The Renegade (Rebel Hearts, #1)

by Baldwin, Lily

  Soon, rolling moorland revealed a stretch of wood in the distance, for which she was grateful. At least the trees would offer some coverage from the downpour.

  “We should stay our course and go around the wood,” Nathan said, once more pulling his horse beside her.

  She shook her head. “We cut through the forest.”

  “But a river passes through the easterly part of that wood.”

  She kept her gaze straight ahead. “I am aware of that.”

  “’Tis March. The river floods this time of year. We must think of the horses.”

  She dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand. “We took this same road not two days ago and had no trouble crossing the river.”

  His wet, black curls clung to his face, framing his silver eyes. He held his hand out, letting the rain splatter his palm. “Ye must account for these last days of hard rain. The westerly road around the wood will take longer, but it will be less tiring to the horses.”

  She shook her head. “We’re going to sleep tonight under the protection of Clan Grant. Already our arrival will be later than I planned because of our delayed departure,” she said, allowing displeasure to enter her tone. “Rosie is strong, and ye and Caleb ride sturdy beasts. I’m certain we’ll be able to cross the river somewhere.”

  “That I do not doubt, but the effort will be taxing.”

  Caleb brought his horse in line with Nathan’s. His dark head was covered by the hood of his cloak. “We’re not far from Stewart territory. They’ve a hunting lodge on the edge of their land. We are well known to Laird Stewart. He’ll not object to us seeking shelter from the storm.”

  Her eyes widened. “A hunting lodge!” She paused for a moment, reclaiming her usual calm. “Why bother?” she scoffed, “when we can lay our heads on the sodden ground.”

  A slight smile upturned Nathan’s lips. “Had I known ye would be so amendable to sleeping out of doors, it would have been my first suggestion.”

  She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I would like to remind ye that I have hired ye and not the other way around. I am leading our party. It should be evident to ye that I am not an animal. I do not sleep out of doors. I also would appreciate if in the future, ye keep yer suggestions to yerself. We will reach Grant territory this day. On this point, I am unwavering.”

  Nathan gave her an assessing look before quietly saying, “Lead on, my lady.”

  She straightened her back, refusing to admit her discomfort, and nudged Rosie forward. The way through the wood was slow going. Fallen tree limbs littered the path, which was slick with mud. The rain became more intense, and soon she heard the distant rush of the river. They had yet to stop and rest their mounts, and already Rosie’s breathing was becoming labored.

  She leaned over in her saddle and stroked her hot neck. “Ye can do this,” she whispered encouragingly. Squeezing the reins in her hands to cease her trembling, she prayed that she had not been hasty in her judgment.

  “Blast,” she muttered under her breath. The river roared like thunder. As she approached the swiftly moving current, her horse’s hooves began to sink in the mud

  Declan drew up beside her. “Fear not, my lady. We will find a safe place to cross. I have crossed many a river in my day.”

  “Aye, but I have not,” she admitted quietly. She glanced at Nathan who was watching her intently from several feet away. Seldom away from Bròn, she was unaccustomed to travel. She realized, in that moment, that her lack of experience had informed a foolish choice.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Nathan drew close. Without a word he dismounted and took the reins from her hands. With his horse and Rosie in tow, he stepped forward, his tall leather brogues sinking in the mud. A moment later Declan and Caleb did the same, leading their horses.

  “Stop, Nathan. Declan,” she called to her guard. “Help me down. I will lead Rosie.”

  Nathan glanced back at her, a gentle smile playing at his lips. “I’d like to see ye navigate these waters in yer tunic, unless ye intend to hitch it above yer knees.”

  Her pulse raced as she felt herself losing control over the situation, but the idea of revealing the better part of her legs to her companions silenced her protests. She had no choice but to allow Nathan to take the reins.

  At first, the horses snorted and resisted entering the water. To her relief, Nathan did not force them. Instead, he walked further along the shore.

  “Ye’re letting them choose where to cross,” she observed.

  He nodded and in a quiet voice said, “The horses will find the surest footing themselves.”

