Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy)

by Griffin, Kara

  “Why are you laughing, Gil?”

  “Nothing, Laird, I was thinking about something.”

  “What?” Brendan shoved him in a playful manner.

  “Uh, about a lady,” Gil lied.

  “You’re too green to be thinking about lassies,” Brendan teased him, shoving him again.

  Gil laughed again then mumbled, “I was too thinking about a lady, so I didn’t really lie, but I couldn’t tell my laird that.”

  Brendan grinned.

  Douglas hadn’t heard them, and rested beside a tree for the few hours before they forged ahead. He was thankful Brendan and Gil left him alone. Resigned to his thoughts, he watched her sleep. She didn’t move at all. She was still a young maiden with a purity that called forth a gentleman’s chivalry. However, her disposition changed considerably.

  He would never understand women. Hadn’t he been deceived before? Douglas had thought Morna was a gently-bred woman and look how she turned out. Nay, this lass was nothing like that harlot. He could never compare Isabel to Morna.

  But how had he been so deluded to think Isabel was a hellion? She didn’t act as she had before. Her appearance changed, extremely so, Douglas realized as he watched her from afar. He hadn’t slept a wink. In the dawning, only a short three hours later, he rose, readying to leave. It was a day to the border, and he wanted to reach safety quickly. England never pressed on him as it did now with Isabel present. Maybe he wouldn’t be so impatient or feel so petulant, once he reached Scotland and safety.

  Isabel continued to sleep soundly, and he asked Gil to awaken her, but Gil walked away before he finished his command. Damn Gil. Douglas knelt beside her, shaking her shoulder none too gently.

  Isabel woke and smiled. “Are we departing?”

  She stared at him, pressing her lips together, blushing so prettily. The vein pulsing in his neck alerted him to his impure thoughts.

  “Aye,” he whispered.

  The cover she’d used slipped below her waist when she sat up. Douglas glimpsed the curve of her breast beneath the ridge of her bliaut, and he instantly hardened. His breath ceased, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to gain control. He moved away before he acted on the feelings surging through him. He rose, quickly walking away, growing more indignant by the minute.

  Isabel looked lighthearted as she grabbed her satchel and walked toward a large bush. He was more than affected, he realized, when he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  This is going to be more difficult than I thought it’d be.

  Douglas waited beside the horses with Brendan and Gil. What took her so long? Women, he decided, would take as long as they wanted to, and had no care for those awaiting them. He gave a hard look at Brendan, who shrugged his shoulders.

  “Do you want me to get her, Laird?”

  Douglas didn’t reply, but when Gil started off toward the brush, he grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. “I’ll go, stay put,” he snapped.

  Gil laughed at him, and he shoved his shoulder again.

  Douglas went toward the bushes, and before he reached them, Isabel appeared. She wore a green overdress atop a cream-colored bliaut. An ermine fur-hooded brown cloak surrounded her shoulders clasped at her throat with a jeweled broach. The bodice of her fitted gown revealed ample breasts. Lord, she was endowed enough to cause his eyes to stray. His hand itched to touch her, his eyes moved to her face. Restraint, he reminded himself.

  Her glorious hair, pulled into a coif, gleamed. She must have found a stream and had washed. His breath caught behind his teeth, and his tongue felt swollen. He just about ceased breathing altogether. If his heart hadn’t thumped madly inside his chest, he’d wonder if he’d died and sighted an angel.

  The flaming color of her hair held him spellbound, and her hazel eyes twinkled with mischief. The color of her garments made her eyes appear even more greenish, and her face cleaned of its dirt, made her appear younger. Hadn’t she had freckles on her cheeks? Her flawless skin looked soft. He wanted to pull her in his arms and crush his lips to hers. The thought of his tongue against hers set his blood to heat.

  Aye, this ride home was going to the longest ride of his life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Isabel was surprised to find Douglas standing beside the bush when she exited the woods. She watched him peruse her, smiling widely. His handsomeness held her captive, and she didn’t want to move. She stared at his six-foot frame, almost a foot taller than she. His dark brown eyes reminded her of mahogany with a lighter shade surrounding the rim, with golden flecks sprinkling them. His jaw twitched, and she wanted to laugh, but she held herself circumspect.

