Mad for the Plaid (20 page)

“How many?” Nik asked grimly.

“Three, perhaps four. They scattered into the woods like rats.”

“Of course they did,” Stewart scoffed. “Cowards, all of 'em.” He loosened his blunderbuss from where it was strapped to his saddle and checked that it was loaded. “Now they'll nae be so quick to attack, as they'll know we'll be ready.”

Rurik gathered his reins. “We should make certain they are truly gone. I would have chased after them, but I thought it more prudent to warn you first.”

“You were right to do so.” Nik turned D'yoval down the trail. “We will make certain they have truly left.”

“Hold,” MacKean said. “I'll help Mr. Rurik. My horse is nae so tired as yours.” The huntsman glanced at Ailsa as he spoke.

Nik had to fight the desire to grimace. Blast it. If he went after the brigands, it would give the lie to his assertion that D'yoval was exhausted. With no other option, Nik forced a smile. “You are right, of course.”

MacKean rode to join Rurik. “You've a plan?” he asked the guard.

“We'll curve to the east for a half mile, and then ride parallel to the trail down to where the thieves and I had our little meeting.”

“Mayhap I can follow their tracks from there.”

“Nyet,”
Rurik said sternly. “If we allow them to draw us away, those we leave here are unprotected.”

Stewart slapped his blunderbuss. “Nae completely.”

“But more unprotected than we should be,” Nik said. “Rurik has the right of it: do not follow them. For all we know, it could be a trap. Just make certain they're truly dispersed and then return here. And see if you can determine the number. That would be helpful.”

Ailsa added, “We will need every able-bodied man at camp for protection, so do nae linger.”

MacKean sighed. “Very guid, my lady.” He and Rurik rode back down the trail.

“Come. Let's set up camp.” Nik turned D'yoval off the trail and led the way over the small, sparkling stream to the flat area he'd spied earlier, scanning the woods as he went.

The sighting of the brigands was unsettling.
Is it possible they know we're traveling with ransom monies? Or do they just want our horses and our goods?
Either way, the brigands would gain nothing without a fight.

Nik reached the clearing and was gratified to find it larger than he'd first thought. Located on higher, and thus drier, land, the small area was ringed by huge pines, the forest floor coated with a thick layer of fresh needles that would make their sleep much more comfortable than the hard ground.

Stewart swung down from his horse, set his blunderbuss over his shoulder, and freed two pistols from his saddle. “I'll set watch a bit farther down the trail. It
climbs, so I will be able to see anyone approaching long before they arrive.”

“An excellent idea,” Ailsa said. “We'll set oop camp while you're gone.”

Stewart gave a nod and strode into the woods.

Mackenzie swung down from his horse, groaning, “Bloody hell, it has been a long day.” He rubbed his back. “I was never so glad to hear that a horse deserved a rest in my life.”

Ailsa agreed. “It is guid we've stopped.”

“Indeed.” He bent over and touched his toes, and then straightened. “I'll put the horses away. There's a place to tether them over there, just outside this ring of pines.”

Nik followed Mackenzie's gaze. “When you return, see if you can find a felled log.”

Mackenzie brightened. “Ah, yes. The fire.”

“We'll have no fire tonight, not with brigands following.”

Mackenzie's face fell. “Then what is the log for?”

“To keep the saddles off the wet ground.”

“Very well.” Looking disappointed, he led his horse away, collecting Stewart's mount as he went.

Still astride her horse, Ailsa looked at the clearing. The sunlight streaked over her, lighting the gold threads that mingled in her dark blond hair. “This is a guid place to camp.”

“
Da
.” Nik tied D'yoval to a tree and began to loosen the saddle. He'd almost finished when he realized that Ailsa was still astride St. George and seemed in no hurry to climb down.

He sent her a curious look. “Are you going to dismount?”

She shrugged. “I'm just thinking.”

“You will think better once you've stretched your legs.”

“I am fine here.”

