The Protector

by Allison Butler

  ‘I wish you nae harm.’

  His shout brought her to her senses.

  ‘Then leave me—’

  Her horse stumbled. She faced forward. No, not now. Don’t slow. She must never give—

  A strong arm snaked about her waist. Mairi lost her breath. Her shocked gaze dropped and caught sight of a tanned forearm a moment before she was plucked right out of her saddle.

  Chapter Two

  Duff lifted and pulled the slender form toward him. The woman’s back softly collided with his chest, her long legs draping over his right knee. His blood was high from the swordfight and the chase, but as the rounded curves of her bottom wedged between his open thighs, his pulse spiked another notch.

  The sweet smell of flowers from her long braid filled his senses. How long had it been since he’d held a woman this close and discerned her scent?

  A sharp blow to his ribs halted his breathing and his wayward thoughts.

  He dropped the reins, guiding Duncan with his knees. He caught the next jab aimed for his ribs in the palm of his hand. ‘I wish you nae harm,’ he said against the silken hair brushing his mouth.

  She stilled a moment, then resumed her attempt to separate the flesh from his arm circling her waist. Her actions at the onset of the chase, and now, confirmed she wasn’t one to swoon at the first sign of danger. She also didn’t give up easily. Admirable traits to be sure, but …

  Duff tightened his hold about her and with a gentle squeeze of her elbow said, ‘You are safe n—’

  ‘Take your hands off me.’

  Duff stiffened as his words of reassurance were cut short by her stinging command. It took him exactly two full breaths to ease the tension riding his shoulders. Many men would be offended by her arrogance, but she’d just been pursued by two men and was obviously more frightened than he’d initially believed.

  Fear did strange things to people.

  He loosened his hold. ‘You have nothing to f—’

  ‘I said, take your filthy hands off me.’

  This time, there was no mistaking the sound of open disdain in her tone. The skin at the back of his neck rippled and gathered as he searched for reasons why.

  She must think I am one of them.

  He’d emerged from the valley where the mercenaries had been. He’d pursued her. Caught her.

  He released her arm and gave Duncan the signal to slow. ‘I won’t hurt you. I’m not one of them.’

  ‘Prove it,’ she challenged. ‘Let me go.’

  Duff loathed the thought of proving himself to anyone. He couldn’t simply give his family name to win her trust. He didn’t have one. Being reminded of his failed quest only upped his crushing disappointment and darkened his mood. Those who knew him knew him as a man of honour. But he didn’t have the time it would take to prove it to the arrogant beauty he’d just rescued.

  Instead, he cupped her elbow and stated the obvious. ‘If I let you go, you’ll fall.’

  She pulled her arm out of his grasp. ‘Better to risk injury—’

  ‘And when the rebels return,’ he cut her off and caught her elbow a third time. ‘Who will save your bruised and broken—?’

  ‘I won’t need to be saved, just as I did not need saving now.’ Her chin lifted regally. ‘I am able to defend myself.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said, testing his bruised ribs. ‘But you should not have to.’

  A stillness settled upon her, like the air moments after the deafening rumble of rolling thunder and moments before jagged lightning split the sky.

  Had he touched on a delicate truth?

  ‘Have you nae husband to see you safe?’ he said, leaning forward. Her body bowed like a reed in the wind as his chest pressed against her upper back. ‘Nae father, nae brother to—’

  A breathless gasp escaped her at the precise instant he grasped the dropped reins. He pulled back. Duncan’s pace slowed further to a quick walk. Duff straightened, but not swiftly enough to suit the woman, who assisted his efforts by pushing against him using her stiff shoulders.

  Once upright, he loosened his hold about her middle but didn’t remove his arm.

  She turned her head, affording him a glimpse of the face of an angel. In a low, lilting Highland voice she said, ‘My father is a powerful man. He will smile his broadest smile when he sets you to swing from the highest bough.’

  Duff’s brow lifted.

  ‘Unless my seven-foot husband tears you apart with his bare hands.’ A note of triumph had entered her voice.

  Duff’s brow crashed down.