  His well-made clothing fit perfectly, outlining his muscular build. He wore a loosely tied tunic and a sparse of chest hair peeked from the scoop of the shirt. The tartan wrapped so neatly around his waist, belted by a thick strap of leather, had an etched boar’s head on the buckle. She didn’t miss a single detail, taking her time memorizing every inch of him. Her face returned to his lightly whiskered chin. She longed to reach out and touch him, but she swore to be coy. If only she could act on her impulse. His hair glowed with the sun behind his shoulder, making him appear even more divine and invincible.

  She smiled when Douglas finally pulled himself from his trance, and cleared his throat.

  “Lady Calvert, we must go.”

  Isabel sighed before answering. “Aye, I know, Laird Kerr, I’m ready.” What a fabrication! She longed to stand there, staring at his magnificent form until the sun fell from the sky.

  Douglas took her hand, holding it firmly. His warm skin felt wonderful against hers. He pulled her to his horse, and assisted her atop. When she was settled, he mounted behind her and looked at his comrades.

  “We near the border. Be on alert.”

  Isabel held herself erect and wouldn’t relax against him. The journey became tiresome. She did long to lean against him, not because she was tired, but because his hard body beckoned her. Taking in the scenery before her, she hoped it would offer a distraction. Riding with him was too inviting. His closeness distracted her—the scenery was but a blur.

  He placed his arm around her, pulling her against his chest. Isabel gasped when he steeled his arm under her breasts. The feeling sent a flutter to her belly. Had he thought her tired? She hoped so. She didn’t want to show her true self, not yet. Playing the demure lady would be difficult. Isabel hadn’t been demure in years, and she wondered how she would pull the farce off.

  They stopped to rest several hours later, and Isabel slumped to the ground when Douglas assisted her from his horse. She’d come up with several ruses to pull along the way to make her appear more ladylike.

  Douglas knelt next to her. “Are you unwell? Do you need my assistance?”

  “Aye, please, I cannot make it over there.” Isabel pointed to a bush. She colored having to ask for his help, with his knowing where she was headed and why.

  He held her around the waist. They walked to the bush like lovers going off to have a secret liaison. She sighed, wishing it were so.

  “Are you all right now?”

  “Thank you.” Isabel looked at his face, only a few inches from hers. She breathed deeply, taking in his scent. If only she could throw her arms around his neck and never let go. Her eyes crinkled at the thought.

  Douglas leaned forward, and seemed tense or perturbed. She wanted to laugh aloud. Mayhap it was from riding with her. All he had to do was take her in his arms, but instead, he backed up and stood silent while waiting for her to move.

  When she was well hidden by the brush, she released her giggle. The man was too easy to fool, yet she wondered why he hadn’t brought up their previous meeting. Then, she’d been too bold and she knew he noticed. He hadn’t mentioned her behavior at her uncle’s home, and so she wouldn’t. After all, it had been two long years since they last saw each other.

  After taking care of her needs, she limped from the brush and sat on a rock.

  Douglas strode to her. “Wha
t’s wrong now, lass?”

  “I cannot seem to … my legs are numb.”

  He knelt beside her, pushing aside the fabric of her gown, and vigorously rubbed her calves. His strong hands caressed the backs of her legs, making her moan, not because he hurt her, but because she reveled in his touch. She placed her hand on his shoulder and groaned, hoping he would think she was sore. His beautiful eyes looked at her, but his jaw clenched. Warmth seemed to trickle inside her and bubble up, making her feel giddy.

  “Ah, that feels so wonderful.”

  Her legs relaxed, and he snapped, “Is that better?”

  “Aye, much.”

  Douglas rose and walked away. He looked at Brendan and Gil, as he passed by and scowled at them. Gil hooted with laughter, which seemed to make Douglas angry.

  “What’s funny now, Gil?” Douglas asked him.

  “Nothing, Laird, just thinking about that lass again.”

  “Stop thinking about that, and set your mind to protecting your laird.”

  Gil solemnly replied, “Aye.”

