Tyler, Lynn - For Her Honor [For Her] (Siren Publishing Classic) (5 page)

She was almost to the tree line when a soft “lass” stopped her in her tracks. She turned around and saw one of the men rising from the ground. “Where do you think you are going?” he asked.

She showed him her bow and arrow. “I was going to catch some rabbits to break our fast,” she said.

He walked over to her, looking fresh and chipper. “You look wide awake,” she commented absently, fussing with her arrows as he fell into step beside her.

“I had the last watch,” he answered. She could feel her cheeks flushing as she realized he had been awake the whole time she had been cuddled up to the black-haired man. He had probably seen, or at least heard, everything that had happened.

Jocelyn took a deep breath and tilted her chin defiantly. She took up residence in a likely looking bush and sat down to wait for her prey. The man sat with her, keeping a sharp lookout on their surroundings. “My name is Colin Gunn,” he said, clearly expecting her to reveal her own. Even though he was not The MacGillivray, he could be acquainted with him.

“My name is Corrine,” she said, fidgeting as the lie left her mouth. As outrageous as her behavior usually was, she was an abysmal liar. She could only hope he didn’t question her obvious discomfort.

They sat for a little while in silence until a rabbit happened into their sight. She drew her bow expertly and cocked an arrow. She let the shaft fly with precision and struck the hare with perfect aim. Colin went over and picked up the rabbit before turning back to her, a look of admiration evident on his face. “It was a good shot, lass,” he said.

“Thank you,” she answered as Colin rejoined her in the bush.

“You have a good sword arm as well,” he said. “You protected yourself well.”

“For a lass, you mean,” Jocelyn answered a little bitterly.

“Nay,” Colin replied. “For anyone outnumbered.”

She nodded her thanks and looked at their prize. One small rabbit would not feed four strong, large men. She settled in, resigning herself to looking for another rabbit or two.

After a few moments Colin turned to look at her. “What were you doing out by yourself?” he asked.

Jocelyn considered her answer and decided to use as much truth as possible. That way it would be easier to keep track of what she’d told him. Choosing her words carefully she told him a watered down version of the truth. “I was on my way to the nunnery,” she said. “My parents do not approve of my decision so I took matters into my own hands.”

“The nunnery?” Colin said doubtfully. “Lass, I have no wish to call you a liar, but I saw what you did with him,” he said, blushing as he gestured vaguely toward the other men.

Jocelyn felt the heat crawling up her neck toward her cheeks and cleared her throat. “Aye, well, I am not dead, am I?” she snapped.

His blush deepened, and he nodded briskly. They sat in awkward silence as another hare came into view.

* * * *

The smell of roasting meat slowly woke Robbie. A small groan of disappointment slipped from his lips as he attempted to hide the rock-hard proof of his desire.

His mind drifted to the very vivid dream he had been having. Sprawled out on a soft bed of springy grass, he and the lass had been kissing and cuddling. His arousal had caught her attention, and she had cupped him in her palm, wrapping her delicate fingers around him and fondling him curiously.

Robbie pulled the blanket aside and glanced down. His kilt was bunched up at his waist and he had a dry pool of semen on the material covering his chest and belly. The vision had been so real he had come in his sleep, something he hadn’t done since he was a youth. Now he had to figure out a way to sneak down to the stream to wash off the evidence of his orgasm.

He had lain awake for a long while the night before, searching his mind for possible explanations for the girl’s behavior. What could have possibly been so horrid about her life at home she would risk wandering about in the dead of night without an escort? A cruel husband, perhaps? Her curvy backside and full breasts had assured him she was of marrying age. Indeed, if that delicious little bundle were his, he would be thanking the good Lord daily for his gift.

