Highland Jewel (Highland Brides) (7 page)

"Na." He failed to look into her appealing gaze and Colin chuckled aloud.

"Isna there sommat else ye might offer the Forbes?" he asked cynically from the far side of the fire. "Sommat more personal, mayhap?"

For a moment Devona glared at him. "I will take food to the postulate," she said, and rose stiffly to move toward the fire, but Colin caught her arm.

"He is laird of the Forbes," Colin said, "and not for the likes of ye."

"Indeed. But you cannot blame a girl for dreaming," she murmured, and jerking her arm from his grasp, lifted a filled plate to stride toward Rose.

"Damn her stubborn hide," swore Colin.

"Aye," said Leith in low agreement, but his gaze had not shifted from the kneeling figure.

Chapter 6

In her mind's eye Rose could still see Leith's naked chest. It was bold and broad, beaded with water and indecently alluring. Dear God, she was a weak-kneed simpleton. Had she been thinking properly, she would have taken herself far into the woods to continue her prayers in private. Or she would have prayed aloud for his obviously irreverent immortal soul. Or ... There were probably a hundred pious things she might have done. Staring, openmouthed, like a beached fish was not amongst them.

God had vowed not to tempt His children beyond their endurance. But Leith Forbes' very presence in her life made her question that vow. Not that she was tempted by his masculinity, of course. She was merely tempted by anger, incensed by his immodest behavior, outraged by his ...

God's toenails, the buxom widow again had her mount pressed up close beside Leith's. One would think the man was the Lord's own blessed saint, come down to grace them all with His glowing presence. When in truth he was nothing but a ...

She was
not
going to curse. He couldn't make her, even when he laughed in that gravelly way he had, making the sound rumble up from his massive chest to curl into the pit of her stomach. Her
empty
stomach.

God Almighty, she hated him. Despised him! He interrupted her prayers. How could she concentrate on being pious while she was thinking up new and intriguing ways to kill him? A seductive image of herself slipping a noose about his neck nibbled at her consciousness. Of course she could simply filch the little cross and ride like hell for home, but that would not be nearly so much fun.

And too, they'd catch her without half-trying, for she rode a lumpheaded goat while the honored Lady Devona rode the fine black mare with the prancing step.

Rose's mood darkened, causing her to ignore the fact that she had refused to ride the spirited mare herself. Still, Forbes could have tried harder to convince her. But why should he? He was more than content to ride ahead with the widow.

She supposed the men thought Devona was kindly, after the woman's offer to give her food the previous night. But Rose knew better. It had almost been a pleasure to refuse, despite the hunger that tortured her, for she knew the plump-breasted little hussy only hoped to attract Leith's attention.

Her ploy was most definitely working! But it was no concern of Rose's, of course. For all she cared he could drown in her cleavage, never to be seen again—swallowed up like a small paper boat on a swelling wave—sinking, sinking ... God Almighty, she was losing her grip on reality and needed to get a hold on herself. Watchwords! She must concentrate on her watchwords.

Hold. Fast. And pray.

The bonny widow—bless her soul—was forever at his side, Leith thought gratefully. And though he might believe she was attracted to him alone, he did not, for her gaze often went to Colin. Was she trying to make his brother jealous, just as he was trying to do with Rose?

Without looking back, Leith wondered if the wee nun still watched them as she had earlier—with that violet, gem-hard spark in her eyes. The first awakenings of sensual desire? He believed so. A flicker of jealousy? He hoped so. But were her emotions even more basic than those? Rage perhaps? He had, at times, seen her eyeing the pocket where he kept her wooden cross. Would she dare make a grab for it again? And if so, would she, the pious little holy woman, attempt to slip his own dirk between his ribs while doing her pilfering?

The idea seemed ridiculous, unthinkable, until one looked into the eerie, bottomless fathoms of her eyes. There were indiscernible thoughts there—unreadable emotions. Still, any emotion was preferable to her prayerful indifference, for he had an urgent mission and precious little time.

Scotland lay ahead, soothing his soul somewhat. "The border to me homeland," he said quietly, pulling his thoughts from the lass who plagued him.

"Let us both find our hearts' desire there," said Devona quietly.

Leith could feel two pairs of eyes watching them as he lowered his gaze to the woman beside him. "What is yer desire, Devona Millet?"

