The Highlander's Bride Trouble (7 page)

Little wonder he was as massive and hard as he was. Her gaze slid over his face, finding
the details of his harsh life. It was there in the scar on his left cheek and the
bump in the center of his nose. Another scar ran through his right eyebrow, and there
were several on his bared forearms.

“That is a harsh way to live,” she whispered.

His dark gaze locked with hers. “As difficult as lying down in yer bed and knowing
yer own kin might be selling yer body?”

Nareen looked away, unable to share that pain with him. It was too deep, too personal,
too intimate.

“We all endure what we must,” she countered. “Only babes think life is fair.”

“Aye. As I endure being inside these walls to be near ye.”

He was leaning against the wall again. There was a hint of discomfort in his expression,
and she realized it was because he truly did not care for the walls surrounding him.

It was another thing they had in common.

She shook off the feeling. He inspired too many emotions in her. She finished her
meal and took the plate to a bucket used for dirty tableware. They’d be taken outside
in the morning for washing.

“Good night, Laird MacLeod.”

He remained leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Even with night
fully fallen, his shirtsleeves were still tied up to the shoulder to bare his arms.

“Good night, Nareen Grant, may yer rest be peaceful.”

There was something too calm about his words. She hesitated in the kitchen doorway,
trying to deduce what it was.

“As for meself, I am wide awake,” he continued, lowering the foot he’d had braced
against the kitchen wall. “Would ye care to ride with me?”

The impulse to nod was too strong, and she was already lowering her head before she
realized what she was doing.

“I cannae.”

He chuckled and rolled his shoulders before stretching his neck and casting her a
devilish look.

“But would ye dare to, Nareen?” He moved toward the door that led out into the yard.
He turned and offered her his hand. “That’s what I really want to know. Are ye going
to waste yer free time or find the boldness to enjoy it?”

“I do nae need to accept yer invitation to do as I please, now that Abigail is finished
with me for the night.” She walked past him to prove it. The night air was cool and
fresh, making her smile. With her belly full, her energy returned. She made her way
to the stables, and her mare let out a sound of greeting.

But Saer was the one who fit the bridle over the mare’s muzzle. He rubbed her head
gently too, showing he had a care for her feelings.

“I am nae riding with ye,” Nareen insisted.

“I’m sorry ye lack the courage to be in me company.”

She stiffened and faced him. “It is nae about courage.”

Saer turned, his kilt flaring out as he slid a hand around her waist and pulled her
against his body. She pressed her hands against his chest, but lost the urge to push
him away when she felt how hard his body was beneath his shirt.

“Ye should wear a doublet.”

He cupped her nape and leaned his head to the side so she felt his breath against
the skin of her neck.

“And miss the feeling of yer hands against me skin? Nae, lass. I came here for ye.
It is yer touch I was determined to feel.”

She trembled. “Have ye no shame?”

It was a foolish question, considering their position. He lifted his head and locked
gazes with her.

“What I have, is no use for pretense. Clothing is for keeping warm. I am nae cold,
but ye can feel that, cannae ye, lass?”

She could, and it pleased her in a way she had never thought of before. The urge to
slide her hand along the ridges of hard muscles covering his chest was gaining strength,
undermining her determination to remain unmoved. In another few moments, she’d be
nothing but a servant of her cravings.

“Fine. I’ll ride with ye.”

His eyes narrowed, and the grip on her nape tightened just a bit.

“So release me, and I’ll accept yer invitation.”

He grunted, frustration clear in his expression. But he complied, opening his embrace
to allow her free.

“I think ye are toying with me, Nareen.”

She grasped her mare’s bridle and began to lead her from the stable. “No more than
ye are with me, Laird MacLeod.”

She was sure truer words had never been spoken.

He chuckled, sending a blush onto her cheeks. “Which only proves what a fine match
we’d be.”

It only proved how well he could find her weaknesses. She should turn around. It would
be the sensible thing to do, but she didn’t. The night was warm enough and the air
so fresh. A smile curved her lips, and she simply didn’t have the strength to turn
her back on the freedom she’d find in a night ride.

At least riding was a weakness she might indulge in.

But she would have to make certain it was the only weakness she allowed to be fed
tonight.

***

Nareen didn’t wait for him.