Shifting on the ground uncomfortably, Robbie willed his latest erection to disappear, throwing one arm over his head and draping the other across his stomach. God, he hated mornings. He would gladly sleep till the nooning if given the chance. What he wouldn’t do to go back to sleep and try to recapture the sweet dream of the lass. His eyes were just fluttering closed when a shadow fell over him. Knowing it was useless to ignore the interloper, he opened one eye and stared malevolently at his youngest brother. “What?” he growled.

Jamie grinned, knowing his eldest brother’s intense dislike for early mornings, and dropped to sit next to him. “Come and break your fast,” he offered good-naturedly.

The scent of roasting meat wafted over Robbie again, and his belly growled. Thankful he didn’t have to make do with the stale oatcakes crumbling at the bottom of his saddlebag, he ground his palms into his eyes and stretched, arching his stiff back before sitting up. “Whom should I thank for hunting?” he grunted.

“The lass,” Jamie answered, gesturing with a quick jerk of his head to where she stood.

Robbie shot to his feet and glared down at his brother. The idea that the lass had been wandering around alone, again, enraged him. Did they not know the risks to someone as delicate as her? With the target of his ire out of his reach, he turned his rage on his brother. “Did Colin fall asleep on his watch?” he shouted, grabbing the younger man by the scruff of his neck and dragging him to his feet. “How could he let such a wee lass wander off by herself?”

“Fuck, Robbie, get off me!” Jamie shot back, shaking his hand off his neck. “He said he pretended to be asleep as she woke up. He did not think she would want him watching as you forced her to fondle you. Not that she seemed to mind, as he put it,” he finished, grinning at Robbie’s groan of embarrassment.

Blood rushed to his cheeks at his brother’s smirk. Obviously his dream hadn’t been entirely in his imagination. Wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole, Robbie scrubbed his hands through his long black hair. God’s blood. What must the lass think of him now?

Jamie was suddenly speaking again. “According to Colin, after a time she got up, collected her bow and quiver, and went into the woods. He escorted her while she caught our breakfast. She is quite the shot apparently. And, she started the fire, skinned at least one of the hares, and made a spit all before the rest of us were awake,” he finished, looking awed.

Robbie was fairly awed by the lass himself. He wondered at the kind of man it would take to tame her. He would have to be firm or else she would walk all over him with those dainty feet of hers. He would also have to be patient, for she was sure to buck against any type of traditional female role. And he would have to be trusting, since she obviously valued her independence. To take away her independence would surely break her spirit, and that was one of the things he so admired about the lass. There weren’t many men out there who would be suitable husbands for this wild, beautiful angel. If his own bride were half as willful, he would have his hands full. Strange, though, how the thought of begetting heirs on Jocelyn MacKenna was looking less and less appealing the longer he knew this lass.

Robbie’s belly rumbled again, and he glanced toward the fire. Will and Colin were helping the lass remove what looked like rabbits from a makeshift spit. Apparently the meat was done. Yawning and rubbing his eyes irritably, he pulled on his tunic so it covered his kilt. It wasn’t the neatest of appearances but at least it covered the semen stains. He walked over to the fire, leaving Jamie to laugh at his embarrassment.

It was all well and good for Jamie, he thought sourly. The lad had a different woman every night, though to his credit, no lass had ever been invited to Jamie’s bed. Robbie, himself, had only found relief with his fist almost exclusively for nearly thirteen years now. He resigned himself to a day of aching need and followed his brother to the fire.

A short time later, Robbie was shifting uncomfortably as he sat next to the petite lass. Every fiber of his being, every nerve in his body was acutely aware of the woman seated at his side. Her soft voice slid across his skin like warm velvet, and her husky laugh sent shivers down his spine. The shirt she wore gaped slightly at the collar, reminding him of his brief but thorough view of her spectacular breasts. The sight of her shapely legs extending from beneath her kilt drew his thoughts to the idea of having those legs tightly around his hips. How could he have ever mistaken the woman for a lad?

The touch of her soft hand on his wrist as she offered him more meat combined with her nearness caused his body to harden impressively. He could not recall ever responding to a lass this enthusiastically, even as a randy lad. He reminded his body it had already had a release today then immediately ducked his head shamefully. He had indeed acted without honor, even if he hadn’t known what he was doing.

