The image of the bonny lass lying on her back taunted him. Her arms spread wide, hair the color of burnished gold tumbling over the tops of full creamy breasts encased in a rich green fabric.
The place where she’d torn her gown revealed the delicate turn of her ankle, a tantalizing glimpse that had caused his trews to tighten, as had the innocent flush that pinked her bonny face when her topaz gaze traveled his length.
Aidan’s grin turned to a frown. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? He couldn’t leave her alone in the woods, injured and unprotected. He pivoted on his heel, his forward motion brought to an abrupt halt by her wide-eyed gaze. Her luscious pink lips parted as though she meant to call him back.
He focused on the tree above her head before his trews grew any tighter. He cleared his throat, but the words came out on a low rasp. “I canna leave ye here, lass. I’ll take ye to yer kin.”
She peeked at him through the long, thick fringe of her lashes. “No, I can’t go back, not without—” She caught her full bottom lip between pearly white teeth before offering him a tentative smile. “But I will go home with you.”
He arched a brow. Many a lass had offered to go home with him, but not in the quiet, beseeching way she did. He’d been prepared for her to protest since only moments ago, in no uncertain terms, she’d sent him on his way.
Warily, he approached and crouched at her side. “I doona think yer family would approve. Now where is it ye hail from?”
With a defiant tilt of her chin, she folded her arms over her chest. “It doesn’t matter. I’m coming home with you.”
“Ye are, are ye?” His cock twitched, responding to her bold statement. Aye, a part of him was more than ready to take the lush, wee beauty home with him, to feel her beneath him. But despite what her words implied, he was certain she was an innocent. He should know; he’d had enough experience with women who weren’t. And that’s how he meant to keep it. Women like this one were meant to be admired from a distance, like the Minch in a storm.
The stubborn chit gave a jerky nod.
Getting his thoughts back to where they belonged, he rose to his feet. “All right then, but ye’ll tell me who yer kin are before the day is out. ’Tis no’ right leavin’ them to worry over ye.”
“They won’t,” she assured him, placing a dainty hand in his.
He pulled her to her feet and swept her into his arms before she could put any weight on her injured leg.
“What . . . what do you think you’re doing?” she sputtered.
Ignoring her, he strode to where Fin waited and placed her on the stallion’s back.
“Oh.” She smoothed her skirts into place, averting her gaze from his.
With one foot already in the stirrup, he was about to swing his other leg over when she gave him a hard shove. If he hadn’t had a good grip on the saddle, he would’ve landed on his arse. “Bloody hell, what was that for?”
“You forgot my deer. I’m not leaving without her.” She rolled onto her belly in an attempt to slide off Fin.
“Stay put.” His hand grazed her rounded behind as he grasped her narrow waist and placed her firmly upright. He didn’t miss her startled gasp, and if she happened to look down, he doubted she’d miss what that innocent touch had done to him.
Leaves scattered beneath his angry strides. Fool, that’s what he was for catering to her daft notions. He bent down and lifted the struggling animal into his arms, turning in time to see his men, Donald and Gavin, come crashing through the underbrush on horseback. Aidan scowled at their amused expressions, about to tell them what they could do with the comments they were bound to make. But they were too busy ogling the lass sitting astride Fin to bother with him.
He fought back a wave of possessiveness, the urge to plant his fist in their ugly mugs. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a fine pair of antlers sticking out from behind Gavin and winced.
“Donald.” He tried to gain the other man’s attention, intent on sending them on their way before the lass spotted the big buck strapped across the horse’s back. Never comfortable dealing with emotional women, he had every intention of avoiding a scene. With her head bowed, her fingers twisting in Fin’s mane, she’d yet to notice.
“Are ye no’ goin’ to introduce us to yer bonny wee friend?” Donald’s green eyes glinted with mischief.
“Later. Here, take her.” He placed the deer in front of Donald.
“Have ye lost yer mind? In case ye havena noticed, Aidan, she’s still alive, and,” he cried out, “kickin’.”
At a feminine cry, Aidan turned in time to see the lass scramble off Fin.
