Chapter Nine

Abby attacked him before he had a chance to get to his coat. She couldn’t let him think she was giving up. He was taking her lessons seriously. She was thankful for it and promised to hurt him if she could.

If she was being truthful, as she’d been taught to be, she didn’t want the practice to end. She doubted she’d ever forget how it felt to be crushed up against him, held in his arms while his desire for her flashed across his eyes.

He’d fought whatever it was he wanted to do and made certain she learned how to attack without getting caught. He showed her many effective defense moves and made her feel safer. Not because of what he could do, but because of what she would become able to do.

But a thought nagged at her while her lesson continued. What good would any of it do against him, should he try to have his way with her?

It would be a miracle if she ever managed to get his naked body out of her memory. Heaven help her, he was a masterpiece sculpted in lean, tight sinew, honed to perfection by years of battle. He’d glistened under the sun like some fire god come to haunt her dreams and mock any mortal man who dared enter. His hair gleamed like a crown beneath the sun in all the colors of autumn. His steady breath and unruffled regard attracted her in ways that made her ache somewhere deep in her groin. She wanted to ruffle him, to see him pant. Never had she felt this way before, so drawn to a man that if she didn’t stay focused she would end up smiling at him all day like a damned fool.

He was dangerous to his enemies, and she must not forget that her kin was his enemy.

“Drive your heel here.” His thick voice rolled over her ears while he motioned to his foot. “The hilt of your blade or your elbow here.” He pointed to his belly.

They practiced more defense and he let her strike him to make it feel more real to her. He reminded her of her promise.

The first time she rammed her elbow into his guts, she felt a twinge of guilt, but he barely doubled over. She might have thought he was carved in leather armor beneath his flowing shirt, but she knew he wore nothing underneath his damp clothes. This hardness was all him. And damn her to Hades, but he’d looked hard while she watched him leave the loch. She’d seen naked men before. Well, they were mostly half-naked, wrapped in nothing but belted plaids. Highlanders in summer. She’d never seen anyone who looked like Daniel Marlow. He was built like one of her grandsire’s prized horses. Strong, fast, almost regal.

“You’re not paying attention, Miss Campbell.” He slapped away her sword and clasped his fingers around her throat. “What will you do now?” he asked her, tightening his grip and cutting off her air. She couldn’t panic. She had to think. If this were really happening, her attacker wouldn’t show her mercy.

She did the thing she’d been taught to do since she was a little girl. She pulled back her leg and drove her knee straight into his groin.

He almost blocked the blow but he must not have expected her to do it, even though it was his suggestion. He went down like a lightning-blasted tree, clutching himself and squeezing his eyes shut.

No! She felt awful! “General, fergive me!” She bent to her knees beside him and bit her lip when he writhed on the ground.

Should she run? For a moment, she panicked, not knowing what to do. What did she know of the man lying on his side, helpless because of her? Nothing but that he killed Jacobites. Would he strike her? She didn’t run, but clutched the hilt of her sword tighter and prepared to defend herself against him.

“ ’Twas yer idea to—”

He held up his palm to stop her. “No.” He groaned and tried to sit up. “You did the perfect thing. As you can see, I’m debilitated enough for you to finish me.”

She smiled at him, grateful for his kind response. “Still,” she said, touching her fingers to his arm. He glanced down at her touch. “Fergive me for causing ye such pain. If ’tis any consolation, ’twas a verra’ good lesson.”

Honestly, how was she not supposed to like him when he set those large, piercing eyes on her? He might hate Jacobites, but when he spread his wide, dashing grin on her, she wasn’t sure he hated her.

Or perhaps she didn’t want to believe he did.

“Ye have a verra’ handsome smile, General.”

“I’m glad to see it has returned.”

If she had more courage, she would lean over and kiss him. Aye, she looked at the sensuous curve of his lips and wondered how they would feel molded to hers.

She looked away from him, trying to pull herself together. What in blazes was wrong with her? She’d been attracted to men before. None of them had ever made her feel so helpless against her own emotions. It frightened her. She had to use more caution, be more aware of his effect on her and guard against it more efficiently. She could never trust him with her mother’s secret, and because of that, there could never be anything between them.

As if sensing her mood, he moved away from her and rose slowly to his feet.

“We’ll resume tonight.”

“In the dark?” she asked him while he pulled his boot over his foot.

“Yes. Don’t be afraid,” he commanded, pulling on his other boot. “I won’t hurt you, nor will you hurt me again.”

