Mad for the Plaid (27 page)

“He is inside the cave, near the entrance. He cannot be seen from the outside.”

Nik could not imagine his men doing any better. “Thank you for watching after both me and my horse.”

She shrugged as if she didn't care one way or the other, though the brightness of her eyes belied her casual tone. “It had to be done.”

Nik fought the urge to close his heavy eyes. “Where are my weapons?”

“You rifle's there.”

She nodded toward one side of him and he realized his rifle was leaning against the wall, easily within his reach.

“Your pistol is beside it,” she added. “They got wet, so I cleaned them. They are loaded and ready, should you need them.”

“That is something, at least.” He yawned sleepily, noting the way her lips were downturned, her brow knit. “Do not look so glum. It will take more than one bullet to kill me.”

“One bullet almost did kill you,” she said sharply. “Had I nae seen where D'yoval slid off the trail, you would have bled to death in that stream.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps not.” He rubbed his hand over his face. His eyelids would not stay open, they were so heavy. He closed them and murmured, “Tomorrow, we leave.”

“We'll see,” she said flatly.

He thought about disagreeing with her, but sleep began to creep in, stealing his thoughts and lulling him to quiet. After a few moments, he heard Ailsa beside him. She arranged his blankets, tucking them around him until he was once again cocooned in warmth.

The fire crackled, and the pleasant scent of roasting rabbit made the cave seem homelike, especially with Ailsa beguilingly close.
Close enough for a kiss,
he thought wistfully.

With that last, lingering thought he fell back into a deep, deep sleep.

Chapter 17

D'yoval nudged Ailsa's pocket, pushing her a step to one side.

She clicked her tongue, trying not to laugh at the insistent horse. “You are as stubborn as your master, you are.”

The horse snorted in protest, then butted his nose against her pocket again.

Laughing, Ailsa fished out the bit of dried apple and fed it to him. She'd found a number of apples in Nik's saddlebags, as well other items that had helped them get through these last few days. But supplies were now low, and she'd had no luck in snaring another rabbit.

It was a good thing they were leaving in the morning to rejoin the others. Had Nik had his way, they'd have left today, but she'd been adamant about waiting. If the brigands found them, they'd have to make a run for it, which would reopen his wounded shoulder.

She glanced about her now. Her pistol was tucked in her belt, just in case they were discovered by someone other than their traveling companions. The peacefulness of the woods eased her tensions for the moment.

She patted D'yoval as he munched happily, running her hand over the scratches on his neck and side. Thankfully they weren't deep. She remembered how close the tree had fallen to the horse and she wrapped her arms around the animal and rested her cheek on his powerful neck, breathing in the earthy scent of his mane and the sweetness of the apple. Overhead, the sun shone brightly and warmed the air while birds sang in the trees. She closed her eyes, the sun delightful on her shoulders.

“D'yoval has charmed you.”

She turned to find Nik just outside the mouth of the cave. His legs were planted as if he were standing on a ship, his powerful thighs outlined by his black breeches, his calves lovingly encased in riding boots, while a wide leather belt encircled his narrow hips. His muscled arms were crossed over his bare chest, a coat hanging loosely from his shoulders. With his shadowed beard and torn clothing, he looked more pirate than prince.

Why, oh why had she made the bandage so thick that Nik's shirt would not fit over it? She'd used her chemise to make the blasted thing, too, and there wasn't enough of it left to make another, so they were stuck with him wandering about looking like . . .
that
.

She cleared her throat. “'Tis a bit cold. You should wear your cloak.”

“I'm fine,
krasavitsa
.” A flash of humor softened his mouth. “Does it bother you that I do not wear a shirt?”

“Och nae. I barely noticed. I just thought that as 'tis a wee bit cold this morning, you might want to cover”—she waved a hand toward his bared chest—“that oop, and
your coat does nae work because of the bandage. But if you dinnae wish to use your cloak, then a blanket would do just as well. I can fetch one for you, if you'd li—”

“
Nyet
. I am fine as I am.” Humor glinted in his green eyes. “I would worry my nakedness might offend your sense of modesty, but as you took off all my clothes when I first arrived, I need not fear.”

“I did nae have time to look. I was too busy trying to stop the blood.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, and she swallowed the wave of irritation that had made it so, and then added mildly, “I merely think you would be warmer were you to wrap oop in a blanket. That's all.”

He grinned. “But
you'll
be warmer if I do not.”

Her cheeks simply could not get hotter than they were.

He added in a smug tone, “I would be perfectly fine if you decided not to wear your shirt, as well. That would only be fair.”

“You're right; that is quite fair of you. And lecherous.”

He chuckled. “It is normal that men and women should look at one another. Surely you have seen a man's chest before?”

“Of course I have,” she said in a lofty tone. “The harvesters who come each summer to bring in the oats and barley often go withoot their shirts. And each year, men from different villages compete in the games in Inverness wearing nothing but kilts and boots.” Her father wouldn't let her watch the games, but Nik didn't need to know that.

“Ah, a woman of experience. Then I need have no fear I'm shocking your sensibilities.”