“I will not have her ride with those . . . those murderers.” Her furious gaze locked on the buck, she limped to his side.
He sighed and placed his hands firmly upon her shoulders. “No harm will come to yer pet. Ye have my word on it.”
He thought a man could be burned from the fiery glint in the topaz eyes she raised to his. “But they . . . he . . .”
“Provided food for our clan, somethin’ ye denied me the satisfaction of doin’.” He brought his face within inches of hers. “Somethin’ ye’d best no’ be remindin’ me of if ye ken what’s good fer ye.”
“Ye canna be serious, Aidan? I thought ye merely wished us to kill the beastie when we were out of the lass’s sight,” Donald protested as he struggled to keep the deer on his lap.
The lass let out an ear-piercing screech and lunged at Donald. Aidan grabbed her. With an arm around her waist, he anchored her to his chest.
“Let me go you . . . you, big ogre.” She stomped on his foot then yelped.
“Fiery wee thing, isna she?” Gavin observed.
“Aye,” Aidan muttered, waving them off. “Head fer home. I’ll be there shortly. Enough,” he growled in the delicate shell of her ear as she struggled to get away from him, the movement of her behind against his groin nearly more than he could bear.
Gavin caught his eye, his smirk letting Aidan know he saw he struggled with more than the lass. “Mayhap I should take her, and ye the buck. She doesna’ appear to like ye verra much.” He chuckled at the dark look Aidan shot him. “We’re leavin’, but doona take long or we’ll come back fer ye.”
Aidan swung her under his arm and stomped to his horse. “Mind where ye’re hittin’.” He grunted when her wee fists pounding on his thighs came too close for comfort.
None-too-gently, he set her on top of Fin. As he attempted to mount, the lass swung her foot, hitting the stallion instead of her intended target—him. Fin reared with an angry whinny, sending Aidan on his arse. Muttering his opinion of the troublesome wench under his breath, he stood to brush himself off. He glared at the termagant, but she was too busy comforting his horse to notice. Burying her face in Fin’s mane, she stroked his shiny black coat, murmuring her apology.
He raised a brow, surprised to see his temperamental mount respond to her gentle touch. Settling himself on top of Fin, he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her toward him. “No more of yer kickin’,” he muttered against her ear.
She stiffened in his embrace then straightened as though to put some space between them. Tapping his heel to Fin’s flank, the horse took off at a gallop.
“Oh,” she gasped when the movement pressed her body tight to his.
The wind whipped her long, golden locks against Aidan’s face. He transferred the reins to the hand that held her in place while he brushed her hair away with the other. He tucked the tresses between them, unable to resist winding the silken strands around his fingers.
“What are you . . . ouch,” she cried when she turned to look at him. Putting a hand to the back of her head, she glared at him. “That hurt.”
Her warm breath caressed his cheek. Sweet with a tantalizing hint of honey, it reminded him of the cakes Cook made for him and he fought the urge to taste her soft pink lips—explore the temptation of her bonny mouth. Her eyes widened and her lips parted as though she sensed the direction of his thoughts. She whip
ped her head around and tried to angle her body away from his.
Aidan chuckled and tugged her back into his protective embrace. “Ye’re cold, ye need my warmth.” He ran his hand down her arm, his roughened palm catching on her sleeve. He frowned, rubbing the rich material between his thumb and forefinger. Both the cut of the gown and the quality of its fabric bespoke wealth.
“Who are ye, lass, and where are ye from?”
“Pr . . . Syrena. My name is Syrena. Who are you?” She glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Syrena,” he murmured, finding her name as beautiful as she was. “I’m Aidan MacLeod.” Losing himself in the shimmering depths of her enchanting eyes, he nearly forgot the intent of his questions. He cleared his throat. “I ken I havena’ seen ye in these parts. I would’ve remembered.” It was the truth. She was not someone he’d easily forget. “Where is it ye’re from?” he repeated his question.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she looked out over the moors as though she were lost. “I don’t know.”
He frowned. Cupping her cheek in his palm, he forced her to look at him. “What do ye mean, ye doona ken? Did ye hit yer head earlier?”
