Simon was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hang upside down as he rode the horse behind his fearless leader. Yeah, way to go winning the woman’s confidence. They’d taken the train yesterday morning to Aviemore. Today, she’d dropped the bomb on him that they’d be riding the rest of the way, since the terrain wasn’t suitable for cars.
“Uh, Grace?”
She tugged on the reins, bringing her own horse to a gentle stop. She didn’t laugh at him, but her lips twitched. “What are you doing?”
Dizzy from all the blood rushing to his head, he glanced at the ground. “I’m falling off my horse.”
“You said you knew how to ride.”
“I told you I’d always wanted to ride.”
Huffing, she slid off her horse with no trouble. He curled up to wrestle with the reins trapping his ankle. The animal nickered at him and shuffled its legs.
After she wrapped her reins around a nearby tree limb, she marched toward him. “Stop moving.”
Grace knelt beside him. As she struggled with it, the cord around his ankle tightened. “What are you doing to me?”
“I’m trying to free you, but you’ve got to stop trying to help.” The blood flow to his foot would have been cut off…if it all hadn’t drifted to his head anyway. The scene before his eyes shook. More moments passed as her fingers worked at the reins. He smiled when she mumbled swear words.
Once the cords loosened, her grip softened. “You might want to put your hands on the ground so you don’t fall on your head.”
Still hanging from the horse, he did as she instructed seconds before she freed his trapped limb. He slammed into the ground. A couple of tree twigs jammed into his arms while he protected his head. The blood gushing back into his leg set off a shitload of needle pricks. The trees surrounding them still swayed. He blinked and readjusted his glasses. As he pushed himself to his feet, Grace swung up into her saddle. She pointed to his horse wandering away. “You might want to grab the reins so you don’t lose her. It’s a long walk to the bed and breakfast.”
Great. Rescued by a girl. No humiliation there. He attempted to step into the stirrup and swing his leg over the horse. Twice. She continued along the path, leaving him to fend for himself. In truth, he couldn’t decide whether to be happy or annoyed. Heat once again flooded his face.
At the fourth try, with several sweet words whispered to his moody horse, he got on and caught up to his reluctant partner.
When Simon’s horse neared, Grace rolled her eyes. If she had to work with someone, why couldn’t it be a sexy, strong, kilt-wearing hunk? Instead, she’d been cursed with the world’s least-likely treasure hunter.
She glanced behind her to make sure he wasn’t dangling off his horse again. Nope. This time he sat a bit more comfortably, face alight with a contagious grin. Okay, yes, he was cute in his own way, adorable like an innocent child discovering a new toy. But she needed someone rugged, tough, ready to slay dragons with her.
For a few more minutes, she wove a trail through the trees. After pulling the map from her pocket, she tugged on the reins so she could study the graphics and the scene before her. The layout matched. Sort of. She slid from her horse and secured the beast to a nearby tree. “We’re here.”
One foot in the stirrup, Simon struggled to get down without falling over. Thank God he had his back to her. She wasn’t sure how, but she managed to keep from laughing. He spun around with his arms held wide. “How’d I do?”
“I wouldn’t sign up for any races, if I were you.” She yanked her backpack free then started through the denser set of trees.
Within seconds, he joined her along the narrower path, holding his copy of the map. “Says here we’re on the MacPherson clan’s property. Don’t we need approval or something?”
“Asking for permission was only important in the old days when clans ruled their own parcels of land throughout Scotland.” She reached for the limb above her head to steady herself as her feet hit a rock-ridden path. “It’s not like anyone’s going to shoot at us for being here. If they do, we’ll just tell them you got us lost.”
“Very funny.” His gaze shifted across the trees. “But if someone’s shooting at us, you can bet I won’t be hanging around to talk to them.”
They continued in silence for a good mile. Dark clouds crowded in the distance, but no rain had fallen yet. Earthy scents swirled around them. She stopped short.