  ‘But if one of my nine enormous brothers should reach you first—’

  ‘Enough threats, lass.’ A simpleton would understand her implications. Duff simply didn’t believe her. ‘If you have so many oversized, protective men to guard you, why is it none are here now?’

  ‘They …’ She turned her face away, leaving him with only the memory of full lips and the defiant set of her jaw. ‘They are busy men and have important tasks that need their attention far more than the welfare of one woman who is beyond capable of caring for herself.’ Conviction crept in with every spoken word, strengthening her tone. Her chin resumed its stubborn angle, banishing any trace of vulnerability.

  Every muscle in his body tensed as he fought to keep his arms from enfolding her in a protective hold. ‘Where is the older man you rode over the rise with?’ Frustration swelled. ‘He should have stayed with you. Is he your father?’

  This woman needed protecting. If she were his …

  ‘If you value your life,’ she said softly, ‘I suggest you let me go.’

  Her voice cut into his thoughts. Did the woman have an endless supply of threats?

  He dragged in a calming breath. The anger holding his shoulders hostage eased as he exhaled. In that precise moment he recognised the matching tension gripping his mount. Duncan had almost come to a halt. And Duff had been so consumed with annoyance for this lone, fierce, vulnerable woman he’d lost touch with his surroundings.

  Duff tore his gaze from the woman’s delicate jawline and scanned the landscape before him.

  He’d let a bonnie face and a strong spirit distract him. Weaken him. He never lost touch with the here, the now. Never! It was one of the traits he possessed that made him a skilled warrior.

  One of the traits that kept him alive.

  Naught moved in his line of sight. Even the woman’s black horse had stopped on the edge of the valley’s rim, reins dangling, tail swishing.

  While nothing sinister visibly lurked before him, danger could still hover behind. Danger that could have reached out an ugly hand and plunged a blade between his unguarded shoulder blades.

  The skin at the centre of his back prickled as if in harmony with his thoughts.

  Too late he heard the scuff of a horse’s hoof, the creak of leather.

  Too late he felt cold steel against his neck.

  ‘Ah, daughter,’ said a gravelly voice in Duff’s ear. ‘It seems the man values his life not at all.’

  Rage knifed within Duff’s chest. Rage at himself for not sensing the man’s stealthy approach. The woman still locked in his arms dragged in a long breath.

  ‘Release me,’ she demanded.

  Duff inhaled a deep breath of his own. ‘I will help you to the ground, then release you.’

  She peered over her shoulder but didn’t look him in the eye. ‘Have you forgotten my father holds a sword to your neck?’

  ‘Nae.’ How could he? ‘I also remember you stating how your father will smile broadly while I swing, so I do not fear his sword.’ His quiet words teased the soft hair at her temple.

  ‘Everyone should fear the sword.’

  She’d spoken so softly, he’d only just deciphered what she said when she again demanded her release.

  ‘Let me go!’

  ‘I will help you down, then release you.’

  ‘I do not need your help.’

  ‘But I insist.’

  He pressed his chest into her
upper back, while the splayed fingers of his free hand palmed the base of her spine, guiding her, forcing her bottom out from the cradling gap between his thighs. She clutched his arm still encircling her waist. Every muscle hardened beneath her hold. Her legs slid down over the top of his right thigh. His breath fanned her ear.

  Her fingers dug deep into his forearm while he carefully lowered her. He almost had her at a safe to release height when she once again issued a command.

  ‘Let. Me. Go.’

  Gritting his teeth at the unnecessary order, he relaxed his hold about her. The moment her feet touched the ground, she took several swift, long strides away from him.

  Duff straightened in his saddle and met her narrowed glare. Her dark blue, challenging stare. His gut tightened at the beauty of her heart-shaped face as a whole. Creamy, smooth skin over high cheekbones. A small, delicate nose and rose-coloured lips were set above a determined chin and surrounded by wheat-coloured hair splashed by the sun’s warm glow.

  No wonder she threw orders about with such ease. Most men likely fell over their feet in their haste to run and do her bidding.

  Duff wasn’t most men.