Her eyes were dark and sincere, her expression solemn. "I would have a man to love me," she said honestly. "A man to care for."

Leith saw sadness on her face and having no wish to add more, admitted, "I am not that man."

"No." She shook her head in agreement. "You are not."

Leith nodded, knowing now that he truly understood her words and actions. "Jealousy can mayhap be harnessed."

"Mayhap," she agreed softly. “Tell me of your brother."

His eyes held hers. "He is a good man. And one to make a fine husband."

"I believed it from the first," she admitted. "Felt it in my heart, despite his aggravating belief that he could have me at will. And you?" She did not remove her gaze from his. "Why do you pursue Rose Gunther?"

For a moment Leith was surprised by her perceptiveness and considered not answering, but Devona was risking much to travel with them. " ‘Tis for a worthy cause, Widow Millet," he said evenly. "I will na harm her."

She watched him solemnly before nodding. "Then we are agreed."

"Aye." He too nodded. "We are," he said, and, leaning from his great steed, kissed her full on the mouth.

Colin watched the pair kiss, feeling an emotion that melded anger and jealousy. He'd deduced that Leith did not care for the widow. And the widow? She was not capable of caring or surely she'd see that she had the wrong broth—

A movement caught his eye and he turned in his saddle—just in time to see Rose's pale-robed body plop to the earth. His brows rose in astonishment. Now this was an interesting twist, he thought. Dropping the packhorse's rope, he stepped from his mount. Striding forward, he scooped the girl's flaccid form into his arms.

Her lovely eyes were shut, her skin pale, but she still breathed. He touched his hand to her brow. No fever, but she was so very delicate, like a fine work of art. But stubborn to a fault—starving herself. And for what? For her religious beliefs? Suddenly he doubted it. Did she fast then simply to torment Leith? Colin touched her cheek, liking her more with each new thought. The lass had enough spunk to trouble Leith for a lifetime. He smiled. But the girl moaned now and so he subdued his cheerful expression with wise self-control and called, "Brother! We have a wee problem here. If ye can scrape yer eyeballs from the widow's bonny bosom, ye might come have a look."

Jerking away from the kiss, Leith snapped his gaze to the bundle in his brother's arms.
Sweet Jesu,
he swore in silence and in a moment was before them.

"What happened?" he questioned, his eyes pinned to the girl's pale face.

"Methinks she fainted," declared Colin.

"I know she fainted, God damn it!" snarled Leith in return.

"Then why did ye ask?" queried Colin, snuggling Rose a bit closer to his chest.

Leith's scowl darkened at his brother's actions. "Did ye na see her fall?"

"Aye, I did," Colin assured him blithely.

"And ye didna catch her?"

Colin's brows shot up as he watched his laird's face. It looked nearly as pale as the girl's, he noticed with avid interest. "Ye are right," he said, nodding gravely. “It be entirely me own fault. Thus I will care for her." He pulled Rose nearer yet and shifted to move away, but Leith's hand was on his arm.

"Think ye that I trust ye with a woman of God? Give her to me!"

"Think ye that I trust
ye?"
retorted Colin, intrigued by the intensity in his brother's face. "I will keep her."

"Ye willna!" Leith's tone was deadly flat, brooking no argument. "I will take her." Silence settled about them, punctuating each unspoken thought. "Now!"

Colin shrugged finally, fighting down a grin and extending his burden toward the other. "As ye wish."

Leith gathered Rose's limp body into his arms, keeping his expression impassive. But still Colin could read the worry there, stamped hard upon his rugged features.

"We will stop for the night," Leith commanded, his tone tight. "Make camp in the woods and see to the widow."

"Aye, me liege," answered Colin dutifully and catching the loose horses, strode merrily toward the trees, stopping only long enough to wink at Devona.

Her back stiffened as she stared down at him. "And why do you grin like a demented fool?"

"Na reason, dear lady," he said, then laughed aloud, throwing back his golden head and thinking her temper was a marvelous thing. "Na reason atall."

Leith held Rose gently, watching her lovely face in silence. He'd removed the woolen cloth from her head, baring the winterberry-auburn of her flowing hair.

"Awaken, lass," he ordered gently.

Rose heard the heavy burr of Leith's voice as if it came from a great distance.

