Capturing The Reluctant Highlander (Lasses 0f The Kinnaird Castle Book 3)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Troy laughed at Ruth’s sharp intake of breath. “Troy Ferguson, you are a cad.”

  He leaned in slightly to whisper in her ear. “Aye, and ye are a bewitching maiden, looking rather bonny in that white dress of yorn.” Troy didn’t know what was coming over him, but he enjoyed the easy confidence he felt with her, and his roguish self was returning, and he was sure his slight flirtations would not be waved away. Ruth paused in her steps, and Troy could see that her chest was heaving slightly faster than it had been before.

  Ruth turned her body, so that she was facing him entirely, her hands behind her back, a large grin on her face. So he hadn’t scared her off after all. “Well, I suppose that my wish came true then. To have one day with the power to bewitch someone, maybe even a someone whose lack of belief in women’s abilities would make him a rather difficult victim to put under a spell.”

  She was smiling gleefully at her own wit, and Troy laughed out loud at her enjoyment of her own joke. He still felt a little sad though, at her misunderstanding of his original comment. Maybe today would be the chance to set that wrong right. He opened his mouth to speak and was hurriedly interrupted by a crowd of people cheering, heading for the gaming area.

  The two of them were separated briefly and couldn’t hear each other over the volume of the crowd. “I suppose I’ll head tae the games and see my competition more closely,” Troy was able to yell through. “Come and watch me become the victor if ye like.” And with a smile, he turned around, heading along with the crowd and away from Ruth.

  Ruth exhaled slowly, letting the heat of the moment pass with her breath. She couldn’t stop smiling. Ever since she spotted him about to unsheathe that beautiful god-like body of his in the light of day once more, a stupid smile was plastered on her face, and even when she attempted to put her mouth into submission, the corners of her mouth were still upturned.

  That man. That gorgeous, infuriating Scotsman was going to drive her wild. She knew today would be like this. Her struggling not to appear overeager in her desire to watch him, to spend time with him, to talk to him, all the while secretly hoping he would pull her to him and place his beautiful mouth on hers. She wanted to feel his hard body with her hands, and this time, she hoped she could feel the skin as well. What would the skin of a man feel like? Rough and work-worn? Or smooth and silky, like glass?

  She wandered about the festival, not really seeing anything, except for a torso of hard muscle in her mind’s eye. Then she was woken from her reverie by a young girl pulling on her arm. “Lady Ruth, come and watch the archery!” the little girl said, and Ruth couldn’t help but smile as she let herself be pulled along to watch the events.

  The rest of the afternoon was spent in total merriment. The archery was exciting, with different men and women from all over the village competing for first prize. Men desired to show off their athletic prowess to their wives or women they had their eye on, and the women who participated were ready to show the men just how lethal they could be.

  Despite William’s warning about being pregnant, Marianne had participated, her shrewd talent for archery being one of the best in the area. She came in second place to the dismay of all the men who had lost, but they were treated with a dark look from William if they complained. Ruth wished she had signed up for an athletic event, but she was nervous to do so, since she hadn’t been taught the skills yet.

  Perhaps she should ask Marianne to teach her. She could imagine the beautiful feeling of being able to wield a weapon in your hands, not fearing your opponent. She was proud of all the other women who had signed up, and proud that Jamie and Amelia allowed women to participate. One day, she would need such skills if she was going to head off on a dangerous adventure, would she not? Although swords and fighting might be of more use aboard a ship as opposed to a bow and arrow.

  There was the cable toss, the stone throw, and multiple other events that filled the day. The spectators milled about, eating and drinking their fill, and laughing and yelling at all the antics of the participants. Competitive men’s faces reddened when they knew they were about to lose, and the yelling that ensued was almost laughable. Men could be such children at times, especially in areas of combat, Ruth thought.

  While Ruth ate one of Robyn’s baked treats and sipped her wine, she could see Troy playing spectator as well, laughing and yelling with the other men. She was confused why Troy had not signed up for the other events. With his body, he could certainly perform them. She remembered the day that she had taunted him for not signing up, not believing that a mere minister could perform such athletic movements. But she had had no idea about what lie underneath his plain, nondescript clothing. She swallowed, knowing that soon she would be privy to that view again, and so would the rest of the women. That quick flash of angry jealousy rose in her again, but she shoved it down. How silly to be affected by such a feeling as jealousy. Women were meant to stick together, not fight over a man like the last piece of meat, simpering and smiling, hoping he would look their way.

  She noticed that Troy had not donned a kilt for the day, and she thought perhaps he would feel more comfortable and swifter with a pair of breeches in a sword fight. Ruth could understand that. She often wished she could swap her heavy, obtrusive skirts for a pair of comfortable breeches. What freedom that would be! Was Troy the kind of man that would allow his wife such liberties? Where in the world had that thought come from?

  Ruth opened her mouth and furrowed her brow in shock and confusion at her own thoughts. Why should she care about what Troy would act like as a husband? ‘Twas nothing for her to concern herself with. She certainly had no wish to marry him or any other man. It didn’t matter that he made her ache and yearn for him, that was certainly just physical, right? The science of bodies and their natural desires for another body.