  Finally, Nathan’s stallion began to wade deeper into the river, but Rosie hesitated. Nathan turned and pressed his cheek to hers. “’Tis all right, lass,” Elora heard him croon, his voice tender. He clicked his tongue and continued to encourage her, until, at last, she took her first tentative steps into deeper waters. Behind her, Declan and Caleb followed, each leading their horses.

  When they reached the other side, apprehension washed over Elora. Rosie hung her head low, her white mane dragging the ground. “’Tis all right, lass.”

  Nathan turned to face her.

  “We must rest the horses,” she said quickly before he could, seizing the moment to reestablish her authority.

  But to her surprise, he shook his head. “Nay, we make camp.”

  She stiffened. “What? Vespers must yet be hours away.”

  “We make camp,” he said again.

  “Nay, I will not sleep on the ground.”

  “My lady,” Declan began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Nathan is right. We’ll never make it to Grant land. Even Stewart territory is beyond the reach of our horses now. If we carry on, we’ll end up having to make camp on the open moors. At least here we will be under the cover of the trees.”

  She shook her head. “For all we know, the storm may be subsiding.” Just then a roar of thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain came down all the harder, mocking her hopeful prediction.

  Without a word, Nathan mounted his horse. Once again, he grasped Rosie’s reins and started to lead them off the forest path, deeper into the thicket.

  “I can manage her myself,” Elora snapped, feeling her temper rise. She pressed her lips together, regretting her uncharacteristic outburst. Still, she withstood Nathan’s probing gaze.

  At length, he handed back her reins. Then he continued forward. She sat still for a moment, searching her mind for some way to gain back the upper hand.

  “My lady, are ye all right?” Declan asked behind her.

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  Tension filling her shoulders, she nudged her horse forward, knowing there was nothing she could do but follow Nathan’s lead.

  Chapter Six

  The fierce rain carved rivulets into the sodden muddy earth and pelted tree limbs and Spring’s first leaves. The din was deafening. Her heart quickened every time her mind returned to the very reason she had set out on what she now was beginning to fear was a hopeless quest. What if the Mackintosh arrived at Castle Bròn before she did? Unless she had another marriage contract blessed and signed before he reached their front gate, she could only refuse his advances at risk to her people.

  It came as no surprise when her father had announced his choice for her husband. Laird Mackintosh mirrored the deceased chieftain of Clan Brodie in every way. He was cruel and ambitious to the point of blindness. He would only bring hardship to her people.

  She stiffened in her seat when Nathan suddenly turned and glanced back at her, his brow drawn. “Are ye all right?” he called over the din

  Nay! She wanted to shout. She was freezing, wet to the bone, frustrated, not to mention worried, but she was not going to tell him the truth. A curt nod of her head was her only reply.

  He turned back around and rode on. Despite the cold and drenching rain, he was relaxed in the saddle. She watched him sway side to side in a gentle rhythm, matching the stomping of his stallion’s hooves. Her gaze trace
d his broad, powerful shoulders and well-muscled legs as he rode.

  “My lady, I am going to pass ye on yer right,” Declan shouted from behind.

  He did as he had warned and pulled his horse alongside Nathan’s. She watched with unease while her guard conferred with their new leader. What they were discussing, she could not say, which only heightened her frustration. But Nathan was nodding, listening intently to Declan. In response, he gestured further up the path. Declan appeared to nod, seemingly in agreement. Then he rode ahead, no doubt to carry out Nathan’s bidding while Nathan fell back, bringing his horse alongside Rosie.

  “There is a clearing up ahead that will have to do for the night,” he said.

  She nodded but said nothing as she fought to keep herself from shivering in the cold.

  As if he could read her thoughts, his black brows drew together, showing his concern. “It will be all right, my lady.”

  “Of course, it will,” she said, grasping for her courage.

  Sure enough, the trees thinned out and soon they rode into a glade free from underbrush but still canopied by tree boughs.

  Straightaway, Nathan dismounted and crossed to her side. Without a word, he reached up and placed his hands at her waist.

  Her eyes widened. “What are ye doing?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smile. “I’m helping ye down, my lady.”