She lifted her shoulder, eyes downcast. “Maybe.”
He ran his fingers through her hair and over her scalp, but found no bumps, no sign of injury. Growing suspicious, he asked, “Ye’re no’ a Lowlander, are ye?”
The Lowlanders were his sworn enemies, ravaging scavengers who bled his people dry at King James VI’s behest. If she was one of them, he’d have no choice but to hold her for ransom. His coffers were nearly empty, and coin for her safe return would go a long way in replenishing them. But he didn’t want to think she had anything in common with that rabble, or that she shared the Lowlander’s contempt for him and his people.
“What is a Lowlander?”
“A bunch of lowlife from the borders.”
“No, I’m certainly not one of them.” She gave a firm shake of her head.
His lips twitched. “Well, I canna think ye’re from around these parts. Like I said, I would remember ye, and the way ye speak ’tis str . . . unusual.”
“Is it? And here I thought your speech str . . . unusual.” Her lips curved in a smile that took his breath away, and right then and there Aidan decided he didn’t care who she was, she was his.
Now where the bloody hell had that come from?
The last thing Aidan wanted was to saddle himself with a woman, especially a woman of means who would expect marriage. His circumstances were too badly compromised to consider making such an offer. What with the constant fighting and raiding of the Lowlanders over the last few years, his coin was depleted, and the keep barely fit to live in.
But that was beside the point. He’d witnessed how destructive marriage could be. Women were not to be trusted, which was why he never stayed long enough with one to get attached.
After what his mother’s betrayal had done to his father, you’d think he would have learned his lesson, but nay, he had to find out the hard way. And find out he did. Lady Davina Scott, the one woman he thought he could trust, a woman he gave his heart to, had betrayed him with another.
Syrena rubbed her arms, and shivered. He gathered her to his chest and this time she didn’t protest. Instead, she turned toward him and snuggled close, folding her hands beneath her cheek. With a soft contented sigh, her eyes fluttered closed. The quiet sound caused Aidan to harden in his trews, and his mind turned to another way he’d like to keep her warm. The soft cries she’d make when he had her naked beneath him, when he was deep inside her.
Enough. This is madness.
He’d been too long without a woman was all. And he planned to rectify the matter as soon as he delivered the lass safely to her kin. Someone would claim her. As beautiful as she was, who would not? He ignored the tightening in his chest at the thought she belonged to another. He dug his heels into Fin’s flanks and urged the stallion to quicken his pace, determined to seek out the Widow Blackmore as soon as he saw the lass settled.
Fin trotted into the courtyard and Aidan viewed the overgrown grounds and ramshackle dwellings with a familiar surge of frustration. Their troubles with the Lowlanders were lessening, and he would soon have the time to begin the repairs required to set Lewes to rights. Aye, he knew he needed coin to do so, but somehow he’d find a way to deal with that as well. Turning his attention to the sleeping lass in his arms, he tried to wake her. The gentle shake to her shoulder failed to rouse her, and he shook her a little harder.
“Stop it, Evangeline,” she grumbled, slapping his hand away. She nudged her head against his chest as though she meant to burrow beneath his tunic. Her breath warmed his skin, fanning the flame of awareness that already burned deep in his belly.
“So, ye tamed the wee lass have ye, Aidan? I thought she might take longer than she did,” Donald remarked as he and Gavin sauntered toward him.
Aidan hesitated before he said, “I canna wake her, come give me a hand.” He gestured Donald over, better him than the lecherous Gavin.
“Ah, so that’s how ye did it. Knocked her out, did ye?” Gavin nodded his head as though he thought it a grand idea.
“Are ye daft, mon? She’s asleep is all. Have a care with her, Donald,” he admonished the gangly sandy-haired man. Barely had he placed her in his friend’s arms before he had her back in his. He ignored the knowing look the two men exchanged. “Did ye put her deer in the stables?”
“Aye, but old Tom is none too happy about it.”
Aidan adjusted her weight in his arms. “I’ll see the lass settled then have a word with him.” He shouldered his way through the doors of the keep with Donald and Gavin at his heels.
