by Lynsay Sands
"I did no' choose this spot fer her," Dougall lied to discourage teasing. "I told ye, I wanted to camp by water fer the horses."
"Oh . . . aye," Conran agreed with obvious disbelief, and then his expression grew somber. "Just . . ."
"What?" Dougall asked when he didn't continue.
Conran considered him briefly, seeming to have some kind of inner argument, and then he straightened his shoulders and advised, "Have a care with her."
Dougall narrowed his eyes. "What do ye mean?"
"I mean she's an unmarried lady without chaperone or even her lady's maid, and I ken ye're attracted to her."
Dougall considered denying the claim, but in the end just said a wary "So?"
"So I do no' blame ye fer wanting her; she's an attractive woman. But she's also a lady born who is depending on us to see her safely to Saidh and Lady Sinclair. Her hope is that they may come up with a way to save her from a brother who apparently thinks and treats her as little more than a lightskirt."
"I ken all o' that, Con," Dougall said dryly, annoyed at the lecture. "What's yer point?"
"I just think ye should step lightly," Conran said quietly. "Do no' follow yer instincts and unintentionally make her think ye see her as a lightskirt too." He didn't wait for a response, but moved to help Geordie and Alick set up camp.
Dougall watched him go, then turned to peer toward Murine, his heart sinking. He hadn't stopped here with the intent of seducing Murine, but as they'd ridden that day, his mind had wandered to this spot and he had found himself imagining certain scenarios once they reached the waterfall. Murine being as over pleased at his choosing the spot as she'd been at Geordie's giving her the linen. Of her giving him what started out as an appreciative hug, but turned into much more.
Closing his eyes, Dougall rubbed a hand wearily around the back of his neck. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he really had intended on seducing her with kisses and caresses, of laying her in a clearing, stripping her clothes, kissing her protests away and taking her there in the grass. It had seemed an exciting and even beautiful thing when he'd imagined it, but now Conran's words made him feel as lowly as her brother. Murine was a lady, and a damned fine one at that. She had courage as she'd proven both when she'd saved his sister and when she'd fled her evil brother on that damned cow of hers. But she also had revealed intelligence and kindness to himself and his brothers. She deserved more than a roll in the grass by the side of a waterfall. He just couldn't treat her like the lightskirt her brother had tried to make her, Dougall thought with self-disgust. Especially when he had offered his escort and protection. So he would have to marry her to have her, or keep his hands off.
Oddly enough, the prospect of marrying Murine wasn't nearly as distressing now as it had been when his brothers had first suggested they would be willing to do it themselves. He could certainly do worse for a bride, and began to think he would never find better.
A little stunned by his own thoughts, Dougall started toward the woman, intending to catch up to her ere she fainted, fell in the water and drowned herself, removing the option of marriage before he could even decide if he wanted to do it. He had barely taken a step when she started to drop. Heart lurching, Dougall burst into a run, but slowed just before reaching her when he realized that she was crouching, not fainting.
Wondering what the devil she was doing, Dougall came to a halt behind her and peered over her shoulder. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the mess of baby rabbits huddled together.
She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at him. "Are they no' lovely?"
Dougall stared at her blankly and then pointed out, "They're rabbits."
"Aye, but just wee babes, and so soft. Feel it." She popped up and turned, holding out one of the wee beasties. When Dougall merely stared at the little ball of fur with dismay, she pressed it closer, nearly against his chest. "Go on. Feel how soft 'tis."
Dougall shook his head. "I do no' usually pet me dinner."
Murine snatched it back with alarm. "Ye're no' eating it."
"Nay, but we'll be eating one o' its older cousins shortly," he pointed out dryly and then nodded toward the nest where at least nine others nestled together, their eyes all closed. By his guess they were only a week to ten days old. "Ye'd best put it back, lass. 'Tis probably terrified and'll die from fright."
"It's no' terrified," she said, holding the ball of fur to her chest and smiling as she petted the animal.
"Still, its ma may no' take care o' it if she smells you on it," he pointed out.
