Kirk couldn’t keep his eyes off the lass, limned as she was in the breaking daylight. He’d never had such a strong reaction to a woman, certainly not at first sight. He couldn’t forget the feel of her body beneath his, the scent of her skin, the kiss of her breath.
Though they were both lovely and both redheads, the shorter one with the deep burnished curls utterly captured his attention. Her features were exquisite, eyes wide and deep green, her nose noble but delicate, and her lips…ah. Her lips made his knees weak. Especially when her pink tongue dabbed out to wet them.
A shudder took him.
Aye, she was a beauty indeed.
The other was taller, and while her face was pleasing, it did not snare his attention. Her hair was a lighter shade of red, almost honey in color, and her eyes were green as well, but had nowhere near the depth of her companion’s. Freckles spattered her nose. She had an impish expression, while his angel seemed demure, almost shy.
This was a relief, because it was obvious to him that one of these lasses had to be Katherine Killin. Two redheads in the woods less than a day’s ride from Killin Keep? A keep that had recently lost a redheaded daughter?
Aye, one of them was Katherine, and rumors told him she was hardly demure.
It was foolish to hope his angel was not the Sabin lass, but he did. How he would love to seduce her. To lay her down in the heather and kiss her, to bare her breast, to suckle her until she cried out for more…
Aye. It would indeed be unfortunate if she proved to be his brother’s bride.
Luckily, Kirk was not a man of hope. He was a man of action.
He hunched down before the lasses. He didn’t miss the fact that two pairs of female eyes shot to the shadows beneath his kilt. And widened. With a grunt, he repositioned his legs. Hell. Whoever they were, he didn’t want to frighten them. “So,” he said. “Who are you?”
As he expected, they both tightened their lips.
And his angel’s…they were lovely lips. Bow-shaped and pink and like her in all things—delicate and tempting.
Kirk tried to shift his focus on the taller girl—who, given her haughty expression and scorching scowl, could indeed be Katherine Killin—but his attention kept drifting back to the other. Something about her, the flash in her eyes, the set of her heart-shaped face, those lips…something snagged his focus. And held it.
She was more than a beautiful lass. She made his breath quicken, his blood surge. His imagination roil.
When they didn’t respond to Kirk’s question, Brodie asked, “Why are you heading to Inverness?”
Kirk took his friend’s lead and softened his features into a commiserating moue. “Might you be escaping from villains?”
Ah. That produced a response. The lasses exchanged a glance and then the tall one gusted a sigh. “Aye.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes with a woeful gaze. “Villains.”
“Are you in danger?”
Again, the tall one, the bolder one, responded. “Aye. We are.”
He narrowed his eyes. “We can help you escape, but you have to be honest with us.”
“Och, aye.”
“Who are you running from?”
They exchanged another glance. Lips firmed once more.
“Is it Killin?”
Both lasses flinched at the hated name. That was confirmation enough. One of them had to be Katherine.
“Aye,” the tall one murmured after a long moment. While he was happy someone was talking, a part of him wanted to hear from the other lass. He yearned to know the sound of her voice. Well, when she wasn’t howling at him in fury.
“No’ to worry,” Brodie said soothingly. “We’re no’ of a mind to return you to the bastard.”
“Aye,” Kirk said with a nod. “Killin is no friend of the Rannochs.”
Finally she spoke. “The Rannochs are our enemy.” Ah. Her voice was a lilting melody, delicious, delightful, and utterly devastating. Because the way she said his name made it clear…she despised it. The fear in her eyes was undeniable, too.
Fury rose in his soul. The Rannochs were a noble line, descended from the great Kenneth McAlpin himself, the first Highland king. They were peaceful people—unless they were provoked—and took pride in their chivalrous nature. That Killin had spread foul and disgusting stories about his clan infuriated Kirk.
It infuriated him more that she believed them.
He clenched his teeth, and forced his features into a benign arrangement, an amiable smile. “We are no’ the monsters Laird Killin told you we were,” he said in a gentle tone. “Our mission is to escort Katherine Sabin Killin safely to her new husband, Ben Rannoch. I promise you, we mean neither of you harm. Is…is one of you the Sabin lass?”
There was another long pause as the lasses exchanged another glance. They seemed to have perfected the art of speaking without words. After a moment, they nodded and the tall lass stood. “’Tis I,” she said. “I am Katherine Killin.”
Thanks be to God it was not his angel who spoke. Some wild and wanton relief rushed through Kirk’s chest. He turned to his angel and proffered that smile again, hoping his roiling tension didn’t show. “And who are you?” he asked her, ignoring the catch in his voice. Och, he desperately wanted to know. His pulse thrummed with anticipation.
She dropped her gaze as though too shy to meet his. “I am…Katherine’s maid, Ann.”
Ann. Her name was Ann.
Not Katherine. Glory be.
And she was a maid.
Excellent.
A highborn lady would want little to do with a second son, but a maid? She would, no doubt, be delighted to accept his attention. This was good news indeed.
But there was one more hurdle to cross.
He fixed his attention on Katherine. “You should travel with us,” he said resolutely. “Allow us to escort you to Rannoch and your groom.”
To his chagrin, the lady pulled herself up and, looking regal and outraged, snapped, “You threw my maid to the ground. And you”—she pointed her finger at Brodie—“manhandled me.”
Brodie’s throat worked. No doubt he was imagining having to explain to his laird exactly how Katherine’s knee found its way into his groin. “I…I…I…” he stammered.
“You ask us to travel with you, when you treated us so basely?”
“You were in the process of stealing our horses. We dinna know who you were.” Kirk smiled to soften the rebuke, but it was a brittle offering.
Katherine tipped her nose and sniffed. “We do apologize for that, of course.”
“We do,” Ann said. She looked up at him with a pleading glance, one that made something flutter in his belly. Lord, she was lovely.
“So will you?” he asked, as he held her gaze. “Will you travel with us? Allow us to keep you safe?” He held his breath as they contemplated his proposal. His pulse pounded. Tension prickled on his brow. He urgently wanted them to agree.
It wasn’t merely that these roads were far too dangerous for two young, beautiful lasses to travel alone. It wasn’t that it was his charge to bring Katherine Killin to Rannoch. It wasn’t even his desire to thwart Cuithbeart Killin.
Nae. It was something more.
He wanted, needed, Ann’s assent.
The fact was, if they refused this offer, he and Brodie would have no choice but to take them anyway, bound and gagged if need be. Katherine Killin would be delivered to Rannoch, no matter what it took.
But it would be much more pleasant if force weren’t necessary.
Kirk eschewed seducing women who were bound and gagged as a general rule. And he fully intended to seduce wee Ann.
So, aye, he held his breath as they contemplated his offer.
After what seemed an eternity, Katherine nodded. “Aye. We will travel with you.”
The churning in his gut ceased immediately, replaced by a surprising exhilaration.
She would be coming with him. Riding with him. All the way to Rannoch.
It was a foolish relief. A foolish hope. They’d only just met. But the excitement, nae, the recognition, he felt when he looked at her could not be denied. This was more than mere attraction, though he was at a loss to put a name to it.
All he knew was he could not lose her.
And he would not.
His seduction of wee Ann was about to begin.