She supposed they must be greatly outnumbered, as none of their party came to Jamie’s aid, though his disadvantage was clear.
To their left, Ada saw the body of another man, quite a distance from where Jamie dodged and parried this man’s attack. The man was quite obviously dead, his horse gone and his bow useless at this side. Ada crept through the brush and pounced on the dead man, just at the edge of the bare trail. As she hovered just near a thick tree, she could see little of the battle that raged. She yanked at the man’s bow, around which his fingers still curled. She tugged harder and gained possession of the large thing and searched around for arrows but saw none. Falling to her knees, she pushed the dead man onto his side and found the projectiles, in the quiver at his back. She wrapped her hand around what few remained and pulled them free before the body fell back.
Ada ducked back into the cover of the trees, hopefully before she was noticed. Near to the stump, she found a spot with a clear but narrow view of Jamie’s bout. With more determination than know-how, certainly wishing she’d paid more attention when she’d watched the training with Kinnon at Stonehaven, she whipped her cloak back off her shoulders, and nocked an arrow onto the bow. A cry burst forth, for the sight of her trembling hands, as she tried to aim. Adjusting her focus brought the fight into view beyond the tip of the arrow. Jamie was still standing, ducking, and deflecting each thrust of the man’s long blade with the torch. The flame was beginning to dwindle. They were standing and circling fairly close, the two men, and her hands were shaking yet too much for her to chance a shot now. She waited, drawing deep and even breaths, for an opening. She needed Jamie well clear of the man, suspecting it not so easy as it looked to fire a missile through the air, and have it land where you intended. The blue tartan-ed man lunged again, catching the sleeve of Jamie’s arm with the tip of his blade. Jumping away from the swiping sword, Jamie created quite a bit of space between him and his assailant.
Ada let the arrow fly. And hit nothing. But the arrow sailed directly between the two men, surprising them, that they both turned, to locate the new adversary. Jamie recovered first, and swung his torch as a club, catching the man on the side of the head. The man fell and Jamie kicked him hard in his gut, divesting the man of his weapon and using it to end his life.
Rather than come to her, Jamie squinted into the trees with a surprisingly ferocious scowl before he sprinted away from her, along the trail, toward the rest of the fighting.
Briefly, she wondered if she might be helpful to any other, with her newly acquired bow and arrow, but thought then she’d only been lucky with her solo shot. And her hands were still shaking, now with even greater force. She was about to find cover again behind the fallen tree when she heard the unmistakable sound of Will’s growl. Whatever he was about, and Ada could not see from this vantage point, he was clearly and directly involved in this battle. She could well discern the growl as being similar to the one he used when he playfully tugged at some item he wanted from Ada. But this growl was vicious, and she could well imagine his head moving side to side, his teeth clamped down on some unfortunate thing or person.
Ada heard a shout of, “Go on, Will!” and thought it might have been Wallace who’d hollered. Will did not obey, Ada guessed, now frantic as she heard a renewed growl and more steel clanging. Frightfully upset, she stood frozen, forgetting even to hide herself.
And then, rather all at once, the noise stopped.
“Catch him!” She heard Roger call, followed quickly by another’s exclamation of “God damn it!”
The night darkened as torches were either stomped out or faded on their own. Several low moans reached her ears, but Ada remained where she was, unable to move.
Another of Wallace’s comrades interrogated a wounded man, asking who’d sent them, what they were after. The man groaned and cried but gave no answers. Then his cries stopped.
Someone walked through the trees and came toward her. Ada’s relief was palpable as she recognized Jamie’s silhouette and his purposeful pace as he neared.
He strode right up to her, put his face in hers and snarled, “Which part dinna you hear? The stay put part? The dinna make a sound part?”
“I—I—”
“God damn it, Ada! That’s how people get killed—they dinna listen!”
Truthfully, even as she knew he was right, and that his anger was possibly justified, she believed his fury overdone. She was unharmed, after all. And she had helped him!