Murine raised wide, alarmed eyes to him. "Nay!"
"Aye," he said with a shrug, and then suggested, "Put it back. Hopefully it'll rub up on the others and the smell o' its siblings will cover yer smell ere she returns."
When she hesitated, he almost expected her to refuse and insist on bringing the creature with her rather than risk it being abandoned by its mother. But after a moment, she heaved out a sigh and set the little ball of fur down in the center of its siblings. They all immediately shifted and jostled around until you couldn't tell which one she'd picked up. Apparently reassured that her smell should be eliminated or absorbed by them all, she then moved away from the nest and farther along the shore to peer at the water.
"'Tis a beautiful spot," she commented on a happy little sigh.
"Aye," Dougall agreed, following her. He then pointed along the river to the right where it curved out of sight. "There's a waterfall just around that bend. "
"Really?" she asked with interest, leaning out a bit as if she could crane her head far enough to see it. She couldn't, of course.
"Aye, 'twill offer privacy do ye wish to bathe there," he said, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from grabbing her arm to prevent her tumbling into the water. He just as quickly unclasped them and let his left hand hover near her arm to be prepared in case he did have to save her. When she didn't seem to notice and leaned even farther out, he gave in to his worry, caught her arm and turned to march her back to the horses. "But ye can attend to that later. Ye should eat now."
"But I'm no' hungry," Murine protested and his lips twitched. Honestly, she sounded like a child balking at being sent to her bed, he thought as she added, "Can I no' take a bath now?"
"Nay," he said, escorting her toward the fire his brothers were building. "Ye'll eat first, and this time ye'll no' get away with a couple bites. Ye'll eat proper and like it," he added firmly. The lass needed looking after and he was the man to do it, Dougall decided and when she didn't comment, was satisfied that it would be as he said.
"This is not privacy."
Dougall gave up scowling at the trees and turned to arch one irritated brow at the woman presently plaguing his life. Murine stood in the small clearing next to the waterfall, hands on hips, glaring at him as if he was the one being difficult. Him! When she was the one who would not do as he ordered and refused to eat until she'd bathed. She hadn't started to argue until they'd reached his brothers. She'd probably been thinking of what argument would best work, he thought. And find one she had. She'd claimed she could not possibly enjoy the delicious food with her own foul stench assaulting her nose. It would ruin her appetite.
Well, once she'd said that, Dougall's brothers had looked to him with alarm, a reaction he'd fully understood. Anything that threatened to take away her appetite was to be avoided, for they were sure that was the reason she kept fainting.
Dougall had given in and led her to the waterfall, intent on remaining in the clearing, near enough to rescue her should she faint and fall in. But it seemed she was taking issue with that as well.
He tried reasoning with her. "Ye can no' swim alone. 'Tis dangerous what with yer fainting all over the place."
"I do no' faint all the time," she said sharply. "I have fainted once since meeting ye."
Dougall raised his eyebrows in disbelief that she would make such a claim.
"All right, perhaps it has been twice," Murine said, blushing.
"Ye wer
"I was not. I told you I woke up several times while we were riding."
Dougall nodded. "And then fainted dead away again and again."
"I could no' breathe," she stressed impatiently, then shook her head with disgust. "This is stupid. All yer presence here does is make me uncomfortable. 'Tis no' as if ye would hear me drowning over the pounding water."
Dougall stiffened at the claim, recognizing the truth behind it. Lord knew they'd been practically yelling at each other to be heard over the rush of water.
"Very well," he acknowledged and promptly began to remove his sword and sporran.
"What are ye doing?" Murine asked warily.
"Undressing. Ye can no' swim alone. As ye pointed out I'd no' hear ye if ye faint and fall, so I shall swim with ye."
"Oh, nay!" she cried, rushing forward to catch his hands as Dougall reached to undo the pin that held his tartan in place. "I will no' swim naked with ye. Are ye mad?"
