Highland Hero (16 page)

“Do ye ne’er stay at home to help your poor father?” she snapped, and almost smiled at his shock, for he could not have expected her to simply scold him for sloth.

“I kenned that, if I waited long enough, I would find ye alone,” he said.

“How verra clever ye are. Tell me, my clever brute, just how do ye intend to explain rape? Dinnae think I willnae cry this crime to the verra rooftops.”

“Wheesht, do ye think that will gain ye anything? I will just say that ye bewitched me, that I was caught in some spell. Mistress Kerr will hasten to support me.”

There was a chilling truth to that, but Rose fought to ignore it. It could make her lose some of her strength. She kicked out at him and nearly caught him square in the groin. He yowled and then cursed her as he tossed her to the ground. Rose managed to get out of his way when he tried to pin her down with his brawny body, but she did not escape completely.

As she wrestled with Geordie, Rose found herself thinking of Adair. She did wish he would ride to the rescue, like some gallant knight in a minstrel’s tale, but knew the chances of that were very slim. Rose also thought of how, if Geordie got what he was after, she would have only a horror to recall concerning her first time with a man and not the loving interlude she might have enjoyed with Adair.

Chapter 8

Reining in several yards before the gates of Duncairn, Adair sighed. His anger had faded. He had not handled himself well in the confrontation with Rose’s aunt. The woman had believed in the tales of the garden her whole life, as had Rose. It was not reasonable of him to expect such long-held beliefs, wrongheaded as they were, to be cast aside just because he said they should be. Weaning Rose away from the grip of those tales and fancies was going to take time and patience. He had shown very little of the latter in the garden.

Adair decided an apology was in order. He turned his mount and started to ride back to Rose Cottage. If nothing else, he had intended to spend some time with Rose, and he would not let an argument with her stubborn aunt rob him of that.

As he rode up to the cottage, he was surprised to find Iain of Syke Farm standing by the garden gate talking to Mary. “Greetings, Iain. I hadnae expected to find ye here.”

“Came to fetch some herbs,” the man replied.

“Ah.” Adair bowed slightly to Mary. “I apologize for my earlier display of anger.”

“Nay need, laddie,” Mary said. “I have been kenned to stir up a temper or two.”

Although he was sure Iain was suppressing a laugh, Adair was more interested in seeing Rose than trying to discern what was or was not going on between her aunt and Iain. “I was hoping to speak to Rose.”

“She went for a walk down to the river.”

“Alone?”

“Aye. She told me she often does it and that ’tis safe.”

“No place is that safe,” muttered Adair as he turned his mount and rode off to the river.

“That lad is verra concerned about my Rose,” murmured Mary as she watched Adair ride away.

“Aye,” agreed Iain. “He may nay ken it, but I am thinking there will be a wedding atween those two. ”

“There will be. And why did ye tell him ye were here for some herbs? Ye arenae ashamed of kenning me, are ye?”

“Nay. I just had me the sudden thought that, for a wee while, it might serve us weel if people dinnae ken that ye have an ally here and there.”

“Ah, ye may be right.” She took one last look in the direction Adair had gone, then shrugged. “They will be fine. I must try nay to poke my nose in there too much. He has to sort out his concerns on his own.”

“Aye. ’Tis always best to let a mon think he got to the place ye wanted him to be all on his own.” Iain grinned when Mary just laughed.

Adair heard the trouble before he saw it. A feminine screech of fury and fear firmly caught his attention. What roused his concern and fear was that it had come from the river, where Rose had gone. He kicked his mount into a slightly faster speed, searching the area as he rode. There was no sign of any other people than the two he could now hear, so that meant that this was a private squabble.

When he cleared a line of trees and saw what was happening, he drew to a halt. Shock and a rapidly building rage held him still for the barest moment as he struggled to bring both feelings under control. Then Geordie got Rose pinned firmly beneath him, and Adair decided he would be showing more than enough control by not drawing his sword and killing the man on the spot.

He dismounted, walked over to the pair, and grabbed Geordie under the arms. He had a brief glimpse of Rose’s eyes, looking huge in her pale face, as he tossed Geordie to the side. Even as he reached out a hand to Rose, she was already scrambling to her feet.

“Ye are unhurt?” he asked Rose.

She nodded, annoyed at her sudden attack of mute shock. There was such fury evident in Adair’s face, however, she was not surprised at the tickle of fear she felt. When Geordie groaned, Adair turned and moved toward the man. Rose took several long, deep breaths, fighting to gain control over her confused emotions. There was a good chance she would need all her wits about her to stop a killing.

“Ye dare to attack a woman on my lands?” Adair asked as a white-faced Geordie struggled to his feet.

“She bewitched me!” Geordie said, his voice cracking with fear. “I couldnae help myself, laird.”

Adair felt Rose move nearer and knew he had to restrain himself. Taking a deep breath, he punched Geordie in the mouth, sending the burly man back to the ground. He really wanted to beat the man within an inch of his life but had never believed in such violence. Now, however, he had a better understanding of the feelings that might cause a man to act so brutally.

“Take yourself home. I will deal with ye later. ’Tis best if I dinnae do so now. I dinnae think it for the best if I go about killing my own people, nay matter how much one or two of them might deserve it,” he added in a calm voice and watched Geordie stumble off toward the village.

“I wouldnae have thought Geordie could move so fast,” Rose murmured, then tensed when Adair turned to face her. He still looked angry.

“Do ye have no sense at all?” he snapped. “Ye shouldnae walk about all alone. Nay, especially not when ye have suffered an attack by that swine once already. Duncairn is a lot safer than many another place, but nowhere is truly safe for a lass wandering about on her own.”