  His silver eyes locked with hers. He lifted her off the saddle, then lowered her to the ground, achingly slow. Her heart pounded as his strong hands held her. When her feet touched down, his hands lingered at her waist, and she did not step away. His gaze held hers captive. Not for the first time, she glimpsed something in his eyes. She couldn’t name what she saw. It wasn’t lustful desire—she had experienced the wantonness of men enough at clan gatherings and had even caught the men of Brodie looking at her with desire. His gaze was intent but still somehow distant, even though he held her closer than any man had ever dared.

  At length, she cleared her throat. His hands dropped away. She stepped back, her waist still burning from his touch.

  “Nathan,” she heard Caleb say, drawing his silver gaze away. She turned, and pretended to be occupied with soothing Rosie, when, in fact, she fought to catch her breath.

  “My lady,” Declan called. With relief, she turned her attention to her kinsman who had propped a saddle against a tree, and now stood with a blanket outstretched in his arms. “’Tis wet, but ‘tis better than naught. Come and sit here while we ready camp.”

  She looked at Declan’s makeshift chair and blanket with longing, but more immediate than her own comfort was her need to reclaim her authority. Turning to face the men, she set her hands on her hips, ready to take command, but then she faltered. She knew how to ask that the home fires be lit, but not how to light the fire herself. She knew how to organize dozens of servants to keep Bròn running smoothly, but she knew nothing of making camp.

  Resigned to relinquish control, at least temporarily, she settled herself on the saddle.

  Declan wrapped her in the blanket. “Thank ye,” she said. Then she watched as he turned and joined with the other men. Nathan easily took command, and to her surprise, she couldn’t find fault in his plans or how he spoke to her kinsman. First, the men turned their attention to the horses, brushing away burs and dried mud from their coats and scraping their hooves clean. Next, they set to work cutting branches and whittling the wood down to the dry layers, which they piled on top of thin shavings. Soon, they had a small fire.

  When, at last, the men were ready to rest, they circled around the wee dancing flames.

  Elora outstretched her hands toward the heat. “Thank ye for yer hard work.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Declan replied.

  Caleb nodded in acknowledgment, his blue eyes kind.

  “My pleasure,” Nathan said. She shifted her gaze to meet his. His face was, once again, impassive.

  She cleared her throat. “We’ve dried stag,” she offered, and began to divide their remaining supply, but her hands, still aching from the cold, shook as she worked.

  “Thank ye,” Nathan said, accepting his portion, only he did not take the meat. Instead, he clasped her hands in his.

  Her breath caught.

  “Ye’re so cold,” he said softly.

  She swallowed hard, pulling her hands free. “I’m fine,” she said, looking away, confused by his gentle manner. Then she remembered that he had not always been a thief-taker. He had been born a chieftain’s son and no doubt had the education and training befitting his station.

  When the last of the meat had been eaten, Caleb stood and dipped his head to her. “I bid ye goodnight, my lady.” He turned and crossed to the far side of the glade and wrapped the top folds of his plaid around his shoulders. Then he laid down with his back to the fire and to them.

  Declan’s brows drew together. “Did we do something that might have offended yer companion?”

  Nathan shook his head. “Caleb prefers the quiet of his own company.”

  Declan’s worry eased from his face. “That I understand. I often seek out the comfort of solitude, do I not, my lady?”

  Elora smiled at her kinsman. “Indeed, ye do. I credit yer wisdom and patience to the many hours ye spend at prayer, alone in the kirk.”

  Always modest, Declan shook his head, waving away her praise.

  “What of ye, Nathan?” she asked quietly.

  He did not answer right away, which she was beginning to realize was his habit. Instead, he held her gaze. Tilting her chin higher, she forced herself not to look away or squirm beneath his scrutiny. At length, he answered, “The less I have to listen to my own thoughts the better.” Then he raised his face to the rain and closed his eyes.

  His answer both intrigued and saddened her, and for some inexplicable reason she wanted to reach over and take his hand in hers and...