Simon bumped into her then set his hands on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Listen.” The sounds of a babbling brook nearby were easier to detect now that their footsteps no longer crunched along the leaf-littered forest floor. Grace held up the map and pointed out the path they’d taken so far. “Here’s where we started. This is where we are now.”
He inched closer, his chin all but resting on her shoulder. “So, if we keep going, we should come to the stream, right?”
“Which will take us exactly where we want to be.”
“What are we waiting for?” He stepped past her and ducked under the tree limb.
Oh, no way would she start following him. “Wait up.”
“Right. You need to be in charge, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She walked backward ahead of him, a smile twitching her lips.
“Grace!” He reached out to her just as her heels slammed into something hard. Her feet slipped out from under her. Stumbling over a big-ass boulder, she fell, slamming her shoulder hard against the ground. Pain shot down her arm, up her neck. Closing her eyes, she rolled flat onto her backside. Twigs dug into her skin. Wet leaves covered her limbs.
When she opened her eyes, he stood with one foot on the boulder she’d tripped over and his forearms resting on his knees. “Are you all right?” A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest.
Her cheeks heated. No, she’d just made a fool of herself. Um, what had happened to her being the expert?
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “I’m fine.”
Still laughing, he reached out to her. “Will you take my help?”
For a few seconds, she debated. But in the few days she’d known Simon Andrews, he’d been nothing but a gentleman.
Just wait. Most of the men in the business didn’t give her the time of day, arguing she couldn’t be as good a hunter as they were.
She would ignore the demons whispering in her brain. When she slid her hand into his, he pulled her up. Needing to steady herself, she reached out to his arms. Beneath her fingers were muscles she hadn’t noticed before. Thick ones, well hidden underneath his shirt.
“You didn’t hit your noggin, did you?” His palm drifted over the back of her head.
Shivers rushed through her, having everything to do with the feel of him surrounding her. Pulling away, she locked gazes with him, the shocking blue depths of his eyes shining through his glasses. She glanced at his lips. How would they feel against her own?
A crack of thunder returned her brain to reality.
Whoa. She released her hold on his arms and stepped away. “I’m fine.” Please don’t say anything.
Simon looked up at the even darker sky then repositioned his backpack. “We should go.”
Grace released a slow breath. How long had it been since she’d been affected by a man? She shook her head. Ridiculous. He’s my babysitter.
Simon hurried toward the stream. Anything to get away from the intensity in Grace’s green eyes. What was that all about? Her delicate hands on his arms and his fingers sifting through the soft strands of her hair had stirred much more than his protective instincts.
The trees opened onto a field of deep green grass, a bush of Scottish thistle, and the burbling sounds of the freshwater stream they’d been searching for. The scenery reminded him of an oil painting he’d seen in a downtown Boston museum—even with the slight nuisance of the raindrops.
“This is it.” She shoved past him, heading toward the gigantic tree trunk on the opposite side of the stream. Leaning over, she patted the soil at the base of a tree. “The hideaway to the treasure should be right around here.”
When he stepped on a layer of dead leaves on the other side of the stream, he paused to look around. A handful of trees towered over them, their trunks varying in thickness. Raindrops streaked his glasses, blurring his vision. The sky darkened even more.
“Maybe we should leave. Try this again in the morning.”
“You’re not afraid of getting wet, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m just worried about you.” The scent of wet soil drifted up to his nose.
“Well, have no fear. I can handle a little bad weather.”
He had no doubt she could handle much more. She wanted everyone to think she was tough as nails, figuratively and physically. But he’d be willing to bet she had a softer side, too. One he’d glimpsed a short time ago. Before the crack of thunder. Before they’d almost kissed.
Removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, he tried to rub the image of her from his vision.
“Give me a hand.” She waved him over. “See if you can find a secret latch on this tree.”
“A what?”
“Legend has it there should be a magic door to the box’s hiding place.”
All that lay before him was a bunch of gnarled tree roots and ankle-high grass. “I suppose it’s well guarded by a bunch of fairies and leprechauns, too.”
“No, those are in Ireland.” She guided his hands to the base of the tree. “Come on. Get working. Try the other side of this trunk, too.”
