn’t eager to return to her drab apartment, the four walls filled with sparse decorations and hand-me-down furniture.
Time enough to think about all this, later.
As chilly water cascaded over her matted hair, Haven ran numb fingers through the strands.
What I wouldn’t give for a comb.
She waded farther o
ut, but stayed clear of the stronger current. Kicking her feet as she swam to loosen caked dirt from her calves and toes, the cool water made her nipples peak. Winded, she let her feet fall to the bottom.
Stubbing her toe on the rocky riverbed, she glided into waist-deep water. Standing, Haven wrung excess water from her hair. A prickle ran down her back. She searched the shore.
Silly. I’m alone. Or am I?
* * *
Cameron Robeson had never seen anything as glorious as the raven-haired goddess before him, a naked water nymph. She stood close to shore and glowed with an earthy beauty. Strong arms, a trim waist, and breasts to fit a man’s hand made him burn. True, his cousin all but declared she belonged to him, but the two conversed with mutual animosity. Kirk swore he had not slept with her.
The fool.
Kirk’s upcoming marriage meant there might be room for Cameron in Lady Haven’s life. He did not perceive her as the type of woman to accept life as Kirk’s mistress no matter how she felt for his cousin.
Heat flooded his loins and his cock hardened at the sight of her. Her abundant curves topped by rosy nipples twisted his insides. He did his best not to rush into the water, grab her, lay her on the grass, and thrust his rock-hard shaft deep inside her loveliness.
Her nipples poked toward him, teasing him. Darker curls peeked from lower still. She had first joined their party wearing a muddy, blood-splattered gown, yet had carried herself with a regal surety.
Cameron strove to ignore the tenting of his plaid. His tongue slipped out and wet his lips. A breeze tossed his hair across his face and he swiped away the interference with sweaty fingers, not wanting to miss a moment.
She stood all alone and within his grasp. All he need do was walk up to her. He was more handsome than his cousin, without the savage scar that marred Kirkwall’s face. As he contemplated his next step, she reached down and grabbed the dry bit of linen, giving him a glimpse of more naked skin beneath the tumble of black silky hair.
God’s teeth, why must she conspire to make me lame?
Suddenly aware that others roamed nearby, he cursed. This might be his only opportunity; to talk to her alone; to touch skin as pale as fresh churned buttermilk; to kiss lips as red as summer berries.
Would she taste as sweet?
How could she not fall in love with him? He would steal her away from the great Kirkwall Gunn, lift her skirts, and make her his. The cloaked man promised the delectable lady to him for services rendered. Cameron aimed to collect the bonny lass, along with his gold.
After all, my dear cousin has his betrothed.
CHAPTER 15
An eerie chill swept down Haven’s spine. She sensed that someone watched her. She glanced upstream and down. Wrapping the towel around her, she shrugged. The pervert could be lurking beyond the hobbled horses, or in the trees. Anywhere.
Probably Kirk.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang. She might as well embarrass the man into showing himself. Nothing stirred. The soft whinny of horses, the gurgle of the river swirling around her legs, and the breeze through the trees were the only sounds.
Turning numb from the water’s chill, Haven moved her feet from the water to the moss-covered shore. A stiff breeze had risen, causing tiny goose bumps on her damp skin. She lifted her face in search of the noonday sun. Only fast-moving clouds blotted the sky. After the morning’s oppressive heat, she ought to welcome the clouds. Instead, she shivered then wrapped her arms around her stomach.
A prickling sensation raked over her body. Her voyeur was still near. She bent down, scooped up her dress, vest, and slippers, then trotted toward camp. She shoved aside the urge to slip on dry clothes over her still-damp skin.
Not with someone watching me.
With her bundle held in front like a shield, she entered the clearing then stopped in her tracks. Dozens of people swung their attention her way. Kirk, propped lazily against a tree, pushed off and headed straight for her.
Haven froze in place, clad only in a small bit of linen. With her chin raised, she watched him march closer. Dismay etched his face. Even if it hadn’t been Kirk peeking at her, she’d let him know exactly how she felt about his merry band of perverts.
“My lady? Why are ye not dressed?” Lowering his voice he said, “Ye take chances among my men.”
“And I asked for privacy. Since you did not give me that, I’ll wait until you remedy the situation. I believe a tent would suffice.”
“We do not stop here today. To pitch a tent is a delay we cannot afford. What did ye find wrong with the river? Ye had privacy. Even now, the other ladies wait patiently to be allowed their bath.” His arm swung to his side, pointing out the various women holding similar bundles.
“I’m sorry if they were inconvenienced. This wasn’t my intention.” She offered the group of women a smile. “Someone spied on me from the trees.”