  To prove to himself her beauty had no effect on him he relaxed, only to feel the cold bite of steel against his neck. A reminder of where he was for the second time this day and it wasn’t yet noon. Self-anger caused every muscle in his body to turn rigid, but he masked his emotions and continued watching the woman who made him forget who he was without even trying.

  ‘Father.’ The single word sounded like an announcement rather than a greeting.

  ‘My daughter is an excellent rider.’ Pride echoed in the rough-hewn voice that sounded from close behind. ‘Yet you caught her. Impressive.’

  The daughter peered to where her mount stood grazing off to the side and mumbled something about ‘luck’ before looking back at her father. Despite the blade at his throat, Duff almost smiled at her displeasure.

  ‘Without your intervention, the outcome of today’s attack may have been very different,’ the man said.

  His daughter’s attention sharpened. She hadn’t been present at the onset of the attack so didn’t know the part Duff had played. Would she look at him differently once she understood?

  ‘I appreciate your assistance,’ her father continued. ‘And I admire your skill with your weapon.’ The beauty’s dark blue eyes briefly glanced at Duff and appeared to further narrow in distaste. ‘Is risking your life for strangers something—?’

  Expressive blue eyes widened. ‘Strangers?’ She said, cutting her father off. ‘We are not strangers here, Father. He is the stranger.’

  ‘Calm, daughter.’ Leather creaked from behind. ‘Do you often risk your life for people you don’t know?’

  ‘You needed help. I gave it.’

  ‘Why?’ The beauty demanded, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every quick breath.

  How could he explain the urge to strike at something because he’d failed to discover who he was? ‘Because I could,’ Duff replied.

  ‘You expect me to believe you risked your life to help my father and his men and expect nothing in return?’

  In return he’d gained a form of justice, but these people didn’t need to know. ‘You are free to believe what you will.’

  ‘Is your need to strike others down so great—?’

  ‘Daughter, I believe our thanks are in order,’ her father interrupted.

  Despite looking like she had more to say on the matter, she held her silence and glared harder at Duff.

  ‘And I don’t have time to linger,’ her father said, guiding his horse alongside Duff’s. ‘I am Alastair Gordon, Laird of Clan Gordon. This is my daughter, Mairi.’

  Mairi. A bonny name for a beauty. Duff acknowledged Mairi with a nod but drew his gaze back to study the man who had been set upon by two of the rebels and no longer held him at sword point. At first glance, thick, white shoulder-length hair added years to Alastair Gordon’s appearance, but on closer inspection the tanned skin moulding his cheeks and the alertness in the blue eyes his daughter had inherited lessened Duff’s initial guess at the man’s age. Fifty years at most, but—

  ‘After this morn’s work, I am in your debt.’ Alastair offered his hand. Duff accepted.

  ‘Father, please,’ Mairi said quietly.

  Alastair studied his daughter. ‘The man came to our aid.’ A hint of steel strengthened the laird’s voice. ‘Yet you disparage him before he has had the chance to introduce himself.’

  ‘He …’ Uncertainty laced the small pause that followed. ‘Then I look forward to knowing who he is.’

  I don’t know.

  Duff stared at Mairi Gordon, loathing the truth of her words. Those who knew him knew he didn’t know his origins. They also understood how much of a burden not knowing was for him. Having this one beautiful, arrogant woman know he was a bastard abraded his pride. He only knew she’d never learn the truth from him.

  ‘I am Duff Elliot of Clan Elliot in the Borders.’ The small lie fell from his lips as easily as if it were the truth. He was after all an honorary Elliot, and Duff was sure Lachlan wouldn’t mind. But still it irked. He tried to shrug it off. He’d helped them in the attack and was leaving for the Lowlands. He’d never see them again.

  ‘You are far from home, Duff.’ Alastair’s tone held a hint of curiosity, quickly smothered by his next words. ‘And I am grateful for it.’

  Duff gave a single nod. ‘I am glad to have been of service.’

  ‘Good,’ Alastair said, ‘For I would ask another boon.’

  Duff’s curiosity lifted.

