by Sabrina York
“Aye, we do. ’Twould be wrong to leave you here to fend for yourself. Alone.”
Kate blinked. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words eluded her. She was a sister to many brothers. An army of them. Not one of them had given a fig for her well-being. No one had. No one ever had. No one but Elise.
It was a tantalizing prospect. Men. To protect them as they traveled.
But she couldn’t trust them.
Could she?
She eyed both of them again, trying to see past the physical presence to the men beneath. Could they be trusted to whisk them to the north as they said?
It was impossible to tell. Her heart wanted to believe them, but her mind knew better.
“Who are you?” Elise had the presence of mind to ask. She was always the logical one, which Kate appreciated. At the moment, she was obviously not thinking clearly. Most notably since she had, for an instant, considered having faith in him.
“I’m Kirk,” he said, setting his palm on his heart—and she fixated on that chest. “This is my cousin Brodie.”
“And what are you doing here?”
Kirk shrugged. His shoulders were enormous. “We had business with Laird Killin.”
Kate’s stomach roiled.
Elise’s pallid smile was now pinned to her face. “Did you?”
Brodie scowled. “We’re leaving empty-handed. The bastard has cheated us.”
Kate tried not to snort. She could have saved them a trip, had she known them. Her father cheated everyone. Judging from their disgruntlement, they deplored Cuithbeart Killin almost as much as she did.
Perhaps it would be safe to travel with them.
The thought sent an unexpected thrill through her, but she brutally silenced it.
“And what clan do you hail from?” Elise asked.
Kirk tipped his head to the side and smiled. It was a charming smile, one Kate wanted to sink into, but his words devastated her. “Rannoch. I am the brother of the laird.”
Ach! It was the worst thing he could have said.
For this man, this beautiful, alluring, tantalizing man, who might have been her salvation, was not. He was the man who had been sent to Killin Keep to collect her and deliver her to the fiend she was doomed to marry. He was the brother of the most evil laird in Scotland.
He was, in fact, her worst nightmare.
Chapter 5
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 doub
t, 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.
Chapter 6
Kate was utterly unprepared to ride with one of these warriors. Once the men had packed up, the behemoth mounted his horse and thrust his hand down to her.
She hesitated—of course she did. For one thing, way up there, he seemed even larger, looming as he was. The thought of bolting into the woods whipped through her mind, but she knew she could never outrun his horse.
Besides, this was hardly the time for escape.
When she didn’t take his hand in a timely manner, Kirk Rannoch narrowed his eyes and made a noise in the back of his throat, something like a growl.
Annoyance roiled in her belly. She disliked being growled at. Especially when she was doing something that made the little hairs on her neck stand up to begin with.
So she set her chin, narrowed her eyes, and growled back.
He blinked, as though she’d surprised him. “Come along, lass,” he said in a slightly gentler tone. “This beast is perfectly safe.”
Och, aye, the horse was perfectly safe. But was he?
Drawing in a deep breath, she took his hand.
He whipped her up with an alacrity and strength that made her head spin. Good glory, he was strong. But that thought quickly faded as another sensation flooded her.
She’d expected him to lift her up behind him in pillion, but he did not. Rather, he settled her in front of him, with his beefy arms around her and her side pressed against his chest. Though she wasn’t sure which would have been worse, being forced to cling to him to keep her seat, or this. Because, with both her legs to one side, with his hot breath caressing her cheek, it was much harder to ignore his presence.
With every move, he brushed against her and, to her horror, she pressed against him. To be specific, her breast pressed against him.
His scent surrounded her and his heat scalded her. His gaze burned her as well.
She commanded herself to be brave and met his gaze. “This is not comfortable,” she said, and he chuckled.
Chuckled.
She had the sudden savage urge to poke him with something sharp. Her elbow was the sharpest thing within reach.
“Oof,” he said, and frowned at her. And then, to her utter mortification, he readjusted her. As though she were no more than a bale of thistledown, he took her by the waist and lifted her, and shifted her to a more front-facing position. While it was mortifying to be treated like baggage, this position was better. For one thing, she could stare forward without his bulk dominating her consciousness and she could lean away from him so they did not touch from neck to waist.