Will let out a deep, rattling cough, pounding his chest as gasped for breath. “Damn cough,” he muttered. “Cannot seem to get rid of it.”

The lass leaned across Robbie to see his brother better. He took the opportunity to breathe in her scent. Fresh, like mountain air and wildflowers. He’d never smelt anything so intoxicating in his life. “How long have you had the cough?” she asked Will.

“Near a week now,” he said. “I never had a fever, just this cough.”

She eyed Will speculatively. “Does your chest feel heavy?”

“Not really. It is more like I have a rattle I cannot get out.”

She got up and wandered around their campsite. Robbie caught his brother’s curious gaze and shrugged. He was certainly not the one to ask about female behavior.

She soon came back with a handful of leaves and set about boiling some water. Soon she handed Will a mug of a bitter smelling brew. “It will bring up anything in your lungs,” she explained, urging him to drink. “It will help your cough.”

Will saluted her with the mug and chugged the contents, sputtering and watery-eyed when he finished. She smiled with obvious approval. “It should only take a few hours to work,” she said, patting him on the arm.

Immediately Robbie felt his blood boil. He didn’t want her touching anyone. Well, anyone other than himself, he amended.

Jamie approached them speculatively. “Do you have any experience with festering wounds?” he asked as he showed her one of his fingers. It was festering and swollen. “I was hoping the splinter would just work its way out, but that does not seem to be the case.”

The girl shook her head and seized his hand. “Men,” she muttered as she poured hot water over the wound before proceeding to dig around in it with a pin she had heated in the fire. He gasped and tried to yank his hand from her grasp. “Christ, woman. That damn well hurts.”

She looked up at him dispassionately. “Stop acting like a mere babe,” she suggested blandly. “And do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Finally extracting the splinter, she poured more water over it and wrapped it with the cleanest linen they had. He cradled his hand to his chest, moaning and carrying on as if she had removed the entire finger instead of a splinter.

“Does anyone else have anything for me to treat?” she asked, rather sarcastically. “A boil that has been left to grow to the size of a fist, for example?”

Robbie laughed as his men sheepishly shook their heads. Granted, the lass’s sarcasm was warranted. Jamie really should have extracted the splinter before the wound became so infected. It was a dangerous thing, really. He could have lost his finger, or a lot more, if he had left it.

His heart raced as he watched the girl gather up the leftover meat and huff over to the horses. God, she was beautiful.

He shook his head when he felt a hard poke in his belly. “We can escort her, aye?” Will said.

Robbie blinked at his middle brother’s question. “What?” he asked, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Damn it, he had to clear his head of the distraction this lass caused.

Will grinned widely at him, cocking a brow in apparent amusement. “I said there is no reason we cannot escort this wee lass to the nunnery,” he repeated slowly, as if talking to a child.

Robbie’s heart leapt at the thought of spending more time with the mysterious woman. It would mean putting off his wedding to the as-yet-unknown Jocelyn MacKenna though.

He frowned when he realized how excited he was to put off his impending nuptials if it meant extending his time with the lass. He frowned harder when he grasped the idea that, once safely delivered to the nunnery, he would never see her again. Still, he couldn’t, in good conscious, allow her to continue traveling alone. “Aye,” he agreed. “It will cause a delay in our meeting. Will, continue on down the mountain and inform my intended’s family of our delay,” he ordered.

Grumbling good naturedly, Will stuffed one more piece of meat into his mouth before saddling his horse and riding off.

Robbie turned his attention to the lass, who was busily packing the extra meat into one of the saddlebags. The gentle sway of her hips was driving him mad with lust. He rose and walked up behind her, placing his hands over hers. “Do not worry about this, lass. You have done enough already. Let one of the men take care of the rest. We’ll escort you to the nunnery for your safety.”