It wasn’t that. Her trust in him was growing. She didn’t doubt what he said. She wasn’t afraid of his hurting her.

“What if it reminds me of what happened last night?” she asked him honestly. Hell, she hated herself for letting it worry her, but it did. “What if I remember how afraid I was and I canna’ move?”

He stopped securing his belt to his waist and turned to look at her. His lids appeared heavy as his gaze on her softened. “You should remember and not hide from your fears. But remember this also.” He moved closer to her on his way to retrieve his sword. “It will be me with you, not them.”

“All right.” She smiled as he passed her, feeling better. If he thought she could do it, then she would. “General?”

“Yes?”

“Will ye no’ change yer mind aboot me having a quick rinse? Like ye, I feel grimy. Please, my lord,” she added quickly when he looked unsure. “I will be but a moment.”

He ground his jaw. “Very well. But be quick.”

She nodded and then waited until he turned his back on her. “Is it verra’ cold?”

She heard him swear under his breath before he answered her. “Yes, Miss Campbell, it’s cold.”

Heavens, but he was irritable, she thought, untying the laces of her kirtle. “I dinna’ like it when ye call me Miss Campbell,” she called out. “I’m a MacGregor and proud to be one. We are alone. Ye can speak my true name.”

“MacGregors are proscribed,” he reminded her. “And if we fall out of habit, it could bring you trouble.”

He was correct. She couldn’t argue. She could curse him, though, for not letting her take a few more of her bags. Thanks to him, she didn’t have a change of dress, save for the gown she would wear when she met the queen.

She peeked a glance over her shoulder to make certain he wasn’t looking before she slipped out of her earasaid, then her kirtle, and finally the shift underneath. She waded into the water and disappeared in its depths. The cold was shocking to her flesh but she was used to it after swimming in the lochs around Camlochlin. She came up and set her eyes on him where he stood with his back to her.

He was a knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. Thanks to her grandmother’s lessons, Abby knew all about knights. The Most Noble Order of the Garter was the highest order of chivalry and the most prestigious honor in Great Britain. What had he done to earn such a title? Why did he have to be a slayer of her people? What was between him and Anne? There was definitely something. Every time they spoke of her he wore an almost pained expression. He loved the queen. Even more reason never to trust him.

What if he weren’t her enemy?

Abby tread water and examined the flare of the knight’s shoulders, his muscular thighs, and the snug fit of his breeches.

“Why are ye dressed like a commoner instead of a solider or a nobleman?”

“My uniform would draw attention to you and make men more curious. There are only four of us and while I’ve no doubt we could take on a small army, I’d prefer not to have to prove it in every town or village we enter.”

Confident, wasn’t he.

“Finer garments—and six bags tied to our horses—would also attract unwanted attention,” he told her as if he could read her previous thoughts about her clothes. His decision to leave her bags behind was the right one.

She smiled behind him, grateful to him for considering her safety even before he’d promised it to her father.

She scrubbed quickly and swam to the edge. “I’m leaving the water.”

He shifted on his feet and balled one hand into a loose fist at his side.

She reached her clothes and dressed in a hurry. “Thank ye fer not looking,” she said, reaching him, fully dressed.

“There’s no need to thank me for that,” he grumbled. “Can we go now?”

She nodded. “Should I ride with you again tonight or can I be trusted on my own steed?”

“Your own steed.” He reached for his long coat, slung it over his shoulder, and began walking.

She followed, keeping a steady pace at his side. She realized he was walking slower deliberately so that she didn’t have to rush to keep up.

She glanced up at his profile a number of times while they walked in silence. She lived among many handsome men, but none were more beautiful than him. His strong, unbroken nose added to his perfection. His chin and jaw were defiant, confident, and shadowed in glistening golds and fiery reds.

On the way back to camp she pondered how his mind worked. Last night while they stayed awake together, she’d shared intimate details of her life with him. He’d listened and hadn’t told her she was a fool to want to be chief. They’d shared space and laughter and this morning he kept her from falling off her horse when she fell asleep and let her sleep in his arms. Blazes, he smiled at her like he might actually be fond of her even after she kicked him between the legs.

And then whatever they shared was gone. She knew why she had turned from him. She was afraid. Who in her right mind would want to fall in love with her enemy? He had turned away from her also. Was he afraid as well?

She thought about it for a moment longer, remembering how well he fought against her kinsmen.

What the hell could frighten him?