She made her way through the yard as Saer readied his stallion to ride. He might have
caught up to her easily, but he trailed behind her. Perhaps stalk was a better word,
for it fit his feelings better.

She was going to use his name before the dawn.

It was a possessive thought, one he really had no business thinking. Nareen didn’t
belong to him, and she was a virtuous woman. Although riding out in the dark of night
didn’t fit the ideals of virtue. At least not for the more civilized—which he was
not.

Yet neither was Nareen.

Saer made his way through the open gate and swung up onto his stallion’s back. Beyond
the walls of the castle was the village, but Nareen didn’t ride toward the flickering
lights. She headed into the dark, where the starlight reflected off the stones.

He enjoyed the surge of anticipation warming his blood and grinned.

Savage. Aye, he was that. But Nareen Grant was wild, which made her his match. He
was looking forward to running her to ground, and the lass was going to enjoy it.
That was his solemn vow.

For a brief moment, Nareen was able to ignore everything. She was immersed in the
feeling of the horse moving beneath her and the way the wind ripped at her hair, making
her smile.

But she heard Saer closing the distance between them.

His stallion had heavier steps, and her mare let out a shrill cry before moving faster.
Nareen leaned low, hugging the sides of the horse with her thighs and moving in unison
with her.

The sounds of the stallion came closer. Anticipation tingled along her nape, raising
the tiny hairs and rippling down her spine. She’d never realized she might feel so
much sensation from just knowing a man was near.

With Saer, she felt his presence keenly. The darkness seemed to be intensifying the
connection between them. The urge to look behind her was impossible to ignore. She
turned her head and caught a glimpse of him.

He was magnificent. Like some legend from eras past.

His hair was held back with a thin braid along the left side of his face, telling
one and all he’d been born outside the bonds of matrimony.

It suited him.

There was nothing about him that fit into the model of what civilization lived by.

She drank in the details of his rugged physique. Strength radiated from him, hitting
her like a gust of wind. He surged past, taking the lead. In the night, stallion and
master were like living shadows. He rode hard, out across Ross land, until the fortress
was out of sight. Nareen never ventured so far, but she had no fear tonight. In fact,
she felt freer than she could recall ever feeling. Saer slowed and shook his head,
letting the stallion rear up and paw at the night sky.

She laughed, the sound silvery and refreshing. Her mare slowed, her strength spent
as she covered the last few paces to where Saer’s stallion was prancing in a small
circle. Saer kept the beast under control, his bare knees pressed into its sides to
keep himself firmly in the saddle, but he didn’t force the animal to stand still.

He clearly understood the creature’s nature. In fact, she was sure he shared it. Both
were powerful and unsatisfied by stillness.

“Come, lass, let’s rinse the ride off our skin.”

His words confused her until she realized the roaring she heard was the sound of water
nearby. She suddenly became aware of how sweaty she was, and the idea of bathing was
pleasing. At least it was until she looked up to see Saer leading the way.

Her mare was already in motion, following the stallion. Saer never looked back. She
watched the moonlight turn him silver as he sat strong and proud in the saddle.

She tightened her hands on the reins, beginning to pull up. The mare let out a disgruntled
nicker, making it clear she wanted to follow the stallion.

The reason was plain.

Nareen found herself envying the mare. The animal had far more freedom than she did.
For the horses, the instinct to touch was not wicked, yet it was for her.

Or
was
it?

The question was a valid one. There was no one about to stop her from doing whatever
she wished. Saer MacLeod might be a savage, but he was also one of the few men she
didn’t have to worry about running home to her brother with tales of her behavior
and how it didn’t fit what society expected of her. Besides, she did not even have
to fear the loss of her reputation—no one thought her a maiden any longer, even though
she was.

Freedom. Wasn’t that what she craved? Saer was offering it.

That much was also true. He wanted something as well. Still, she was as tempted by
him as she was weary of pretenses. So weary. Saer offered her the one thing she craved
above all others, the opportunity simply to be as she liked.

Now that was true freedom. It was an offer she’d never had from another human being,
except for her brother, Kael, when they were young. The memory shimmered, gleaming
with the allure of a time when she was the happiest she had ever been.

Saer tempted her in more ways than she’d ever imagined possible.