“Ye’re certain there’s nothing wrong with her, Aidan? I doona ken when I’ve seen a lass sleep like that.”
Gavin gave Donald a hardy slap to his shoulder. “Then ye’re doin’ it all wrong, mon.”
Donald rolled his eyes. “Nay, I’m more careful than ye is all. I doona ram their heads into the wall.”
“We did no more than ride home,” Aidan protested. He wouldn’t allow them to think he’d compromised Syrena’s innocence. “I think she may have hit her head.”
Donald’s brows bunched together. “’Twould explain her wantin’ to keep the beastie fer a pet.”
“Mayhap,” Aidan said, looking down at the angel in his arms. She was innocent and vulnerable, he had no business thinking the thoughts he’d been thinking. He took a quick look into the grand hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Beth or one of the other maidservants. But there was no one about. The hall was deserted.
“Where’s Lachlan?”
“A bunch of them left to raid the Lowlanders.” Gavin eyed him. “Was it no’ on yer orders?”
Aidan clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ached. His brother grew more rebellious by the day. He’d learned to accept as the day of Lachlan’s birth drew near he became reckless. But his behavior of late grew dangerous, and Aidan knew he had to put a stop to it before someone got hurt. “Ye ken full well I didna. Lachlan goes too far this time,” he grated out.
The lass stirred, drawing his attention. She yawned and rubbed her eyes, giving him a sleepy smile. “Is Lachlan here?”
Aidan stiffened. “How do ye ken my brother?” He didn’t keep the censure from his voice, not liking the tender look in her eyes when she asked after Lan.
Syrena’s eyes widened. Oh for the love of Fae. If his steely gaze was anything to go by, she’d given herself away. Taking refuge in the excuse he’d provided earlier, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Do you have to be so loud? My head aches.”
He narrowed his gaze, setting her on her feet. “I asked ye a question, Syrena. How do ye ken, my brother?” he repeated. A muscle twitched in the hard edge of his jaw.
“Aye, we’d be interestin’ in learnin’ that as well.” The tall sandy-haired man and his redheaded companion from the woods eyed her suspiciously.
She paid them no mind, knowing
it was Aidan who held her fate in his hands. “I knew someone named Lachlan, when I was younger.” She pretended nonchalance. Evangeline had warned her not to give away her identity, and Syrena planned on heeding her advice. She peeked at him through her lashes. “I would like to see my doe.”
He took hold of her arm. With a jerk of his chin, he sent the two men on their way, ignoring their grumbled protest. “Yer pet is bein’ seen to. Now answer me.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “I did. Like I said, Lachlan was someone I met a long time ago.” If only she hadn’t woken to the mention of her brother’s name. Despite her apprehension, she felt a spurt of relief that she’d followed her instincts and let Aidan take her to his home. She just wouldn’t think about the disturbing reaction she had to the man—a reaction that had only intensified when he held her in his protective embrace.
She averted her gaze from his, taking in the stone wall leading down a dark, dank corridor that listed dangerously inward. Her eyes widened. Several doors were hanging off their hinges and deep gouges marred the slate floor beneath her feet. The Fae’s stables were more habitable than this place. “Is . . . is this your home?” She hoped he didn’t take note of the horrified shudder that accompanied her question.
“Aye.” He arched a brow. “Is it no’ to yer likin’?”
“It . . . it’s very . . . big.” She curled her toes when a draught of damp air swirled about her feet. And ugly. And cold. The only time she’d been warm in this realm was in his arms. Unbidden, her eyes went to his broad chest and muscular arms. She barely caught the wistful sigh before it escaped from her lips.
His sensuous mouth quirked at the corner. “I should be offended.”
Her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No apologies necessary, lass. I’m no’ blind to how the keep appears to others. ’Twill take time, but I’ll have it back to the way it once was.” He looked about him before he returned his gaze to hers. “This Lachlan ye referred to, where was it exactly that ye met?”
In my mind. She swallowed a giggle as she pictured what his reaction would be if she said the words out loud.
Warrior of the Isles Page 5