Darra felt a delicious warmth against her cheek, and she wondered whether she was dreaming. Coming slowly into consciousness, she heard the birds twittering overhead. Her fingertips skimmed over smooth skin and hard muscle. Right beneath her ear, she heard a solid, rhythmic heart beating…
Hard muscle? Heart beating?
The questions crashed through her mind like a battering ram at the gates. She jerked back her hand, and became even more alarmed to find herself cradled against Rory’s taut, masculine torso. Her first impulse was to leap off his lap, but then she glanced down and discovered that she was nude. Images from last night flooded her mind. So it wasn’t a dream after all; she really had made love with Rory.
But the pleasant memory soon changed into something more worrisome. Now that it was morning, she was confronted with the cold, hard truth that she was no longer a virgin. She blinked at this startling fact. Her innocence was lost the moment she decided to kiss Rory. But now that she experienced how raw, primal love felt, she desired more — even though this was supposed to be a one-time occurrence. She released a shuddering sigh.
“Ye are awake,” Rory’s deep voice penetrated her thoughts.
“Oh,” she tipped her head back. His expression was impassive, as if he wasn’t fazed that a naked woman slept in his arms. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“Nay, all parts of me are definitely awake,” he said, a sudden mischievous gleam reflecting in his eyes.
A part of him was definitely poking at her hip. She felt fire rush to her face just as a sharp tingle coursed through her, and thrummed between her legs. She came off his lap, found her chemise and quickly put it on.
Spinning around to face him, she declared, “Last night was a mistake.” But the real mistake was to look at him. In the gray light, she was able to see him in all his glory. He remained sitting, a mildly amused expression on his visage. As she wondered at his amusement, a small movement from his hand caught her attention, drawing her scrutiny downward.
Her breath caught in her windpipe.
With one hand, he gripped his magnificent cock, stroking its thick length while he watched her with hooded eyes.
“’Twas a mistake,” she said again, tearing her gaze away from his obvious male pleasure, and ignoring the intense flames that blazed through her system. She released a shaky breath. These unwelcome feelings made her feel unsettled and confused. As soon as she finished healing Eanruing MacGregon, she would go back to England, and forget about all the curious sensations that Rory roused in her. It was foolish to develop any attachment to this man. She tasted passion once, and it should be enough, shouldn’t it?
Rory stood and stretched, his muscles rippling as he moved. He made a striking figure clothed in his great kilt, but standing naked, he was spectacular, breathtaking. He appeared unconscious or unconcerned about his male beauty, and the fact that he bore a raging cockstand.
“If ye are keen,” he grinned. “I’m willing to make another mistake.”
At his words, the heat in her cheeks burned even more. She found her kirtle and quickly dressed. When she turned back to him, she was relieved that he had donned his leine. Still, she didn’t feel safe staring at his lithe and powerful form, since underneath that shirt, she knew that he was stark naked.
“We should leave,” she said awkwardly.
He chuckled as if he could read her thoughts. Taking the plaid that was draped over his arm, he arranged it on the ground.
She averted her face, but she still saw him in her peripheral vision. With practiced hands, he pleated the material before laying it on the ground and belted it around his narrow hips. As he stood up, he slung the excess fabric over one broad shoulder and secured it into place with a wide brooch.
“Thank you for saving me from that knight,” she said, relieved that he was now fully dressed.
“Ye wouldnae have required saving if ye had stayed asleep,” he said, attaching his sporran onto his belt and then looping his sword belt across his chest. “Next time ye may nae be as fortunate.”
A tremor rolled over her. She knew that he spoke the truth. Before this incident, she was ready and willing to escape from him and his brothers. However she began to recognize that it was less perilous to remain with the Highlanders. If she had gotten to the cavalry, and the army turned out to be as dishonorable and uncaring as the drunken knight, then her fate would have been wretched indeed.
“We should get to your father as soon as possible,” she said.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “So ye will hold true tae your promise, and willnae longer run off again?”
“Aye,” she said. “I will heal your father, and once I am finished, you can escort me home.”
“I can agree tae that,” he said. “Let’s go then. The English cavalry will be awake and active soon. I would loathe tae run into them, ye ken.”
She nodded and surveyed the dense forest that encompassed her.
“How will we find the others?” she asked.