  She didn’t understand why Gil laughed at Douglas, unless he suspected her trickery. She wondered what lass Gil referred to, and hoped it wasn’t her. The man was quite nice, and seemed to be well-liked by his laird, and must have some skill to have been chosen to go on the trek with Douglas. Still, she needed to befriend him and Brendan if she would pull off the ploy.

  “Let’s go. Brendan, she’ll ride with you.”

  “Really, Douglas?”

  “Aye,” he shouted.

  He appeared to become more cross by the minute. She had to keep him on the edge until he admitted his attraction to her. Isabel kept herself from smiling. And darned if Brendan didn’t sound happy about her having to ride with him. Gil must have thought it funny, because he laughed again, and his laughter echoed off the trees.

  The men mounted, waiting for her. Isabel walked toward Douglas, hoping he’d changed his mind, but he shook his head. Brendan nudged his horse toward her, holding his hand down at her. Isabel’s eyes widened. Was she supposed to ride with him? Good God, she’d never survive it. She placed her hand in his, and was yanked up behind him.

  His rough demeanor didn’t fool her for a minute. Underneath his coarseness, Brendan was a gentleman. Though to look at him, you’d never know. His black hair and steel-grey eyes hid his gentle spirit. Though she knew Brendan was a toughened warrior, there was something about him that tugged at her heart, perhaps it was the sadness she saw in his eyes. She smiled, holding on for dear life. The man rode his horse as though fire trailed him, and she supposed he had committed enough sins to fear the fires below. Bouncing around, she thought her head would fall from her shoulders. Still, she found it comical and almost laughed a few times. Almost.

  Isabel rode with Brendan for the remainder of the day. She hoped that Douglas would take her back on his horse, but he didn’t seem affected by her riding with Brendan. He looked straight ahead as if he didn’t have a care about her. How would she attract him now?

  She spent the time thinking about her friend and how happy she would be to see Candace again. The last time was so sorrowful, what with her father dying. She wished she could have been there to provide comfort in her friend’s time of need, but now they shall have much time together.

  Isabel was relieved to know she was well away from England and her father, and especially her brother. Now, she could find her own happiness and live life without fear. Isabel didn’t need a warrior’s protection, but Douglas didn’t know that. He would find out sooner or later.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Douglas didn’t like her riding with Brendan one bit, but he couldn’t take her back now without Brendan or Gil commenting on it. He glanced at her and remembered how his hands rubbed her calves, how smooth and soft her skin felt, and how difficult it had been to walk away. A chore such as rubbing a woman’s calves would normally be enjoyed, but all he could think about was moving his hands upward. Aye, it was getting harder and harder to deny his attraction.

  He looked at Brendan, then back to Isabel. She appeared to be taken with his cousin, which made him cross. She held Brendan closer than she should have, settling her cheek against his back. He heard Isabel’s giggle and he seethed inside when her face cuddled against Brendan’s back. Damn Brendan. He admitted that he didn’t like her attention on another man, even if it was his own cousin. Jealousy such as he’d never felt, invaded him and made him unsettled.

  His eyes shot daggers at Brendan, but the fool concentrated on the path and hadn’t noticed. Douglas wanted to retrieve her, and have her arms hold him boldly, but he didn’t. Nay, he couldn’t give into his lustful imagination. She wasn’t the willful insolent woman he’d thought her to be. She was a sweet, gentle maiden who needed a warrior’s protection, he kept reminding himself.

  They continued riding north, and during the four days that Isabel rode with them, Douglas distanced himself. He retreated inside himself, hoping his attraction would abate. When they stopped on the fourth night, after riding a great stretch, he remained quiet. Isabel kept to herself too, and watched Gil making a large fire.

  “I’m going to hunt for food.” Gil walked away before anyone could comment.

  Douglas watched Brendan eying her when Isabel sat between them. Their silence seemed to make her uneasy, and she tinkered with her satchel. The night had grown chilly, and she’d wrapped her cloak around her shoulders. The farther north they rode, the colder the climate became. He’d thought to tell her that, but since he’d kept his distance, he hadn’t. He dismissed her, and peered into the fire, trying to concentrate of the licks of flames.