  She waved a hand in front of her face, dismissing her thought. Then she realized what she had just done and looked around to see a few confused glances in her direction. She smiled them off and moved away to a new place, chiding herself for being so embarrassing. Once she found a new spot, it was time for the sword fight to take place. She hadn’t seen Dougal all afternoon, but now she saw him amongst the other men.

  Jamie announced the start of the competition, and the men broke off into pairs. They started with two pairs at a time and moved slowly through once one man became the victor. Surprisingly, not many men had joined in. She remembered that many of them had shied away once they’d realized that, of course, Jamie and William, would be participating. They did not want to take their chances against their laird or his best friend, the two best swordsmen in the area, until perhaps a new contender would take their place?

  Ruth watched with interest. She enjoyed seeing the men employ their fighting tactics, with their bobs and weaves, footwork, deflection, and more. Many of them moved easily. They had been in battle a few years before as Scotland made one last attempt to free itself from England’s control.

  It seemed nearly an age until the last two pairs of swordsmen were pitted against each other. Ruth’s body tensed as she saw Jamie and William come out into the ring, and Dougal and Troy. Ruth noticed many of the women’s eyes drawn to Dougal, as his body was strong and muscled like the other three, but he was also a dark, intriguing stranger in town. Ruth kept her eyes on Troy. She was happy to spend however long it took for the victor to emerge to watch him and his movements. She sighed. He seemed to have grown in sensual masculinity since the last time she saw him. She was nearly salivating as she watched his tall form take his stance against his opponent, each muscle bulging and tensing. She barely watched the match between William and Jamie.

  Dougal looked as though he was in a mad fury, swinging wildly without any thought to his form. Ruth thought it odd. Perhaps that was his style, but it almost seemed as if he was angry at Troy. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even acknowledged Troy’s presence at the fire yesterday when he broke into their near embrace. Ruth hadn’t noticed at the time since she was busy feeling o
ne hundred things at once.

  Did he not travel very far to specifically come and talk with this minister? Why then, should he look as if he was a rabid wolf ready to pounce upon his prey. Troy ducked and dodged away from Dougal’s wild swings, and Ruth feared for him. This was meant to be a friendly competition, not a fight to the death. But she was strengthened when she saw Troy get in a few swings of his own, which made Dougal teeter backward slightly. Ruth clenched her fists at her sides, waiting for the fight to end, hoping that Troy would be victorious.

  Jamie had gotten the better of William in the one fight, and the crowd laughed and cheered as William grumbled on the ground, glaring up at his friend. Troy and Dougal continued, spreading out slightly since there was more space once Jamie and William moved away. The men crossed their arms, watching the two shirtless men in their duel. Dougal was still frenzied, but he was slowing down now, getting tired. Troy kept fighting back, and it seemed that they were too equal in their skills. But at one point, Dougal tripped slightly, and Ruth’s heart flipped, hoping Troy would take the opportunity to conquer him at last.

  He did so, clanging his sword against Dougal who fell backward, but as Dougal fell, he brought his sword to Troy’s open arm and slashed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The crowd gasped as Dougal’s head hit the ground. A bright line of blood rose up on Troy’s arm and began to trickle down his bicep. Ruth cried out, and many turned to see who had made the noise. Troy did as well, and when he saw her concerned face, he smiled, nodding his thanks. Jamie yelled out, “And we have the victor, our minister, Troy Ferguson!”

  The crowd cheered. “But since our friend is injured, we will not make him endure the trying battle between himself and the other victor, his laird.” Everyone laughed, but Jamie whispered into Troy’s ear. “I’m relieved, lad. I couldnae have done so well against such a swordsman as yerself.” Troy chuckled and left the crowd to find the small stream in the woods to cleanse his wound. He held tightly to his arm as he walked. The cut was not deep, but its long trickles of blood made it appear worse than it was. He entered the woods, trees that had become so familiar to him these many months. He did not have to go far before he heard the babble of the tiny brook that wound through the forest.

  He knelt down, still breathing heavily from the fight and began to wash his cut. He was still shirtless, but he brought his clothing with him to act as bandages. He grinned at the thought of Dougal falling to the ground in defeat, and that Ruth had seen it and had been concerned for his injury. The cool water soothed the warm cut, and he used it to wash his torso as well, which had been covered with sweat from the exercise.

  He stood up, water dripping over his every muscle, when he heard a slight rustling to the side of him. He looked to the side to see a concerned Ruth who also looked slightly dazed. “Do you need help?” she asked softly.

  He was surprised but pleased to see her. “Did ye follow me, lass?”

  “I just thought since you had saved me when I was injured, that I should save you this time.” She swallowed, and he saw her eyes shift from his face to his chest and stomach.

  He smiled and moved slightly closer to her, rubbing the water from his face and beard. “You saving me?” He paused, and Ruth thought that he was about to once again harp on the weaknesses of women or the superiority of men who don’t need any help. But instead he said, “I like the sound of that, lass.” And his voice was kind and soft. She closed her eyes briefly, letting it settle over her. Then she reached out to touch his arm.