Nik put D'yoval's saddle against a tree and let the horse wander to a patch of grass. The animal gave it an experimental nibble and then happily settled in for a more thorough taste.

Ailsa watched the horse, her brows knit. “He does nae look exhausted to me.”

“You do not know him as I do.” Nik crossed the clearing to stand beside Ailsa. As he approached, St. George showed his teeth.

“Don't even think about it,” Nik ordered.

St. George huffed and turned his head away.

Nik put one hand on Ailsa's saddle. “Dismount. I will help.”

She shook her head. “Give me a moment. I feel as if I'm on a ship with a deck rocking under my feet.” She brushed a gloved hand over her cheek to smooth away a silken strand of hair that had come loose from her braid.

Her cheeks were deliciously pink from the cold, which made him imagine kissing them to a warmer shade.
She wears the cold weather well, this ice maiden.
“We rode a long way today, so it is no wonder you feel as if you're at sea. But the sooner you get down, the quicker you'll get your legs back under you.”

She didn't answer and he realized that, just as she'd
been doing on the trail, she'd fisted her hand and was pressing it against her thigh. “What is wrong,
krasavitsa
? Is it your leg?”

Ailsa resolutely refused to look at Nik. Her left leg was numb from sitting, while her right thigh had knotted up into one huge cramp. He was being so kind, and the unexpectedness of it made her throat tighten.
I must be more tired than I thought.

“Come.” Impatience colored his voice. He slipped his strong hands under her cloak and grasped her waist. “Let me help you down.”

“Nae, th—”

He lifted her from St. George's back as if she were a feather. He did it so quickly that when he set her on her feet, her spasming leg protested, seizing until she was in dire danger of falling down.

She frantically shifted her weight to her other leg, but as it was still numb, her knee buckled. Desperate not to fall flat on her arse, she threw her arms around Nik and held on for dear life.

She stood with her arms wrapped tightly about his waist, her cheek pressed to his rough wool coat, her body flush with his.

For a shocked moment, he stood frozen in place. But then he gave a deep chuckle and slipped his arms around her. “You minx,” he whispered in her ear. “All day I, too, have been thinking of this.”

Her eyes widened.
He thinks I— He believes I've— Oh lord. What have I done?

He brushed a kiss to her temple, his breath warm on
her bared skin. Her skin trembled with goose bumps, her body warming to his touch. She closed her eyes and wished she dared loosen her hold, but knew her legs were not yet ready to hold her upright.
No, no, no. I must move. I was just—

His hands slid from her waist to her back, molding her more firmly to him. That was . . . blast it, it was quite nice. Better than nice. It was warm. And sensual. Every part of her that he touched came awake.

He rubbed his chin across her temple, his whiskers tickling the sensitive skin until she shivered.

She shifted her weight to her spasming leg and quickly went back to the numb one. As long as she didn't put pressure on the cramping leg, it didn't hurt.
Can I stand on the other long enough to reach St. George? If I can, I—

“Krasavitsa,”
he whispered against her temple. The aching longing that deepened his voice sent her thoughts flying as she shivered in answer.

His arms tightened and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She should step away.
Just move,
she told herself.
As soon as you can feel your leg, move.

She leaned more heavily on the numb leg and realized she could, indeed, feel it now. At least enough to walk on it.

So she could move.

But there's no reason to be rude. I will move . . . in a minute.

He pressed a line of kisses over her temple to her cheek, each touch a torture and a tease. Her breasts
ached with a desire that increased with each feathery touch.

At some point, she'd ceased plastering herself to him, and had moved away just enough to allow him to brush tantalizing kisses over her cheek, to the corner of her mouth.

She waited, eyes closed, their breaths mingling.

“You are smart to take advantage of our being alone,
krasavitsa
,” he murmured through a kiss that brushed her bottom lip. “Though I fear it will not last for long.”

His voice was deeper than usual, making her think of warm honey and long, leisurely hot baths.
I really, really, really should stop this. I should. And I will.