The whole time he scolded her, he gently moved her closer to the stream. He knelt, tugged her down beside him, and tugging off his shirt, used it to bathe her face and hands. Rose suspected she ought to protest being spoken to and treated like a terrified child, but she was finding it a little difficult to think straight. She could not tear her eyes from that broad, dark chest. Adair was all smooth skin and taut muscle.

She gave in to the urge to touch him and, reaching out, ran her fingers over a jagged scar on his right side. “Ye didnae come home from France completely untouched, did ye?”

“Nay.” He felt himself tremble beneath her touch and grabbed her hand. “I gained several scars. Nay all of them are from battle. I was caught once by the enemy. They were nay kind. Lost two friends there to torture ’ere I and three others escaped.”

“How sad. ’Tis sad enough to have young men die in battle, but to have a precious life lost to men whom ye are nay e’en able to fight is verra sad indeed.”

Adair was astonished that he had told her all of that. He had been forced to relate a few tales about his years in France, but the time he and five others had spent eight months in a dark hole, their days filled with pain and humiliation, was one tale he had not told anyone. Yet, suddenly, he blurted it out to Rose. It was odd behavior on his part and he was not comfortable with it.

“Are ye certain he didnae hurt ye?” he asked.

“Aye. There will be a few bruises, and I feared he was going to pull all my hair out, but naught else,” she replied.

“I must think of how to deal with the fool, but I think I need to wait a wee while ’ere I do. I am still of a mind to just kill him.”

“For a few moments there, if I had had a knife, I would have done it myself.” She leaned forward and kissed his chest.

“Rosebud?”

She smiled against his skin, for he had come perilously close to squeaking. “Do ye ken what I thought when I realized that I could nay win a fight with the fool?”

He pulled her into his arms. “Nay. What did ye think?”

“That he was going to make my first time with a mon something out of a nightmare, and I dearly wished I had done it with ye first.”

“Oh, hell.”

Rose found herself on her back on the ground again, but this time the position pleased her. In that moment of fearing that Geordie would succeed in raping her, she had come to a decision. She might not fully trust the passion Adair felt for her, occasionally questioning its cause, but she knew he wanted her. And she wanted him. Now that she knew how easily she could become the victim of a man, could have lust forced upon her, she chose to take control. There was no doubt in her mind that making love with Adair would pleasure her.

When he kissed her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and fully returned his kiss. Heat pulsed through her body. Hunger for his touch made her shift beneath his weight. Rose blushed as he removed her clothes but did nothing to stop him.

“Ah, Rosebud, ye are so cursed beautiful,” he muttered as he tossed aside the last of her clothes and looked her over from head to toe.

“I am a wee lass,” she whispered, her eyes widening as he began to tear off his clothes. There was an awful lot of Adair Dundas.

“Wee but perfect.”

She gasped with pleasure when he returned to her arms, their flesh touching. That delight was quickly surpassed by the feel of his hands and lips against her skin. Rose lost all concern about Adair’s size. She tried to return as many of his caresses as she could and soon had only one clear thought. She wanted him, needed him.

“I will try nay to hurt ye,” he rasped as he shifted his body and prepared to possess her.

“I ken it must hurt some the first time. Ah, but the ache I feel now must be nearly as bad.”

“There will be nay turning back, my love.”

“Hush.” She kissed him. “I am yours. Here. Now. Do ye really wish to pause and discuss the rights and wrongs of it all?”

“Nay.”

Rose bit back a cry when he joined their bodies. The pain was sharp but fleeting. For a little while she allowed Adair to soothe her with soft words and stirring caresses, but then her need grew too strong for play. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and arched her body, shuddering with delight as he went deeper within her. Then he began to move, each graceful thrust of his body enflaming her, but she quickly decided she did not want grace and gentleness.

Adair groaned as Rose moved her slim, long-fingered hands over his body. He was fighting to go slowly, to not frighten her with the ferocity of his desire and need. Then she caressed his backside, grasped it in her tiny hands, and made it very clear that she was feeling no less fierce than he was. He released his control, giving in to the wild passion thrumming through his veins. When Rose cried out in release, her movements becoming somewhat wild, he held her close and let her take him with her.

It was a long time before Adair found the strength or will to move out of Rose’s arms. He wet his shirt in the river and cleaned them both off. Her blushes amused him even as her silence began to worry him.

His own silence was probably not helping to ease the awkwardness of the situation. There was so much he wanted to say, yet there was still a lot standing between them. He wanted her as his wife, at his side night and day. He needed that. Yet he did not want magic at Duncairn, and Rose showed no sign of giving it up. Adair feared that, if he spoke of their future now, before they had settled that problem, he was telling her that it was already settled. The last thing he wanted was misunderstandings following them to the altar.

“Rosebud . . .” he began as she stood up and finished dressing.

“Ye dinnae need to give me sweet lies and promises, Adair,” she murmured.

When he had not spoken of love or a future for them after the haze of passion faded, Rose had decided she would offer no hint of her feelings either. Since she had felt so profoundly moved by their lovemaking, knew that he was the mate of her body, heart, and soul, it was painful not to hear or see that he felt the same. It was, however, a sad fact of life that men did not have to feel much emotion at all to indulge in lovemaking. She had her pride and she would not chance humbling herself before a man who saw it all as little more than a moment of delight on a fine summer’s day.

He stood up and went to put his shirt away in his saddle pack. “I have ne’er been good with sweet words, lass,” he admitted as he walked back to her side, leading his horse.

“I begin to think many a mon isnae.”

“Weel, ye need nay worry about sweet words from any other mon,” he grumbled as she started to walk toward Rose Cottage and he fell into step at her side.

“Nay, I suppose not. I have reached the age of one and twenty and ne’er heard one. I doubt there will be a sudden swarming of men ready and eager to whisper flatteries in my ears in the next few weeks.”