  “Here, let me see.” He turned his arm, and she looked at it, scrutinizing the wound. “Ah, ‘twill be all right. ‘It looked worse when everyone first saw it.”

  She reached out for his white shirt. “May I?” He nodded wordlessly. She ripped a strip from the shirt to act as a bandage, and she began to wrap it around his arm. She kept her eyes on his wound, but her fingertips were moving slowly, caressingly over the tight skin and the dips of his arm muscles. So a man’s skin was smooth. She stopped herself from reaching out to lay hands upon his bare chest and stomach.

  She tied the bandage gently, and with a little sigh, stepped away from him. Troy had not stopped staring at her since she began wrapping his arm. He was in awe of her, and thought he must be imagining her presence. When she pulled away, he instinctively moved forward, not wanting the closeness to be over yet, and he grabbed her around her thin waist.

  She gasped again quietly, and looked up at his shining face, beard, and hair. They didn’t speak for a few moments, but then a shout came from outside the woods. “Ruth! Where are you? The dance is about to begin!”

  Ruth turned, and gasped again. “My God. I must go!” She pulled out of Troy’s warm, yet wet embrace, and rushed off, leaving a disappointed Troy behind. He chuckled as he let his arms fall to his sides. “I cannae blame the lass. I did reject her kiss as well. But next time, we will have to find somewhere more private.” He grinned devilishly to himself and donned his clothing. Yes, he would kiss Ruth Browne tonight. He would do everything in his power to make it so.

  * * *

  Ruth hurried to the group of similarly clad women around the May Pole. How could she have forgotten such an event? The occasion that she had planned for so long and had seen as her ending period in Scotland? This was the pinnacle moment, and instead of being there on time, she had been caught in an embrace with Troy Ferguson in the woods.

  As Ruth rushed along, she felt butterflies in her stomach. She could still see Troy’s glistening beard and muscles in her mind as clear as if he were still in front of her. She remembered his firm grip on her waist and the way he looked down at her so longingly. He was about to say something, and once again they’d been interrupted at just the wrong moment. When would she ever get to hear what it was he wanted to say to her? She was almost grateful for the interruption. With Troy’s hands on her, she felt as if nothing else in the world mattered. It had been like she was almost frozen in time, looking into his eyes. No one else had ever made her feel this tantalizing desire, this all-consuming need to be near them.

  It was like she was drugged, and when she got in line with the rest of the dancers, she was still in a daze, no matter how hard she tried to shrug off the feelings of the moment in the woods. Troy Ferguson had somehow needled his way into her very consciousness, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t bother her. She welcomed it in as she began to move in rhythm.

  Bagpipes began to play, and the women wound around the May Pole, their bodies light and free in the Spring breeze, flowers upon their heads and smiles upon their faces. They were all young, and some of them were still little more than girls waiting to jump into womanhood. The pride of the villagers and the clan was seen on everyone’s faces as they watched the dance in celebration of the new and hopefully abundant season.

  After Ruth had fled the forest, Troy followed soon after. He was not going to miss the chance to see a beautiful, lithe Ruth, dressed in only a white linen dress, move across the grass. He was enchanted by her natural beauty, and it seemed to shine, especially today. When he moved to the front of the crowd to view the group of women, he had no trouble spotting the auburn curls waving in the breeze. He was frozen to the spot as he watched a smiling, shoeless Ruth prance around the tree like an elfin maiden.

  Troy crossed his arms. His heart was nearly breaking with the incredible sight before him. Here was true innocence, true beauty. It lay before him in Ruth Browne. The dance brought to mind images of women in his past who had danced for him and his crew, for payment, of course, whose sensual gestures had the men on their knees begging to be with them. Watching Ruth Browne now, Troy wanted to do the same thing, but this woman was different. Much different.

  Her movements were not sensual. They were honest and true and were only enhanced in beauty by the smile on her face. Ruth not only made him crave her lustfully, for he had thought many times of having her in his bed, but she awoke something else in him. He was enchanted by her intelligent, quick mind
and her energy of spirit. She was no object to be used for desire. She was a complete and whole woman, who could make any man die from wanting her in his life. He had to be with her.

  He was now itching to find a moment alone with her. Nothing mattered anymore. Not Dougal, not the cross, and not the fact that he was a minister. He wanted her, and he had to control his mind and body, containing himself until the dance was over. He felt like a young boy, so eager to find himself in a woman’s bed but nervous as well, for never before had he met a woman who could make him feel as Ruth did.

  The dance finished, and the crowd cheered, lifting their glasses of ale and wine in celebration. Troy did not cheer, but he kept his eyes on Ruth, so as not to lose her among the crowd. The people moved back to the tables of food, and the music began to play again. Troy pushed through, keeping his eyes on Ruth, who was laughing with the other women from the dance.

  He was so close, but the crowd was a bit rowdy now with a day’s drink in them, and he had trouble getting there quickly. When he did, the girls had moved away, but an excited Colin had taken their place beside Ruth. Ruth looked at Troy, and he could see a faint flush on her face.