His eyes widened and a growl made her step back two paces.
“Don’t get mad at me.”
“Search out the scoundrel!” His bellow had several armed men hustling down the trail, toward the river.
“Please come this way, my lady,” said the older woman, Anice. “We shall hold up our clean dresses to curtain ye, and ye may change within.”
Haven smiled then followed them to some trees. She walked behind the quickly built fortress of fabric and pulled on dry clothes.
Gavina hadn’t joined them.
Instead, she stood off to the side staring from Kirk to her. Haven’s first thought? To inform her that nothing was going on between her and Kirk.
But, I’d rather not lie.
* * *
Hours later, when night had descended on their group and the men had set up camp beneath the protective canopy of an unfamiliar forest, Haven’s anger turned formidable. Even when a man began to play a tune on a lute-like instrument, her stomach twisted and her shoulders shook at the audacity of whoever had watched her bathe.
When another man joined in with a small drum, she willed her body to relax. The melody eventually soothed her with its carefree notes. Several men obviously felt the same, since three jumped up and danced. Their joyful hops, up-stretched arms, and gay music pacified her anger.
Tension eased from her knotted neck muscles. After an excruciating day, weariness drove her toward her tent. She lit a small, fat candle with a flaming twig, then walked inside. The tent stood far from the light and warmth of the campfire, but she welcomed the illusion of privacy.
Grumbling men had left the impromptu party to stand guard while they cursed whoever followed them. The women fixed and then offered a simple meal, but she had no appetite. Their play acting was too out-of-this world. She kept waiting for someone to jump from the trees and yell cut.
After removing most of her clothes, Haven sank into wool blankets and silky furs without bothering to wash. “The pleasure of bathing has lost its appeal.”
“I am sorry to hear this.” Kirk said as he slipped inside the tent. “Imagining ye splashing naked in a stream makes my life more pleasurable.”
“What do you want?”
He placed a platter of something brown and steamy beside the bed.
Since she wore only her thin chemise, Haven pulled the furs up to her neck. Her unease intensified when he began to strip.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Outrage had her gripping the furs while she rose to a sitting position. She’d raised her voice, and he stopped unfurling his plaid from around his waist.
“I am tired, Haven. This day has been long. I need sleep. Move to the side or move beneath me. Either choice shall find me unconscious and unaware of yer charms til morning.”
He turned away and finished undressing. When he bent over to lay his folded great plaid on the ground, she swallowed. Candle light flickered over his tawny skin and muscular buttocks. Thigh muscles bunched and stretched as he straightened then sat on the edge of the bed.
His sigh echoed in the semidarkness of their ten
t. A tent she had wrongly assumed was all hers. His boots hit the ground with a dull thud. His spicy scent surrounded her until she smelled stew.
“Is the food for me?”
“I brought enough for both.” He turned toward her and offered her a slice of bread. She scooped a mouthful of stew then chewed. She stared haphazardly at his profile as he ate. His lips pulled at his scar as he ate. His pain-filled grimaces made her yearn to reach out and lay her fingers against his wound to offer comfort.
A better thought sprang to mind, and she jumped from bed. Haven discarded her blanket, ignored her near-nakedness, and grabbed a small bowl. She poured water from the water skin, dug a few packets of powders from her saddlebag, and returned to his side.
“What are ye up to, lass?”
“Sit still.” Haven pulled her attention from his nakedness, sat beside him, and spread a thin poultice over the scar on his face.
He grimaced, then shivered.
“Does it hurt?” She stilled her hand, worried she’d made his agony worse.
“No. ‘Tis cool. And it smells. What is this?”
“A simple medication, like the stuff I put on Balfour’s burn and Reid’s shoulder.” She wiped off her fingers and placed the bowl beside the empty platter. When she turned back, she accidently rubbed against his naked thigh.
Heat flashed through her. Haven’s skin bristled with desire. Could he smell her arousal? Here she sat beside a handsome Highlander wannabe.
Who am I to argue with my good fortune?
“Are you too tired to play?” she whispered, then bit her lower lip.
Why am I taunting him?
He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, careful to miss her poultice. Then he lowered his tankard of ale to the floor and blew out the candle. He climbed beneath the coverings before she had a chance to see anything.
Every finger trembled as she reached for him in the dark. When she connected with his chest, she curled her fingertips in the soft curls that lay between his nipples. His breathing grew raspy, yet he did not move to touch her. Gaining a sense of empowerment over such a domineering example of Scottish brute force, Haven slid her fingernails beneath the furs, down his chest, then his abdomen.
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