A few kisses were not amiss, they warmed the soul, and heaven knew it was cold out.

“Ah, I have thought of this since our first kiss.” And then he kissed her again, his mouth covering hers, not as wildly as before, but deliberately, as if he savored the taste of her.

She melted against him, soaking in the feel of his hands, of his mouth, of
him.
God, but he was so sensual, so decadent, this prince of a man. And at this moment, he was kissing
her.

He broke the kiss as gently as he'd begun it, leaving her clinging weakly to him, her heart thundering a ragged tempo in her ears. “You torment me.”

She wasn't sure who was tormenting whom, but she never wanted it to stop. Vaguely, she was aware she should be shaking her leg, trying to work out the cramp that had pained it. But it suddenly seemed more important to pay attention to other parts of her body,
like her breasts, which were now pressed against Nik's broad chest and tingled with each breath. Her skin was covered with goose bumps from his hands under her cloak, slowly, slowly smoothing up and down her back, traveling lower with each stroke.

She could feel the heat of that touch through the layers of her clothing. But even more than that, his mouth, his beautiful, sensual mouth, was right
here
, ready for another kiss, another taste, another tease. His eyes, green and shimmering, gleamed with a heat she could feel all the way to her toes.

He cupped her face with one large hand, his thumb making circles on her bare skin as he slowly bent to capture her lips—

“
Bloody hell!
” She yanked her foot from the ground where she'd accidentally pressed her weight on it, the cramp raging back to life.

He pulled back, his brows snapping together. “What is it?”

She bent to grab her leg. “A cramp,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Come. I will—” The sound of horses approaching made him curse.

Ailsa looked over her shoulder to see Rurik and MacKean riding up the trail, their outlines flickering between the trees.

Gregor walked out of the woods, dragging a large log. He dropped it on seeing the guard and MacKean on the trail. “They're back! I'll see if they found anything.” He hurried to meet them.

Ailsa took the one step necessary to bring her back
to St. George. Once she reached him, she grasped the saddle straps and held on, balancing on her good leg, as she rested her forehead against the saddle.

“Come,” came a low voice near her ear, “we must deal with this cramp that makes your eyes fill with tears.”

He was so close that if she turned her head, her lips would meet his again. And while that thought was infinitely appealing, she had no wish to end this kiss like the other—interrupted by their companions. She managed a short nod instead. “It hurts, but it'll get better if I just rest it and—”

He swooped her into his arms and carried her away.

She had no idea why he was carrying her off, away from the camp and deeper into the forest. She should have argued. Or at least protested. It felt rather scandalous, but in what way? They were separated by layers and layers of clothing, which meant nothing truly improper could happen.

She decided not to examine the deep flash of disappointment caused by her own thoughts, and instead looped her arms about his neck and rested her cheek on his shoulder. It was nice being carried so effortlessly. Being held in strong arms. Being protected.

Wanted.

He came to a stop by a stream a short distance from the camp, and gently lowered her to a rock against a large tree. The rush of crystal water over mossy green stones filled the silence. They were close enough to camp should they be needed, but far enough away to give the impression of privacy. She leaned against the tree trunk. It was beautiful here, and romantic—

“Now, you will take off your boot.”

She blinked, staring up at him. “What?”

“Your boot must come off.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Do you or do you not have a leg cramp from riding?”

“Och. Yes.” So this was really about her leg. Disappointment flooded her and she cautiously moved her foot. It felt better. Much better. Perhaps all she'd needed was to be swept into a large, handsome man's arms and carried away as if she were a princess in a fairy tale.

“Take off your boot and I will massage the muscles so the cramp disappears.” Her mouth dropped open, and he chuckled as he reached down and gently pushed her chin back into place. “Come. The boot is restricting. If you take it off, it will allow the blood to flow and ease the cramp.”

She should have explained that her leg was no longer so painful. But somehow, she found herself sitting with her boot in her hand and her leg stuck out as if demanding that massage he'd mentioned.