The Highlander's Bride Trouble (12 page)

“No… No!”

Abigail cried, but no one paid her any attention. When they ignored her, she closed
her mouth and looked confused.

Nareen couldn’t help but pity her. She was a creation of her father’s lack of self-discipline.
Coddling her when she was a child had brought her to where she was. Maybe she would
be better off when this was over.

Nareen only wished she might feel the same for her own fate.

But Saer stopped by her mare, looking up at her with a glitter of victory in his eyes.
There was something else, too, and it sent a shiver down her spine. When she looked
away, he boldly cupped her knee to bring her attention back to his face.

“I promised ye, Nareen, when ye run, I will follow.”

His tone was low and edged with a promise. Excitement began to pulse inside her passage,
the memory of the pleasure he’d delivered to her making her hungry for more of his
touch.

“I should thank ye…for coming to me aid.” She locked gazes with him and felt like
he was seeing her thoughts. “But the truth is, I do nae want to.”

He threw back his head and laughed. When he finished, he looked back into her eyes.
“Ye’re a spitfire, and it pleases me that ye are nae a liar.”

“Ye may no’ always be so pleased with me spirit. Think on that before ye insist on
taking me to yer land. I will nae obey ye or any man. Why do ye think I do nae seek
marriage?”

His lips pressed into a hard line. “Trust takes time. Ye’ll wed me once ye trust me.”

She shook her head, but he moved past her to his stallion, mounting the creature in
one powerful motion. His kilt swished with his actions, flashing her a brief glance
at the perfection of his thighs and backside.

Every inch of him was hard, and she liked it far too much. Like some dark need that
lived deep inside her. It stunned her with its intensity.

Saer lifted his hand, and his men rode out on his order. They swept her up in their
columns, moving her away from Bastian MacKay.

She just wished she didn’t feel such a dread for what was to come. Saer was a good
man, and she knew without a doubt she was going to have to disappoint him.

That fact gave her no happiness at all.

***

Before the moon hit its highest point, Baruch insisted, “The horses need rest.”

“Aye,” Saer agreed. “Even if it’s the last thing I want to do.”

He yearned for his own land. But he headed toward a forested area, guiding his horse
into the tree line to gain cover.

“Only until dawn.”

The men near him nodded. It wasn’t a submissive acknowledgment of his order; it was
more of an agreement. He preferred his lairdship to be one of mutual respect, and
his men knew he’d never ask them to do something he would not himself do.

“Yer lass is wandering again,” Baruch informed him.

Saer looked up to catch the last hint of Nareen’s arisaid as she made her way away
from his men.

“I’ll see to her. Set a watch and make sure everyone gets some rest.”

“Aye, Laird.”

Saer hurried through rubbing his horse down, but the animal was more interested in
resting, turning away before Saer had finished. He offered him a last pat before indulging
his personal desire to follow Nareen.

***

She heard him approaching.

There was a soft crack of dry leaves, nothing else. She was tense, and her senses
were heightened. She would have sworn she felt Saer closing the distance between them.

It had to be a curse, the way she felt him.

“So ye’ve run me down.” She forced the words past her lips. “What do ye expect I am
doing after so long in the saddle? I needed a moment of privacy.”

He’d planted his feet in a wide stance and crossed his arms over his chest. His hands
rested on his forearms as he contemplated her.

“Would ye have preferred Bastian in yer bed?”

She stiffened, the MacKay laird’s declaration still ringing in her ears, but what
really held her attention was the tension on Saer’s face.

“No. I meant what I said, Saer, I will nae wed, because I have no wish to see ye looking
at me with anger when I cannae settle into the role of a wife. Ye need to listen to
me. I know me mind. What amuses ye now, will irritate ye in the future.”

He reached up and tapped the side of his face that was blackened from one of Bastian’s
fists.

“Ye owe me thanks for freeing ye.”

It was too dark to judge his expression, but she moved closer, trying to get a good
look into his eyes. All she gained was a tightening in her belly as she neared him.
Once more, she was keenly aware of him.