  When Douglas looked up, he found Brendan watching him with amusement.

  “This reminds me of when we traveled with Colin. Remember when we tried to get him to admit his feelings for Julianna? Maybe you should think about that.” Brendan rose. “I’m going to assist Gil in the hunt.”

  Douglas scoffed. He wasn’t about to admit anything. He heard Brendan laugh as he walked away. Had he left him so he’d have to speak to her? Douglas denied his attraction to the lass, and he realized Brendan knew. Whenever they visited home or other clans, he’d always enjoyed women. Hadn’t he talked of marrying? He snuffed the thoughts, and watched his cousin disappear into the forest.

  Douglas noticed Isabel opening her satchel and retrieving a comb. She ran it though her hair, wrapping the length in a bun, securing it with a tie. He looked up at the sky, staring at the flickering stars. The night air felt good. He longed to remove his tartan, and feel its crispness against his skin, but with the lass present he kept it on. Besides, if he removed it, it would likely lead to … he shook his head. Breathing in the fresh scent of heather and pine, he tried to abate his longings. On the morrow, he could hand her over to his sister.

  The journey had become burdensome and almost painful. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman for sometime. He thought about the time when he’d traveled to England with Brendan in search of a wife. He’d postponed marrying considering what Morna subjected him to, and because of his father’s death. He hadn’t given the matter deliberation since. Clan matters overwhelmed him, and he hadn’t attended to personal affairs. It felt good having responsibilities, and to be needed by his people. He had forgotten how bored he’d been then and how he’d longed for a lady of his own who would bring joy to his life, like his cousin Colin had with Julianna.

  But Isabel was Candace’s friend, and he wouldn’t dishonor her. Being close to her these past days made him addled. His discipline lay in shreds. If only she wasn’t his sister’s friend, he’d have her under his plaid and would claim her. Aye, he would use his charm to convince her of his earnestness. His body stirred, unjust thoughts raced through his mind. She was indeed fair game. Hadn’t his sister said they’d promised to attend each other’s weddings? Since his sister hadn’t gone to hers, he assumed she wasn’t married, but she wasn’t his for the taking. He would keep his distance until he could deliver her into hi
s sister’s arms.

  Douglas hadn’t slept much since she joined the jaunt, and when he had, he’d dreamt of her. He longed to rid himself of his desire, thinking it, the only way to cool his fire. Deep in thought, he didn’t notice that she watched him. The ambiance of the night sky did little to soften his expression. He realized that he scowled like the devil, and softened his face.

  “Laird Kerr, are you unwell?”

  “Nay, why do you ask?”

  “You look cross. Are we in hostile territory?”

  He shook his head. “I’m just thinking about clan matters.”

  She smiled. “Oh, are we close to arriving?”

  Her soft voice pulled him from his ruminations. He looked at her lips, wondering if they were as soft as he remembered. Would that he could taste her once more. He’d like to unbind her hair, and feel it run though his fingers again. His mind reeled with visions of their kiss.

  “Uh … we’ll reach my land on the morrow. Are you anxious to get there?”

  “Most definitely, riding has been hard. I’m not used to such strenuous activity.”

  “That’s certain,” he thought aloud.

  He wanted to taste her—it was only a kiss, and he wouldn’t ravish her, he swore. He couldn’t take his eyes off her lovely mouth. Her eyes seemed to watch him in return; she licked her lower lip, which made him tense. She swayed when he pulled her into his arms. He settled his mouth on hers, caressing her lips with his tongue.

  Douglas groaned, then deepened the kiss, and trained her tongue to move in the sensual motion that he liked. Aye, her lips were soft as a bairn’s cheek. His control faltered when her arms slipped around his neck and held him tightly. Her sweet tongue heightened his aching need.

  Isabel melted in his embrace. He could feel her breasts pressed against his hard chest. His senses came alive, and he was thrilled by the awakening that she’d spurred. Douglas shifted to pull her closer. The little sounds from her throat intensified his lust, and he became consumed with his intention. His control completely vanished. Nothing mattered but the woman now held in his arms.