For some reason, he chuckled again. “Are we ready?” he asked no one in particular, and then he whipped the reins and the horse leaped forward.
Surprised and unready, she was thrown back against him.
She had no doubt that he’d spurred the horse wildly for just this result.
Determinedly, she peeled herself off him and attempted to sit as straight as she could. It took far too much effort to keep herself apart from him.
As they pounded down the road away from Killin Keep, she became more relaxed in his presence. She would hardly admit that she appreciated the support of his body, or that his arms around her made her feel…safe. But as her ease with his proximity increased, the knot in her belly began to relax.
Certainly, it was annoying that she and Elise had been caught, and more aggravating still that it had been these men who had found them. But there was no doubt in her mind that Kirk Rannoch would prove to be an adequate protector.
Traveling with such a powerful warrior had its distinct advantages.
Her certitude wavered when the horse took a ragged step and Kirk set his hand on her waist to steady her…and didn’t remove it.
At first, she strove to ignore the unwelcome touch, the warm imprint of his hand on her side, and she did quite well. But then, his thumb moved. Just a slight twitch, nothing untoward, but she felt it to her core. She sucked in a deep breath and stilled. Surely it had been an involuntary tightening on his part. Surely—
But no. He stroked her again. And this time there was no denying it had been intentional.
She whipped her head around and stared at him. His lips, lush and beautiful, quirked. He lifted his brow.
Oh, good glory. Was he flirting with her?
Setting her teeth against the expletives she wanted to spew forth, she returned her gaze to the road ahead, but her mind was all awhirl.
Kate had spent her life in Killin Keep, surrounded by men who had no respect for women. More than once, she’d had to fight her way out of an unpleasant situation. More than once, she’d been groped by one of her father’s minions. Beyond that, the men of her experience were boorish and inebriated. Kirk Rannoch, for all the horrors she’d heard about his clan, was none of these things.
His gentle touch was almost a request. An invitation, rather than a crude fondling.
And despite herself, she liked it.
She liked him.
She liked the way his features were arranged in such a pleasing way. From the bold slice of his noble nose to the blue eyes fringed in long lashes. She liked the cut of his jawline and the dimple in his chin. And that his neck was thick and muscled and his shoulders were broad.
She liked the way she felt
in his arms. She liked the feel of his heat surrounding her. And mostly, she liked his scent. It was a mixture of leather and sweat and something indefinable that made her want to draw it in and fill her lungs with him.
She’d never had the urge to sniff a man before and she wasn’t quite sure what to think of it. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of any of this.
When they stopped for a midday break, Kirk dismounted first and then reached up to help her down. She couldn’t help noticing they were nearly eye to eye.
“How are you faring, lass?” he asked as he set his hands on her hips.
“Well,” she said, though the word came out in a croak. Probably because she was thirsty. What other reason could there be?
“Excellent.” He eased her down, but slowly, allowing her body to rub against his. All the while, he held her gaze. “Most excellent,” he whispered.
Good glory. How could a man, with so few words, cause such a flurry in her chest?
As she stared at him, drowning in the azure of his eyes, he smiled, and then released her. She nearly collapsed because her knees would not hold her and, to her mortification, she clung to him.
His chuckle—which had somehow become a delightful sound—floated around her. “It’s been a long morning. Give yourself a moment to adjust.”
“Aye,” she said, and, though she was still wobbling a bit, made her way to the log where Elise sat.
Brodie brought them a flask of ale, and they drank greedily.
“What a morning,” Elise said after Brodie moved off to rifle in his bags for something to eat.
Kate shot her a speaking glance. “At least we’re far from Connor.”
“One hopes.” It was hard to believe their half brother would let them go so easily, but perhaps he’d believed the lie Kate had fed to one of her sisters, that she and Elise had plans to travel south, to Glasgow.
“He’s a handsome one,” Elise said, nodding to Kirk.
Kate frowned at her. For some reason Elise’s comment irked her. “Did you want to change partners?”
Her sister threw back her head and laughed. “Nae. Of course not.” Of course not? “You are missing my point.”