“I do.” He confused her, distorting the logical decisions she’d made and leaving her
questioning her reasoning.

“Does the idea of being with me truly frighten ye so much that ye would leave without
protection?”

There was tightly controlled rage in his tone, and it shamed her, but her pride flared
up. “Ye unsettle me.” She backed away from him. “Which is different than frighten,
I’ll have ye know. But when ye are near, me thoughts become muddled.”

He grunted softly in response.

“I wouldn’t expect ye to understand,” she sighed. “For I do nae understand the effect
ye have on me.”

He uncrossed his arms and crooked his finger. “Come here.”

She shook her head.

“Ye enjoy me touch.” He stepped toward her, and she retreated.

“A light skirt does as well, so I’ve been told. It does nae mean she enjoys the position
of being used.”

“I will nae be using ye, Nareen.”

He came closer, his strides longer than hers, making it a challenge for her to maintain
the distance between them.

“And yet ye have already begun to make it clear what yer demands are. Sons. That’s
what ye want of me.”

He stopped, tilting his head to one side. “Do ye nae care for children?”

“I—” She snapped her mouth shut when she realized she was back to arguing just for
the sake of fighting with him. “Like them well enough.”

“Then there is no difficulty.”

“No…there is,” she said with hesitation.

He reached out and caught a handful of her skirt, jerking her to a halt. Excitement
rippled across her skin as she trembled.

“Is what, lass? Ye want to tell me no, and naught but no.” He leaned down until she
felt his warm breath teasing her ear. “No matter how much sense I am making?”

She locked gazes with him, but in the dark his eyes were only glassy pools. “It is
nae about making sense. ’Tis how I feel. Until ye are close, and then…naught makes
sense.” She flattened her hand on his chest. A feeble attempt to ward him off, but
she used a gentle touch, hoping to touch the tender part of his character. “Ye must
find another, Saer.”

His eyes narrowed, and his lips softened. “The sound of me name on yer lips is sweet,
lass.”

She sighed. “Ye are nae listening, and I truly do nae want to be a harpy.”

“At last, agreement between us.” He reached out and closed his hand around her wrist.
“I do nae care for the slicing side of yer tongue either.”

“Liar.” She could have bitten her tongue in half for letting the word out.

Saer had begun tugging her through the trees, but he stopped and turned to look at
her.

“Ye thrive on challenge,” she said. “If I were meek and sweetly obedient to yer will,
ye’d nae be anywhere near me.”

He grinned. “And that is exactly why I am here, Nareen. Ye understand me.”

“Ye’re arrogant…”

But he resumed pulling her along behind him. The sound of moving water increased until
he tugged her through a few last trees to the edge of a stream.

“I’ve earned it,” he informed her confidently as he sat down on a large rock. “I have
nothing I have nae earned or proven meself able to hold. Including ye.”

The memory of the fight rose up in vivid color, twisting her insides again.

“Ye should nae have had to fight for me.”

He reached into his doublet and pulled out a length of fabric. “Life is nae fair,
Nareen. Ye should have stayed in the Ross fortress, but ye did nae.”

“It was foolish, I know.”

He nodded approvingly at her admission.

“Tend to me.”

She wasn’t sure of his meaning. He offered her the length of fabric. There was something
not quite right about the way he remained perched on the rock.

“Ye’re trying to lull me into a sense of ease,” she said.

One of his eyebrows arched. “I’m asking ye to tend to the bruises I endured to keep
ye from becoming Bastian MacKay’s prize.”

She owed it to him. But reaching for that cloth took more effort than it should have.
She stepped closer to him, her heart accelerated, and she was conscious of how extremely
sensitive her skin felt. She bent her knees and plunged the cloth into the water.
It was cold and refreshing, carrying the dust away from her fingers. She squeezed
the excess water out of the cloth and stood up.

Her mouth went dry as she managed to step forward. Power radiated from him, wrapping
around her when she was standing close enough to touch him.

But he waited. Waited for her to reach for him.

Her hand trembled when she did, and her breath felt like it was frozen in her lungs.