  “We should all rest,” she blurted and stood, shrugging the blanket off her shoulders. Then she spread it out on the ground.

  Declan helped her smooth out the wrinkles. “My lady,” he began.

  She looked up and met his gaze, surprised to see a hint of pink coloring his weathered cheeks.

  “It occurs to me,” he continued, “that if I turn my back to ye, I do not think it would be indecent, considering our circumstances, were you to lie close to me to keep warm.”

  Shivering, she nodded. “I believe ye’re correct in yer thinking. Thank ye, Declan.”

  Nathan stood then, and met her gaze. He closed the distance between them. “Will ye be all right?” His tone was husky. A tightness entered her chest. She was moved by the concern she heard in his voice, but then she glimpsed his devil’s charm as the sideways smile curved one side of his lips. “I’ll warm yer other side.”

  His sensual words reminded her that he was a rake, hired for a single purpose. She would not allow his occasional thoughtfulness to become a distraction. She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  When she turned to walk away, he gently seized her arm. “Forgive my jest.” He reached out and stroked the back of his fingers down her cheek. “Ye’re like ice.”

  “I’m becoming quite accustomed to the cold,” she lied, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

  He gave her a knowing look. “Should ye change yer mind, I will just be over there,” he said, gesturing to the other side of the fire.

  Shivering, she lay on the freezing, wet blanket. As promised, Declan turned his back to her. She sidled up next to him, pressing her back against his. Then she covered herself with her cloak. It was not long until she heard Declan’s even breaths, signaling he had, despite the rain and cold, somehow fallen asleep. She knew, of course, that the head of her guard, who had one and forty years to his credit, was a seasoned warrior and had known worse nights than a rain storm in a peaceful glade. She, on the other hand, had never slept out of doors, not to mention in the rain when Spring had not yet fully laid claim to the land. Tears flooded her eyes. Unable to
restrain herself any longer, her teeth chattered and her body shook. She turned into Declan’s back, huddling close and prayed for sleep to take her pain away.

  But then she heard something stirring behind her. Her eyes flashed wide. An instant later, strong arms surrounded her, and she was pulled against a hard, warm body.

  “Nay,” she gasped, twisting to free herself.

  “Hush,” a deep voice crooned in her ear. “Pretend ye like the feel of my arms. It will be good practice since I will soon be yer betrothed.”

  She lay stiffly in Nathan’s arms, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

  “Do not resist my help,” he said, rocking her gently.

  “Blast,” she cursed and quickly turned into his embrace, burying her face in his neck. He crushed her against himself, and it did not occur to her to fight him again. She had never been held by a man. Under any other circumstances, she would have been furious, scandalized. But at that moment, she needn’t pretend to enjoy Nathan’s embrace as he had bidden her. His warmth surrounded her. His strength comforted her. She breathed deep his masculine scent. Slowly, her shivering ceased, and she eased her shoulders away from her ears. The tension fled her body. She melted into Nathan’s warmth, savoring his heat. Softening her whole body, she wiggled as close to him as she could.

  “My lady,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Ye must hold still.”

  She pulled away a little. “I’m not shivering any longer.”

  “Aye, but ye’re still moving.”

  “I do not mean to keep ye awake.”

  “Ye’re awakening more than ye realize,” he said, his voice strained.

  She blushed when she realized what he was trying to convey.

  He desired her.

  What struck her to her core was that she was neither repelled nor offended.

  In fact, she was breathless. Never had she known such intimacy before.

  Now, she couldn’t sleep but not for the cold. It was the heat of his body that kept her awake and the knowledge of his desire. She tried to turn her thoughts elsewhere—anywhere other than the feel of Nathan’s hard, chiseled physique pressed against her racing heart. Still, no matter how she tried, she could not deny her response to his touch. Silently cursing herself, she fought for command over her emotions. Forcing her breathing to steady, she strengthened her resolve. She would not allow herself to be so easily tempted by a man, especially one who drank to oblivion and shared his bed with a different woman every night. It mattered not how good he smelled, or how strong his embrace, or how captivated she was by the secrets she glimpsed in his silver gaze.