"Ye can wear yer shift," he said with a shrug, and then seeing her expression, asked with concern, "Surely ye packed another one in that bag o' yours?"
Murine bit her lip, but nodded. "Aye, I packed one."
"Good," he said, relaxing, and then pointed out, "Ye can change into it after ye bathe and leave the wet one to dry overnight. Both ye and yer shift'll be clean that way."
Murine grimaced, her shoulders drooping as she admitted, "I did pack one in the bag I brought with me, but my bag is missing. It must ha'e fallen off Henry as we traveled yesterday. I ha'e nothing else to wear."
"It didn't fall off," Dougall assured her. "I had Alick move it to the mare I brought yer brother."
"Oh." She looked so pleased and relieved at this news that Dougall didn't add that it had not been his own idea, but at Conran's suggestion.
Dougall glanced back the way they'd come as he considered the trek they would have to take to fetch her bag. The waterfall had been farther away from the clearing than he'd recalled, and the path through the woods to get here was overgrown, full of those damned thickets that seemed everywhere in this part of the country. They'd caught repeatedly at Murine's gown and slowed their walk to the point that Dougall had been ready to whisk her up in his arms to speed them along. Only Conran's little warning and the fact that she'd no doubt protest the action had held him back from doing so. He didn't care for the idea of making that trip again, twice, both to fetch her bag and then to bring it back, at least not with her hampering his speed.
Glancing back to Murine, he said, "If ye sit yerself down and promise to no' go in the water until I return, I'll go fetch yer bag fer ye."
"I promise," Murine said promptly, dropping to sit where she stood, a happy and excited smile claiming her lips.
The sight made Dougall pause. The lass was so damned beautiful when she smiled like that. Her full pink lips spread, her large blue eyes opened wider and a flush of color bloomed on her cheeks. She looked healthy and happy and so damned kissable.
That thought bringing him up short, Dougall scowled and turned abruptly.
"Stay out o' the water," he barked and then rushed from the clearing as if all the demons in hell were chasing him.
Murine smiled crookedly as she watched Dougall head out along the path. The man acted all stern and grumpy, but truly he was kindhearted under the crustiness. She was quite sure few men would have returned for her bag as he was doing, and his obvious concern for her was sweet. If he were in the market for a wife . . .
Murine pushed the thought aside and turned to peer over the clearing. It had been hard work to get here in her destroyed gown, but was well worth the effort. She didn't think she'd ever seen a spot as lovely.
Smiling faintly, she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers as she closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky. It was early enough that while the sun had started its downward journey, it was still shining brightly and she enjoyed its warm caress on her skin. In that beautiful spot, bathed in the sun's warm glow, she could almost forget her troubles and what a tangle her life had become.
Almost, Murine thought wryly as she lowered her head and opened her eyes again. That was when she spotted the figure in the woods. Murine had sat down facing Dougall, her back to the water, it left her a perfect view of the woods; otherwise she might never have seen whoever it was. She certainly hadn't heard anyone approach over the sound of the rushing water.
She got slowly to her feet and squinted at the shape she could just make out through the branches, trying to figure out who it was. Was it one of the Buchanan men looking for more game to cook? Or searching for wood? If so, why didn't they approach and say something? They must see her there looking at them.
Frowning, she took a step toward the woods.
"Ye were supposed to stay sitting. Ye promised."
Murine whirled at that barked comment to see Dougall returning with her bag in hand. The man was scowling at her for daring to get to her feet. Good Lord, while she appreciated his concern, he and his brothers all treated her like she was the frailest child in need of constant supervision, and Murine just wasn't used to such treatment. While her father had been concerned when she'd suddenly taken to fainting after her brothers' deaths, he'd been too distracted by her mother's failing health to hover. And certainly Montrose had never worried over her well-being. Having these men treat her like some weak, fragile creature was beginning to wear on her nerves.
"I did no' promise to stay sitting," Murine said mildly. "I promised no' to go in the water. Besides, I was just trying to sort out who--" She paused in her explanation as she turned toward where she'd spotted the figure in the woods and realized that whoever she'd seen through the trees was now gone. She frowned at the spot, and then shrugged and turned her attention back to Dougall as he paused in front of her.