“Is it so hard to touch me, lass?”

His voice was a soft whisper mingling with the breeze that rustled the leaves on the
trees around them. It was like he was part of the night, reaching out to fold her
into an embrace that would take her beyond reality.

“Ye unsettle me.”

She knelt down to rinse the cloth, shuddering at the temperature difference between
the water and his skin. When she stood back up and smoothed the cloth along his jaw,
he caught her wrist and carried her hand to his chest, where he pressed it over his
heart.

“Ye do the same to me.”

The cloth pressed water into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. She felt the steady
beat of his heart and realized it matched the tempo of her own.

“This cannae be right,” she whispered, but her fingers smoothed over the wet patch
of shirt that separated her skin from his.

“What is wrong with taking the enjoyment we can when it is before us?” He stood up,
abandoning his relaxed demeanor. She felt the change instantly. The power she’d noticed
so often in him washed over her in a wave that went all the way down to her toes.

“I crave ye, Nareen.” He slid his arm around her, cupping her hip and easing forward
to press against her. “And ye are nae unmoved by me. I feel ye trembling.”

“But—”

He sealed her protest beneath his lips, pressing his mouth over hers as she shuddered.
This time, it was even more intense, the cravings inside of her jumping at the opportunity
to be appeased. She reached for him, slipping her hand into his hair and gripping
the inky strands. Hunger flared up inside her, and she kissed him back, seeking a
deeper taste of him. She wasn’t close enough, wasn’t kissing him hard enough.

Saer groaned, and she felt him changing. It was as if his control had shredded. His
kiss turned fierce, demanding she open her mouth and allow his tongue to sweep inside.
It was an invasion, an act of domination that thrilled her so much she moaned. He
cupped the back of her head and smoothed his hand away from her hip to grip one side
of her bottom. Her bud was throbbing between the folds of her sex, begging for her
to lift her leg and lock it around his waist.

But he suddenly set her back.

It felt like she was ripped away from him, and frustration prickled along her nerve
endings.

“Nae here,” he growled, but she wasn’t sure if he was telling her or himself. His
breath was ragged, and his nostrils flared. He pointed one thick finger at her. “Nae
here.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, the certainty of just how much he affected her
ripping through her. She had no control, no ability to think once he touched her.
It was undermining her confidence.

“I’ll have ye in me bed, on me land. No’ on the ground like a savage.” He was on the
edge; she could hear it in his voice. It fanned the flames of recklessness licking
at her insides.

“Go back to camp, Nareen, before I forget what I know ye deserve from me in favor
of what I see ye craving in yer eyes. But do nae forget that it would serve me to
see the matter settled here. I’ll earn yer trust, lass.”

She turned and made her way back to his camp. At least the darkness hid the tears
glistening in her eyes. Tears she’d sworn never to shed again. But they eased from
the corners of her eyes anyway.

Cruel little droplets of proof that she was helpless against Saer MacLeod.

There was nothing she detested more.

Which was why she had to escape him before he grew to detest her.

***

Saer woke them before dawn.

Nareen rolled over and rubbed her eyes. They were burning from the salt her tears
had left behind. The MacLeod retainers were efficient as they readied their horses.
They were all well on their way before the horizon turned pink.

They ate oatcakes that had been stored in leather pouches. Some had dried fruits mixed
in to make them sweet. Water was always plentiful in the Highlands, and the farther
north they traveled, the more streams they had to cross. By dusk, Ross land was far
behind, and they were well into MacNicols territory. Nareen breathed a sigh of relief
when they stopped for the night and made camp.

Nareen’s cheeks heated with shame as she admitted to herself that she didn’t have
the willpower to resist Saer. She was drawn to him.

At least out in the open, she didn’t have to worry about being alone with him someplace
where her passion might overrule her senses. In fact, by the end of the day, she was
very, very sure she needed to make certain she was never alone with him again.

She knew what she wanted from life, and it was not to be a wife. In no way might she
reconcile herself to obedience. Saer MacLeod was master of his clan and would certainly
expect to be the same over his wife.