He ground out, “I specifically recall you saying that you understood my order.”
With her own burst of annoyance, she revealed, “When I said that, it didn’t mean that I agreed. It didn’t even mean I understood.” And then, lamely, and with a bit of remorse, “Unfortunately, it didn’t even mean that I was listening.”
He threw up his hands, his frustration evident. “Then why did you say it?”
He was shouting still, which then had Ada yelling back at him, “It seemed to be what you wanted to hear.” She was quite distressed to notice that tears seemed imminent. Damn that man. It was all his fault anyway!
He collected their mount and marched toward the others. Ada followed, and saw that the thin trail was laden now with dead bodies, including two of their own.
She was then distracted by others riding away. She stared, counting only she and Jamie and William Wallace and Roger that remained.
Of course, George Goody was dead, left somewhere in a field of heather. When she asked about the leave-taking of the others, Wallace answered, “Mr. Crumb had need of medical assistance, so the lads bore him straightaway to Aberdeen, where their role was twofold, in that they were consigned to ferret out from whence came this cowardly attack.”
They rode yet again, but only for an hour or so, to put the battle, and the evidence of it, far behind them. When they settled down to sleep, and without the benefit of even a small fire, Ada curled up with her back to Jamie, her jaw clenched in resentment and cold, childishly wishing she could take back the aid she’d given him, such as it was.
She stiffened when she realized movement behind her, knowing he was lying down as well, and then was quite surprised when, despite their harsh words and residual frustration, he hauled her up against him. “Aye now, dinna fuss,” he said when she stiffened. His voice demonstrated still a particular ire, even as he pressed himself against the length of her and wedged his arm under her head. “Dinna disobey again, lass. I need to be clear headed, and no be worrying about you.”
And that changed everything. He had been worried about her?
Ada chewed her lip for a moment. She turned in his arms, so that she faced him. She opted to tell him the truth but wanted to be sure that no one overheard her. The stubborn man wouldn’t lower his head. Ada waited. When he still didn’t and being rather embarrassed by the confession she was about to make, Ada whispered, “I didn’t mean to not listen to whatever you had said to me.” And then haltingly, “It’s just that I could not truly listen, or at least not make sense of it—you were so close and your...your lips were nearly touching me, and I was thinking about...I was wondering if you were going to kiss me again.”
He hadn’t been moving, of course, was just lying there, but Ada felt every part of him become rigid. She was convinced she could actually hear his teeth clenching. So much for her apology by way of explanation begetting any peace between them.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help but bristle. “Mayhap any future directives should be given with a minimal distance between us,” she said, uncaring that it sounded so ridiculous.
He lowered his head now, and Ada waited for more harsh words from him. But he only kissed her forehead and drew her even closer to him. Ada sighed with the release of anxiety, aware of the tension leaving his body as well.
Several minutes passed, before he murmured into her hair. “Minimal distance of three feet? That sound about right for any future directives?”
Ada smiled into his chest. “I should think five or more.”
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WHEN NEXT SHE WOKE, the sun was not yet risen, but hovering just over the hills to the east. Ada turned her head and saw William Wallace walking back toward their little circle, sans his chain mail and surcote, rubbing a length of fabric over his naked chest. His hair and skin glistened as if wet, and Ada assumed he’d only taken himself off for a bath and wondered how she might manage that.
She sighed and closed her eyes, groggy still and now dreaming of heated water and the stout wooden tub she’d used at Stonehaven.
“That’s a wistful sigh, lass,” came Jamie’s voice very close to her.
“What I wouldn’t give for a bath,” she said. She was quite comfortable, and kept her eyes closed, hoping Jamie MacKenna was in no hurry to move. Will was on her left and Jamie on her right, that she rather enjoyed the warmth, being squeezed in between them.
Jamie’s arm flexed underneath her, where it rested beneath her neck and head, as if he wished to rise. Ada ignored it, receiving a chuckle for her stubbornness.