"Open yer eyes, lassie," he whispered, so close to her ear she could feel the vibrations of his voice. "Or I will kiss ye awake."

Her eyes snapped open.

The rogue was smiling.

"Ah," Leith breathed softly, caught in the glorious depths of her violet eyes. "So I now ken how to make ye obey." His smile deepened as he touched her cheek. "Threaten ye with kisses."

She blinked twice. He was so near he made her head spin, or was it the strange weakness that seemed to lay like a soaked coverlet upon her limbs? "What happened?" she whispered groggily.

"Ye are such a frail thing." He caressed her cheek with the pads of his fingers. "Ye swooned," he murmured. "And after only three days of starvation and many miles on yonder nag's jolting back."

There was humor in the warm depths of his eyes. She could see it and felt drawn irresistibly to it. "I... " She blinked again, realizing for the first time that he held her in his arms. "I fell?"

"Like a stone, lassie."

"Oh." Never in her life had she fainted. What would have caused her to do so now? Oh, yes.

It wasn't the hard days of riding or the gnawing hunger she remembered, but the kiss. He had kissed the dark-haired widow—damn his worthless hide.

"Let me up," she ordered now, struggling to rise, but he held her in place with no obvious effort.

"Ye will stay as ye are," he said casually.

"I will not." Anger streamed back to her senses. Not long before he'd been kissing the widow. Now he held her as if he had every right to do so. "I will get up!"

"Ye willna." Their gazes caught and kindled. "Ye are as weak as a newborn cub. Ye will eat before ye move."

"No!" she argued, incensed by his imperial manner.

"Then..." He leaned closer, the ends of his loose sable hair falling upon her robe. "... I will kiss ye."

Breath whistled down her throat as she leaned back into his arms, which were hard and broad, strong with sinew and muscle. "You wouldn't dare!" she said, but her denial was little more than a whisper.

"Aye, lass." His vow was a husky assurance. "I would."

"The Lord would surely strike you dead."

Leith stared at her in wonder before tilting up his lips slightly. Small wrinkles appeared beside that sensual mouth and bracketed the outer corners of his deep-hued eyes. "Ye must think well of yerself indeed, lass, to believe the Lord would take such offense to a simple kiss. When in truth..." He bent lower, until his lips were mere inches from hers. "... I spoke to Him regarding the matter. He said He had no objections."

Rose could find no words. Her heart thundered like a thousand stampeding horses, and her gaze was caught on his mouth, which was sensuously curved and dangerously near.

"He said," Leith whispered smokily, "that though ye are marvelously well-meaning, ye were na crafted to be a nun. Ye were made to be a woman—and kissed well and often."

"Blasphemy." She meant it as a denunciation, but the strange, breathless tone more closely resembled a plea. "You would not dare." She meant to turn her gaze from his—to search for some help, but her eyes would not leave the dark, alluring features before her. Still, she must try to fight.

"Your... your brother would stop you," she murmured weakly.

Leith raised his brows at her. It was an odd assessment of his relationship with Colin, he thought. Then again, perhaps not. Colin had indeed seemed earnestly concerned about the girl's well-being. And somewhat distrustful of Leith's intentions. "I am his laird," he explained simply, not quite losing his smile. "He would eat Beinn's saddle if I so commanded."

She let her mouth fall open, hoping to scathe him with some caustic remark, but nothing came.

"And too, lass," he murmured, "Colin is na here. He takes first watch at the top of the
drama
behind us."

"Droma?"
she questioned weakly, struggling to straighten the facts in her mind.

His fingers brushed downward, caressing her cheek, then sliding lower, across the small promontory of her chin to the delicate pulse in her throat. "Ridge." Leith nodded, seeming no less distracted than she. "He is on the ridge with the widow."

Rose swallowed hard. "Oh," she whispered foolishly, then realized belatedly that his fingertips were touching the bare flesh of her neck. "Where..." She reached up shakily, pressing her own fingers beside his. "Where is my wimple?"

"Wimple?" He raised his brows, wondering at the term, then smiled. "Ye mean that awful bit of woolen that hid yer bonny neck?" His fingers trailed softly downward and she shivered. "We Scots also use the word," he said, his gaze following his hand. "But we have a different meaning."