“We go this way,” Rory said.
“But how do you know which route to take?” she asked. “I thought we were lost last night.”
He stopped and crouched down to pick up a broken twig. “Ye made more noise than the Shellycoat and his rattling shells. And ye left an easy trail tae follow.” He tossed the stick into the bushes. “We’ll just need tae find your tracks again, and find our way back tae camp.” Her eyes widened as if he had just revealed the ancient secrets of the forest. He shrugged. “’Tis much easier tae see your tracks in the morning light.” He swept the area where they slept with his foot, tossing up the dirt and erasing all evidence of their stay. “Now nay one will ken that we were here. This way, lass.”
Rory stepped forward, not bothering to look behind him, since he fully expected her to follow.
The dawning light broke through the trees, and the forest was alive with the clamor of foraging animals.
“How much further do we have to go?” she asked, panting while trying to keep up with him.
He didn’t answer her. Obviously she didn’t realize how much ground that she covered when she raced away from their campsite. Danger lurked here, and they needed to get back to the site before they were discovered.
They traveled for at least an hour before he slowed his pace. He sensed that they were close to the site, and was also aware of Darra’s tiredness.
Soon enough the campsite came into view. At first, he felt relief at seeing the familiar tree that marked their spot, but in the next moment he was overcome with a niggling sense that something was wrong.
Searching behind him, he observed that the area that they emerged from was still encased in darkness. Under normal circumstances, the noisy chatter of birds would be rampant at this time. But the forest was strangely silent.
A breeze caught at his hair as he surveyed the empty space. If he didn’t know any better, he would never have believed that this area was used as a refuge. In fact the only sign of human habitation was the stone cooking surface that lay on the ground; there was no trace of the men or their horses. A sudden anger surged to his chest, although it wasn’t directed at anyone but himself. Had he inadvertently brought the enemy to his unsuspecting brothers? And if the bastards took them, were they now being beaten and tortured?
Darra, not realizing that he had stopped, bumped into his back.
“What is the matter?” she asked, grabbing onto his arm as she found her balance.
“They’re gone,” he said, through clenched teeth. He reached behind him and withdrew his claymore.
“Who —?” she started to ask, and stopped when she saw the sword in his hands. Her jaw dropped open. “Do you think the royal cavalry has come upon them?” she whispered. Her face had gone pale, as if she believed that she was to blame for his brothers’ disappearance.
“I dinnae ken,” he said, unable to keep the vexation from his voice. “If the knights found my brothers, they’ll nae give them mercy. And if they’re nae killed on the spot, they’ll be taken tae the English court tae be hanged as traitors.” His tone turned bitter. “Anyone who opposes your King Harold is a traitor, ye ken.”
Rory gave the area another sweeping glance, his shoulders rigid with tension. His father had to wait. His priority now was to find his brothers, and free them from the enemies.
Bending down to the forest floor, he searched for clues. He would have to scour the site thoroughly in order to determine which direction to take. Fortunately he could trust Griogair to leave some sort of trail for him to follow.
“Rory,” Darra said nervously. “I think I heard something.”
He shook his head, not wanting the distraction. He had to concentrate. But then his head shot up when he heard a soft, whispery movement in the bushes. Tilting his head, he tried to listen for the sound again. And there it was. But this time the noise was followed immediately by the unmistakable nicker of a horse.
Reaching over, he pulled Darra behind him, shielding her from whoever was approaching.
Dropping into a fighting stance, he held his claymore in front of him, his gaze fixed intently at the spot where he heard the noise.
Unexpectedly Duncan’s familiar form atop a horse emerged from the thicket. A second later, Griogair rode in with Rory’s horse in tow.
Rory hissed and lowered his sword.
“Where the hell were ye two?” he growled.
Duncan urged his horse forward, eying the sword. “A better question would be: where the hell were ye? We woke up, and the two of ye were gone. I thought perhaps the English had taken ye.”
“Aye,” Griogair said, joining in. “That was the thought that went through my mind as well. We went tae higher ground tae see if we could spot ye. And when we didnae see ye, we circled back here.”
“We’re safe for now,” Rory said, sliding his claymore back into its sheath. He lifted Darra onto his horse’s back before mounting behind her. “Let’s be gone from this place.”