"What were ye trying to sort out?" he asked, now looking into the woods as she had done a moment ago.
Murine just shook her head. She didn't want to get one of the brothers in trouble for spying on her, if they had even been doing that. They might have simply been out hunting wood, and stopped when they spotted her in the clearing.
"Thank ye." Murine took the bag he held.
"Ye're welcome," Dougall rumbled and then reached for the pin of his tartan.
Murine's eyes narrowed warily. "What are ye doing?"
"I told ye, ye can no' swim alone. Should ye faint--"
"But what will ye wear?" Murine asked, reaching up to cover his fingers and prevent his undoing the pin that she knew was the only thing holding his tartan in place. Once it was removed, the cloth would drop like a lady's dress, leaving him in only his shirt.
"Me shirt," he answered simply.
Recalling just how short his shirt was, Murine snatched her hands away and backed up, shaking her head violently. "I'll jest return to camp then," she said and turned toward the path they'd used to get here. "Ye go ahead and swim."
"What? Wait," he said, catching her arm as she started to turn away. "Ye were the one who insisted on bathing ere ye could eat."
"Aye, but I did no' expect ye'd join me, let alone that ye'd think to do so in nothing more than a shirt that barely covers yer treasures and is no doubt see-through when wet."
"Me treasures?" he queried with gentle amusement.
Murine flushed, but gave a weary shrug. "'Tis what Montrose calls his . . . treasures," she ended helplessly, and then added wryly, "The way he talks ye'd think they were made o' gold."
"He talks to ye o' such things?" Dougall asked with dismay.
"Nay," she said quickly, and then grimaced and admitted, "But when he's in his cups he brags about them to his men with little concern that I am present."
Dougall's mouth tightened and he said grimly, "He and I'll ha'e much to talk about when next we meet."
Murine's eyes widened and she swallowed down a sudden lump in her throat as she digested his words. She was touched that he was offended for her and wanted to confront her brother on her behalf. However, the truth was Murine was seriously hoping none of them ever encountered her brother again. In fact, shameful as it was to admit, she was rather hoping her poor luck when it came to family would strike again, this time taking her half brother from her. And that was not something she'd ever wished on anyone in her life ere this.
"I'll no' join ye in the water," Dougall said suddenly, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. She was just relaxing when he added, "But I will ha'e to watch ye while ye're in the water."
"But--" she protested and he cut her off.
"'Tis the way it has to be, lass," Dougall said firmly, "Do ye faint, ye could drown."
Murine sighed with frustration. This damnable fainting was making her life such a bloody misery, and she was becoming convinced that it really was her own fault. She supposed she'd run herself a little ragged after her brothers died, first looking after her mother, and then her father when he fell ill. Like her mother, grief had stolen Murine's appetite, but unlike her mother she hadn't fallen ill, she'd merely begun to faint, and usually at the most inopportune times. Unfortunately, she hadn't regained her appetite since. She just couldn't seem to find an interest in food, or much of anything else really.
That wasn't completely true, Murine acknowledged. She'd perked up a bit while with Jo, Saidh and Edith, and had even begun to eat more again at Sinclair. But after her father's death and moving to England, Murine had lost interest in pretty much everything once more. The tincture Joan had made for her had worked to stave off the fainting fits, but once it had run out, she'd started fainting again.
"Ye can swim in yer shift and I shall just watch here from the shore," Dougall bargained. "That way, if ye run into trouble I will ken it."
Murine stared at him silently for a minute and briefly considered arguing, but doubted that would matter. This was probably the best offer she would receive. If she wanted to bathe, and she really did, then she would have to accept his watching her.
"Very well," she murmured with resignation.
Apparently, Dougall had expected an argument. At least he looked surprised by her easy capitulation, but then he nodded and gestured to the bag she held. "Then get to it. I'm hungry."
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