To be truthful, it wasn't her sensibilities, but other parts she didn't wish to think about that were affected by him. Nothing had prepared her for the feast before her. He was all sinew and muscle, hard and firm planes that made her fingers ache to touch him.

Somehow, Nik's bare chest was
different
from the few male chests she'd seen. The others had warranted no more than a mild glance, but she could no more ignore this one than she could stop breathing. Over the last few days, Nik's illness had kept all lustful thoughts at bay. But today he'd arisen much recovered, and she felt increasingly vulnerable when he was near.

Unaware of her turmoil, he walked farther into the sunlight, the coat swinging open. Streaks of golden sun flickered across his chest and powerful forearms, and she followed the bars of light down to his taut, ribbed stomach.

She imagined placing her hands on that hard stomach, of the warmth that would soak into her fingers from his heated skin. Of the way she could trail her hands down to—

She yanked her gaze back to his face, trying not to notice his strong neck where his dark hair curled so beguilingly, still damp from where he'd bathed in the stream not an hour ago. “Your hair has nae yet dried. You'll catch your death of the ague.”

“It will dry soon enough.”

She answered him with a sniff. This morning, after their paltry breakfast of dried venison, Nik had
announced his intentions to bathe in the stream. She'd pointed out that it would wet his bandage and potentially reopen his wound. But, instead of seeing the dangers, he'd taken her advice as a challenge.

He'd been in far better spirits since that bath. She, meanwhile, was irked.

She turned her attention back to D'yoval and threaded her fingers through his mane, untangling it as she went.

Nik crossed the clearing to stand in front of the horse, patting the animal's velvet nose. “He is beautiful,
nyet
?”

Ailsa kept her gaze on the horse. “Magnificent. The horse, I mean.”
Blast it, why did I say that? Of course I meant the horse.
She hurried to ask, “How long have you had him?”

“Four years. He was given to our country by the Prussians as an apology for their behavior on some border issues.”

“I wish someone would make such an apology to me.” She smoothed D'yoval's mane and then stood back to admire him. “You are fortunate to receive such extravagant gifts.”

“I get many gifts, but few have been as welcome as D'yoval.” Nik moved to the other side of the horse and patted its neck. “As my grandmother often says, ‘When everything is special, nothing is special.' ”

“What does that mean?”

“If you eat off a gold plate, and drink from a gold cup, and sleep in a gold bed day after day after day, there will come a moment when you will find yourself
in an inn with a blue crockery plate in your hand, and you will be astonished at the beauty.”

“Are you complaining aboot gold plates and cups? Because if you are, I'll gladly help you be rid of them all.”

He gave a dry laugh. “I sound ungrateful, and I did not mean to be. I am fortunate, and I know it. But do not think I have everything I wish for, any more than anyone else. That does not happen.”

She shouldn't have asked, for they were dancing around some sensitive subjects, but she couldn't help herself. “What sort of things
do
you wish for?”

A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “Before this journey, I would not have been able to answer that. But being away from my men, I realize how much I miss being Nik instead of Nikolai, His Royal Highness.”

“What is the difference?”

“Princes do not own. They are owned.”

“Surely it is nae so severe as that.”

“From the time I was young, I've known that one day, Oxenburg would be mine to rule. I was told by every tutor I ever had that I could not waste time playing, but must be ready to bear the weight of the crown.”

“That dinnae sound like a pleasant childhood.”

“It was . . . lonely, in some ways.” His expression softened. “Fortunately, I have brothers, and where there is a pack of boys, there is laughter and mischief.”

“All overshadowed by the dark warnings of your tutors.”

“They did what they had to, and they were right. I am the future king. Now, I perform the duties of the
future king. I eat and live and breathe as the future king. It is not just what I am—it has become who I am.”

He had smiled, though she detected a hint of sadness. “Won't you enjoy being king? It's rewarding to see your lands and people prosper. I cannae think of a happier day than when my father told me he was entrusting Castle Leod to my care.”

Nik's dark green eyes measured her. “It can be fulfilling. I do not deny that. But there's a price.”

She eyed him curiously. “Which is?”

“You have value, but not as a person. People will try to gain your favor. They will woo you, pretend to like you, act as if they care for you. And all the while, all they want is to throw dust in your eyes so you won't notice their ill intentions.”

“That sounds rather horrible.” She pursed her lips, unwilling to look away from him. Even half clothed, he had a kingly air. He wore his responsibilities and power without thinking, without being aware of it. A twinge of envy made her ask, “What exactly does a ‘future king' do?”

“I build strong alliances with those who can protect us, and fend off the treachery of others.”

“Treachery again. Is it really so common?”

His face grew grim. “There is much dishonesty in this world. I have known that since I was young.” He patted D'yoval. “It was a painful lesson. I was but sixteen; sometimes the things we learn at that age feel harsher.”

Sixteen? Ah. “A woman.”

He laughed softly. “What boy of that age thinks of anything else?”

Though he laughed, a shadow had darkened his green eyes.

“Who was she?”

“The daughter of a minor count in the Oxenburgian court. She was older than me, almost twenty.” A mirthless smile touched his lips. “That should have been my first clue, for what woman of twenty would have aught to do with a lad barely sixteen?”