Skepticism lodged right in the center of his chest, but he still felt around its base. His fingers sank into the moist dirt in his search for a magic lever to open a door to a new world. Her theory sparked doubts in Mr. Gray’s story and Grace’s professional abilities. “There’s nothing here.”
“This can’t be.” Sitting on her haunches, she rubbed at the fat drops streaming down her forehead. She checked the map again. Rain splattered the paper with a distinctive plop, plop, plop. “It doesn’t make sense. It has to be here. All the signs point to this particular place.”
“Let me see your map.” He held his hand out. She hesitated. “Come on. I’m not going to run off with it.”
With a show of reluctance, she handed the paper over. He studied it then scanned their surroundings. The details were similar to where they were, but an argument could be made that the area differed slightly from the place outlined on the map.
Getting to her feet, she grabbed the paper. “Let me try over here.”
She hurried to another tree, one not as massive as the one next to him.
After a few moments, he stood. “It’s not here, Grace.”
A string of swear words streamed through her teeth. She rushed to yet another nearby tree. Again, she dug. “It has to be. I’ve done all the research.”
He walked to her then crouched beside her. When he clamped his hand over her wrist, she peered up at him with weariness heavy on her brow.
“How could I have been so wrong?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He longed to tug her into his arms.
“It does matter.” She shoved to her feet to pace between the trees. “I’ve spent so much time on this search. I’m tired of being wrong.”
The next time she headed in his direction, he rose and edged into her path. “It’s part of the job. You knock down one theory, which narrows your search. When we started this morning, we had three possible sites with good intel on each. Now, we’re down to two.”
She lifted her chin. “What if it’s not in either one of those places?”
Unable to stop himself, he reached out and brushed his thumb along her jawline. He wanted to promise her she’d win the prize, but the words stuck in his throat. Lying to her wasn’t an option. “We’ll reexamine the notes, review the data, make another educated guess.”
When she nibbled on her bottom lip, his groin tightened. How could such a simple gesture fill him with lust? Every part of him ached to take that plump lip between his teeth and nip it. What would she taste of? The blueberry scones they ate for breakfast? The three cups of coffee? Or sweet, warm woman?
He leaned forward, hoping she wouldn’t slap him. Hell, if he got a chance to feel her mouth on his, who cared about a smack across the cheek?
Her gaze softened as though she longed to be kissed.
Zing!
Something slammed into the tree trunk behind him.
Grace yelped. “Someone’s shooting at us!”
A second shot echoed through the woods.
His heart rate skyrocketed. Who the hell would want us dead? He shoved her back in the direction they’d come from. “Go, go!”
Water splashed around their hurried steps. Rocks jammed into his feet. Rain fell heavier, soaking him through. No more whizzing bullets followed, but what sounded like a crazed war cry erupted too close for comfort.
Grace whirled around, panic lining her features as she stared over his shoulder. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Don’t know.” He spun her forward and pressed his hands to her shoulder blades. “Keep moving.”
The storm intensified. Is that whooshing noise coming from water hitting the tree leaves, or is someone chasing us? Dammit, I didn’t sign up to be a target.
Grace’s heart slammed against her sternum. She rushed through the woods, pushing midges out of her eyes, shoving tree branches away from her face. A rock or two dug into the soles of her shoes. At least, for the moment, she was still alive.
She scrambled to get over the boulder she’d tripped on earlier. Her fingers dug into the dirt, her boots slipping on the wet rock. “Son of a bitch!”
Planting his hands on her ass, he gave her a boost. “Go, go!”
Sailing over the rock, she landed on her shoulder then rolled straight into a pair of big feet. Trying not to cry out with pain and panic, she scrambled backward.
“That’s far enough, lass.”
She glanced up into the face of a wild Highlander with a thick beard. He kept a gun trained on her.
“Uh, Simon.” She inched against him.
“Kind of busy.”
Another kilt-wearing, wild-haired man held a gun on her partner. Holy mother. We’re going to die over a treasure we can’t even find.