“Was thinking much the same,” he said. “Aye, now, let me up, and we’ll see about making your dreams come true today.”
This opened Ada’s eyes. She sat up, as did Jamie. Will lifted his head, but not for long, only stretching out his front paws before applying his chin to them.
Jamie disappeared into the brush while Ada sat idly, rubbing the fur behind Will’s ears. William Wallace had donned a fresh tunic and returned all his accoutrements to his person, sitting now with his psalter, as he did often throughout the day. Will had risen and sat now quietly at his side.
The bath did not come until they’d ridden all day, their pace unhurried so that Ada thought they hadn’t traveled more than ten or so miles. When they finally stopped, late in the afternoon, the four each contributed to setting up a transient campsite. The ground here was rocky and Jamie left off digging, using several large stones to make a circle for their fire while Ada gathered kindling and a few heavier pieces of wood. Wallace and Roger each removed their bow and quivers from their mounts and announced they’d see about hunting their dinner.
When Ada had supplied what she thought was a fair amount of tinder and Jamie had arranged the pieces and started the fire, he turned to her and suggested, “You’ll want your bath now while the sun still shines.”
Ada nodded. To find this secluded campsite, they’d walked their horses around a small loch. The sun had shimmered over the water, and though she knew it would be cold, it certainly looked inviting. She fetched her bundled belongings from Jamie’s horse and walked down to the water. To her surprise, Jamie followed her, and she hoped she didn’t have to insist on privacy or hoped that he didn’t need to be told that she expected it. But Jamie only scouted the area at the water’s edge, pointing toward the right, where a section of tall brush and trees extended almost into the water.
“Should have some privacy down there, lass,” he said, and Ada breathed a sigh of relief.
She ambled in the suggested direction, glancing back to see Jamie turning away and walking back to camp. When she was completely out of sight, Ada divested herself of her cloak, hanging it over a red flowering bush. Her gown and chemise, and shoes and hose followed, all but her shoes being rolled into one bundle that would need laundering eventually.
She recalled well enough from so long in the forest outside Stonehaven that it was best to submerge herself quickly and completely, as the longer it took her to force herself into the cold water, the more dreadful the bath seemed. With this in mind, she walked rather purposefully into the water, surprised to find that it dropped fairly quickly to be above her shoulders. Truthfully, it wasn’t as cold as she’d feared, but it wasn’t warm either. She held her breath and dunked her head, spending a few minutes scrubbing at her scalp with her fingernails, dunking again and again to clean her hair.
She emerged at one point and heard a splash, clearing water from her eyes just in time to see Jamie MacKenna’s head surface, from deep in the water, and far from Ada, closer to their camp. He went about the same business as her, ridding himself of a traveler’s grime.
While Ada was not disturbed by his presence, being as she was covered up to her chest in the water and he was quite a distance away, she hoped he was quick with his bath as she wished neither to have to walk naked from the loch in full view of him nor to remain in the chilly water any longer than necessary.
He was considerate enough that he did not dawdle but after only a few minutes began to climb from the water. Ada held her breath, realizing Jamie MacKenna had no similar qualms about striding naked, it seemed. Without purposeful intent, she lowered herself so that her chin hovered just at the water line as she watched him exit the loch. The space between them now posed a hindrance and Ada was presented with only a hazy image of pale skin and hard muscles and a catlike grace as he moved. When he reached the bank of the loch, he bent and retrieved his plaid, applying it to his chest and back and arms to dry himself. And then, seemingly indifferent to the surely cool air, he gathered up his boots and other items, and walked, still naked, back to their camp.