  ‘You have rescued my daughter once already—’

  ‘I did not need rescuing,’ Mairi quietly interjected.

  ‘—And I would ask that you escort her home.’

  ‘Father, I do not need—’

  ‘Two of my men have been wounded,’ Alastair continued, cutting off his daughter’s words. ‘I need to go back and help escort them to Castle Gordon. It’s not far. The rebels have run, but could return. My main concern is my daughter’s safety. I’d appreciate your assistance.’

  ‘You have it,’ Duff said without hesitation.

  ‘Who, Father?’ Mairi took a step toward her sire.

  Alastair’s mount sidestepped. ‘Nairn and Balfour.’ He looked at his daughter. ‘Mairi, tell Tavie of the wounded and to prepare. Send Iain and three others to meet us. With God’s grace we’ll nae be long behind you.’ Alastair turned his horse. ‘I know my daughter is safe with you, Duff. Again, you have my thanks.’ With a nod, the Gordon laird rode off the way he’d come.

  Duff turned to the face the woman who’d declared she hadn’t needed rescuing, the woman he’d promised to escort safely home.

  ***

  Gordon blood had been spilt.

  Mairi’s stomach heaved and plunged like a brittle leaf buffeted about in a fast-running stream. Dear God, Balfour. He’d urged her to go, and had sacrificed his safety to protect her. He’d done his duty as she must do hers. She fisted her hands and strode toward her horse, away from her unwanted escort.

  She could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t like strangers. Hadn’t had to deal with any since … She blanked out the thought before it could fully form. This stranger frightened her, because he intrigued her. A dangerous combination.

  The only thoughts filling her head should be about the wounded. But she mustn’t show her concern for them. Concern was a weakness. Weaknesses should be kept hidden. Especially from an intriguing stranger.

  She lengthened her stride. Her horse lifted its head. The sooner she reached home, the sooner Tavie could prepare to tend Balfour and Nairn. The sooner dark-haired Duff could be on his way and she would marry for her clan.

  The three men her father deemed worthy would be arriving in the morning. She knew all of them, though none of them well. But at least they weren’t complete strangers. She’d choose a husband from among them. Her duty.

  Slowing her pace, she rea
ched for the dangling reins.

  ‘Mistress Gordon, I’ll help you mount.’

  Mairi jumped at the sound of Duff’s husky voice, so close. Her nape tingled. She glanced over her shoulder. When had he dismounted? ‘I don’t—’

  Palms settled about her waist, robbing her of breath, stealing her denial. Instinctively, her hands covered the back of his. She faced forward as her feet left the ground. She lifted her right leg over her horse a heartbeat before she was lowered into her saddle.

  The heat of his skin seeped into her hands and created an odd sense of security.

  The fingers beneath hers moved.

  What was she doing?

  She released her hold. That she’d needed prodding to let go of his hands annoyed her. Shocked her. He was a stranger. She should fear him. Part of her did, but something about him mesmerised her.

  His penchant for doing what he pleased rather than what she asked was surprising and unsettling. His strong, wide chest and his dark, shoulder-length hair were distractions she could ill afford, but not as distracting as his generous mouth that even a heavily shadowed jaw failed to conceal. His scent, fresh pine, leather and man, made her want to draw a never-ending breath. Just the sight of him …

  She had to stop looking at him. She had to ensure he didn’t touch her again.

  Mairi straightened in her saddle and realised her hands were empty. She’d forgotten to collect the reins.

  Heat filled her cheeks. How easily he made her look the fool.

  The man was a danger to her peace of mind. She had a duty to her father and to her clan and had no time for the unfamiliar and unwanted distractions this man named Duff aroused. His noble acts must end. She must see it done.

  She drew a long, deep breath and prepared to offer him a set-down in exchange for the reins he held in his large hands.

  Thick, sooty lashes lifted. Warm, dark brown eyes locked with hers. Mairi’s heartbeat doubled. Oh, God.

  Duty!

  In a firm voice she said, ‘The women of the Borders may need help to mount their horses, I do not.’ She peered down her nose at him. ‘Though unlikely, if I need your assistance, I will ask for it.’