The water was spilling over a large outcropping of boulders. It cascaded down into
a pool that was several dozen feet across, before flowing down the side of the valley.
The moon was half hidden behind the clouds, but the faint silver light still turned
the surface of the water into a mirror. Ripples disturbed its surface as the water
continued to pound down.

Saer took a moment to survey the entire area, scanning the far shore of the small
pond and the top of the waterfall. Once he was satisfied they were alone, he dismounted
near the water’s edge, smoothing his hand along his stallion’s neck, then removing
the bridle. The animal shook its head, making its mane bounce, then lowered its head
to graze.

Saer pulled off his sword and leaned it against a rock. The trees had thinned out
near the shoreline. He leaned against a boulder and began to unlace one of his knee-high
boots. Nareen slid from the back of her mare and removed the bridle so the mare might
graze as well. The horses moved off, slowly nibbling at the grass.

Saer’s second boot hit the ground, and he reached for the tail of his wide belt.

He opened the belt holding his kilt around his waist and caught the length of pleated
fabric with a practiced hand. He draped it over the boulder.

“There is a tub in the kitchen.”

He shook his head and pulled his shirt off. Her mouth went dry as the starlight washed
over every hard inch of him. All of the strength she’d felt through the layers of
their clothing was there to behold.

“I’m not a babe to be washed in a tub like a dirty dish.”

He certainly wasn’t.

Every bit of him was molded and chiseled. Her gaze roamed along his shoulders and
chest, and farther down, to his flat belly.

She jerked her attention away. “Ye have no shame,” she accused, but she was breathless.

“What I have is no use for nonsense, preached by those who have always been fortunate
enough to have a bathing tub. It’s simple enough for them to tell ye it is a sin to
make use of what nature provides. The way I see it, God created this world, so wouldn’t
it be a sin to shun what he has crafted?” Saer pulled something from the surface of
the rock and started walking toward the water. “I’ll clean me body here, nae sitting
in me own filth. All I need is this bar of soap.”

He lifted his hand holding the soap, and continued on into the water.

“Ye had no right to have me follow ye here, when ye planned all the time to…to…”

He stepped into the water, wading until he dove straight into the pool. His body glided
through the water smoothly, making her skin itch to enjoy the same thing.

He surfaced and began to rub the bar of soap along his body. “Ye can turn around if
yer gentle sensibilities are too bruised, Nareen.”

“Do nae be ridiculous.” The words just slipped out, earning a chuckle from him.

“As I thought, ye are concerned only because ye are tempted to join me.”

He stood waist deep in the water, the dark liquid hiding the part of him she’d shied
away from looking at. She regretted that now. It was easier to fear the unknown.

She’d learned that under her cousin’s rule.

“Are ye trying yer hand at gentling me?” Suspicion coated her words. “Bringing me
along and allowing me to see ye in yer private moments so I’ll become more accustomed
to ye?”

He shrugged, drawing her gaze to his powerful shoulders again.

“Ye’re a woman fully grown, lass… What I want to know is what sort of woman do ye
plan to be? One who lives her life squeezing her eyes shut, or one who dances into
the shadows simply because they are there. I suppose there is some truth in yer words,
but consider this. What other man would care to put ye at ease when all he need do
is gain yer brother’s approval to have ye?”

“Why did ye no’?”

He stared at her, and she felt the connection just as keenly as she would have his
touch. “Me sire’s wife was a cringing coward. I remember her weeping in the hallways,
unable to look her husband in the eye.”

“She was English.”

“Aye.” He nodded. “And she never adjusted to being wed to a Highlander. All she gave
him was one fae-like daughter, but at least me sister, Daphne, has her father’s spirit.
The MacLeod deserve better than another mistress who cannae stand with her chin held
high.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she did not want to be his wife.

But she quelled the urge. To insult him for the sake of arguing was childish. He deserved
more than that from her. Aye, he was arrogant, but he was not a brute. At least he
hadn’t proved to be yet. But her brother could have contracted her to him without
a single word from her on the matter. As a laird’s daughter, she’d been raised to
expect to wed for her clan’s benefit. Saer claimed to have permission to court her,
and she had been foolish enough not to question what else Kael had agreed to.

Leaving the Ross castle so far behind suddenly seemed a poor choice.

Suspicion flooded her, and she looked at him.