Ada shook herself and returned her attention to her bath, chastising herself for having ogled the MacKenna so eagerly. When she could stand the cold water no more and when she was satisfied that she was so much cleaner, she started toward the bank herself, only to be stopped by the sight of a large snake, sunning itself at the base of the bush where she’d hung her cloak. She stood now, covered only to her waist, frozen in place by the reptile’s poor timing. She debated what to do, knowing she wasn’t brave enough to walk even just close enough to grab the cloak and run, with only the unsupported hope that the snake wouldn’t move. The cool air hit her, chilling her so much more than being submerged in the water had. Ada reached into the water, found one of the bothersome rocks at her feet and hurled it at the snake. She screamed then, as the rock landed very close to the snake, which sent it scrambling to safety, into the water. With another shriek, Ada dashed from the water as fast as she could, yanking at her cloak and managing only to clutch it to her chest just as Jamie MacKenna burst onto the scene, sword in hand, his other hand holding the ties of his obviously hastily donned breeches.
He raced over to her, his chest and feet bare, eyes ablaze.
Horrified, Ada looked down to make sure her cloak covered all of her, which it barely did. With limited success, she tried to pull the cloak wider, around at least one hip, and said with some panic, some apology, “’Twas only a snake.” She was very sure that her cheeks were bright red with both her fright and her embarrassment.
He stopped, within ten feet of her, the tensed muscles of his arms softening as he lowered his sword. Ada bit her lip and stared at him, at his chest. She couldn’t not stare, even as she knew he stared at her as well.
She didn’t know what the word was to describe her reaction to him, to the sight of his very bare, very solid, very...manly chest. But she supposed her response, being abruptly breathless and filled with some novel sense of wonder, at the very least, hinted at some appreciation for his appearance. Forgetting that she stood naked, with only the cloak that no doubt showed just as much as it concealed, Ada stared at his rock hard stomach and the sculpted muscles of his massive shoulders and strong arms. His chest was only sparsely covered with hair, which intriguingly tapered to one thin line as it disappeared into his breeches. True, she could determine no term for what it was that swirled inside her at the sight of him, but she knew the word for what she gazed upon. Beautiful. Jamie MacKenna was beautiful.
“Aye, now, dinna be staring like that,” Jamie said.
His voice, low and husky, startled Ada’s gaze away from his chest and onto his face. She was mortified at her overlong—indeed, wanton—perusal of him. But for the life of her, she couldn’t manage any statement of apology for her gawking. And then, as if they’d a will of their own, her eyes strayed again to the perfectly symmetrical pectoral muscles and the flat brown nipples.
A flick of his wrist sent the sword, blade first, int
o the ground, which pulled Ada’s gaze, but only for the space of a second, to see the hilt sway back and forth. Jamie covered the distance between them in a few quick strides and wrapped his fingers around her upper arms.
“I warned you, lass.”
Chapter Twelve
He kissed her. He shouldn’t, some part of him cautioned, but how could he not? The gaze she’d put to him, all that awe and wonder she could not contain amounted to a silent siren’s call, no matter how artlessly given.
Ada stood motionless, but Jamie was aware of her shoulders going limp, while her hands clutched the cloak tightly still, crushed between them. Every fiber of his being was aware of how perfectly naked she was beyond that cloak.
Softly, slowly, as not to startle her, he let his kiss inform her of his intent, and indeed, his extreme reverence for how very fine she was. He was besieged with a brilliant desire—not to possess her, but just to hold her, to feel her in his arms. Something in her, that strange combination of hard-bitten innocence intrigued him as nothing else ever had.
He cupped her face, pressed his lips to hers, and gave up his own sigh at the feel of her. Then Jamie pulled away to meet her fascinated and beguiling eyes. With great tenderness, he kissed each cheek, paying homage to those scars. Ada whimpered at his ear.
“I—I have no clothes...” she said, breathless.
Against her lips, he murmured, a smile in his words as there hadn’t been in so long, “Aye, and dinna I ken it.”
He continued to kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, reveling in the feel and taste of her. Slowly, he lowered his hands and circled her waist. Sweeping his hands around her slim hips, his breath caught at the sensation of the cool nakedness of her buttocks. Her skin was unbearably soft and smooth, and he was not oblivious to the gooseflesh that rose with his touch.
The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3) Page 13