He was working the soap along his chest, and she found herself wanting to do the chore
for him. The brief moments she’d felt his hard chest seemed too long ago. She craved
another opportunity to discover what his skin was like when in contact with her own.

He looked up, holding her gaze, and grinned. She paused, a memory surfacing of leering
faces peering down at her. Her fingers froze as her cousin’s voice invaded the moment.

Nareen shuddered, a horrified gasp escaping her lips. Even now, it felt like their
gazes had left a dirty smear on her skin. She was caught in the memory, feeling the
way she’d felt trapped in her tiny cell-like chamber. The moments feeling endless
until her cousin guided her clients away to look at another girl because they declined
to pay the price her cousin put on Nareen’s maidenhead.

A girl less fortunate than Nareen had been that night.

But she still heard the bar being shoved down on the other side of the chamber door
to make sure she was there when another buyer arrived.

A wet hand cupped her chin, bringing her attention back to the moment.

“Stay here with me, lass. The past belongs where it is.”

The feeling of his skin was firm and exactly what she needed. The past was a ghost,
one she refused to be chained to.

“Aye.” She yanked the lace that held her bodice closed free with more force than was
necessary, pulling the knot up so that she might loosen it. She needed to prove she
would not be ruled by Ruth or any of her bad memories.

But she still shied away from disrobing facing Saer. She turned her back on him and
forced herself to continue disrobing.

He’d seen a woman’s form before.

She was the same as other women.

Her arguments didn’t really reinforce her confidence. Hearing him step back into the
water did. The tiny splashing sound gave her enough courage to pull free the lace
that held her bodice closed. The moment she did, the fronts sagged beneath the weight
of her breasts. They felt swollen, her nipples tingling as they drew tight. She tossed
her bodice aside and opened her skirts. Her dress was simpler than Abigail’s, with
only one set of skirts secured to a single waistband. Once it was open, she untied
the small, padded bolster that went around her hips to save her back from the weight
of the wool, and it all dropped down to her ankles.

When she stepped free, her chemise fluttered in the breeze. She shivered, but it had
nothing to do with the temperature. The heat rising inside her was wild and uncontrollable,
but it also bolstered her courage.

“The water is refreshing, Nareen…” His voice was edged with temptation. She reached
for her braid and delayed turning around as she worked the strands free. A few years
ago, she’d dreamed of meeting her groom with her hair flowing as proof of her virginity.
Of course, that was before her reputation was tarnished.

So it didn’t matter what she did tonight. At least not to anyone except herself and
Saer.

Besides, if he ravished her, she could at last stop fearing it. That thought filled
her with courage. Or maybe it was desperation. But the idea of being free of fear
was enough to shed the last of her reservations.

She turned and found him submerged to his chin. The moonlight flashed off his eyes
as he watched her. But instead of making her self-conscious, his gaze made her bold.
He was the definition of strength, and she was not going to cringe in his sight.

The first touch of the water sent a chill up her leg. She stifled a giggle before
plunging her foot all the way in. It was cold only for the first moment. She hurried
deeper in and began to swim to accustom herself to the temperature. Within moments,
she was comfortable, the cool water soothing. She ducked beneath the surface to wet
her hair and smiled when she came up. Until she opened her eyes to find Saer right
in front of her.

The smile faded from her lips as their gazes locked. She felt the challenge coming
from him and stared straight back. She lifted her chin.

“Are ye satisfied, Laird MacLeod?”

Her tone had turned sultry, stunning her with how wanton she sounded.

“Aye…” He closed the distance between them. “And yet, nae.”

He offered her the bar of soap. Anticipation tingled in her belly as she eyed it.
There wasn’t enough light to judge his expression, but she felt he was testing her.
She reached out for the soap, curling her fingers around its slippery surface, but
he didn’t release immediately. For a moment, their fingers mingled, the soap coating
their skin.

She shook her head, not trusting her voice. Being near him was unleashing something
untamed inside her that was drawing her closer to him and his unabashed ways. With
him, there were no rules to cage her. But that was dangerous.

She tugged on the soap, and he released it.

Dangerous because there was nothing to bind them to each other. Part of her reveled
in that idea, but there was still a whisper of caution holding her back. Women who
fell from grace did not meet good ends. She swam closer to the shore where she could
touch the bottom, and began to wash herself.