Sword for His Lady (29 page)

There was a fire burning near the face of the outcropping they had just come around. It was completely hidden from the open space. Over six dozen horses and men were taking their ease near the fire, the scent of roasting rabbit floating in the air. The orange flicker from the fire showed her the colors of the MacLeod plaid in their kilts. They looked up, but turned their backs once they realized their laird had returned with a female.

“Ye would never see trouble coming, lass. The Ross have no idea we are on their land.”

Saer let out a whistle, which was answered in kind. She didn't care how much truth there was in his words. He slid off his horse and handed the reins to a younger boy who had come up to serve his laird. Saer handed off the reins of her mare to another lad before dismounting.

“Will ye dismount, or shall I assist ye, lass?”

Nareen lifted her leg and slid to the ground. She did it too fast, and her ankle bent, but she recovered, welcoming the twinge of pain, because it gave her something to focus on besides his unsettling presence. Once on the ground, she battled the instinct to feel small next to Saer MacLeod.

She would not be made to feel anything by the man, and that was final.

“Ye have no authority over me, Laird MacLeod.” She reached for the reins of her mare, but the lad was leading the horse away. “I'll be going where I please.”

“Go into the night, and I'll follow ye.” His eyes flickered with a warning. “As much as I admire the wild streak in ye, it will nae protect ye from men set on feuding. Yer brother is me friend and ally. 'Tis me duty to see ye protected.” His tone was firm.

She bristled. “I do nae wish to be under yer protection,” she insisted. “I've made me own place. Ye may tell me brother I absolved ye of any responsibility.”

“I've clasped yer brother's wrist and called him friend. Honor is not absolved by words.” He stepped closer. “But that is nae the only reason I will ride out after ye, Nareen Grant.”

His voice had deepened and his tone made her knees go weak. She detested the reaction, willing herself to ignore it. Yet it persisted, turning and twisting through her like some sort of dark suggestion she couldn't ignore because it was inside her.

“I must return to me mistress.”

“Ye're hiding in yer position,” he accused softly. “Ye are the daughter of an ennobled laird, nae a serving lass.”

“I made a place for meself when the one me noble family sent me to was sordid,” she defended.

“Something ye are to be admired for.” His expression changed, the hard set of his lips softening as he moved even closer. She lost the battle to ignore her response. He was too near to ignore completely; the soft night breeze carried the scent of his skin to her.

She stepped back. His lips parted, flashing his teeth as victory filled his eyes.

“Ye intrigue me, Nareen Grant. Ye are noble-born, yet ye did nae meekly accept yer plight with yer cousin.”

“Of course I did nae, I am a Grant,” she answered with pride. His dark eyes brightened with approval and something that looked like intent. “Do nae be intrigued.” She stepped to the side, to place more space between them. “For I am nae interested in ye a bit.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “I'm willing to wager I can change yer mind, lass.”

Her eyes widened, a sickening twist of nausea shooting through her belly. “I am nae something to be made sport of.”

And she couldn't bear it. The need to retch was growing as she battled the image of him taking her on the ground while his men ignored them.

There was nothing to stop him. Once more, she had only her wits, and it shamed her to know that was by her own doing. Reckless choices often delivered harsh consequences. But she was nae going to submit easily.

“Ye claim me brother is yer friend,” she reminded him. “I believe he would nae care to know ye are trifling with me.”

His expression hardened. “Yer cousin Ruth has paid for her deeds, but I wonder if stripping her of her freedom and placing her and her entire estate under the guardianship of a trusted man was enough. She bred a fear in ye. For that, she has nae been punished enough.”

It was true, but she couldn't share such a thing with him. Not with anyone.

“Ruth no longer rules her estate?”

Saer shook his head. “Her choices are limited to what fare she might enjoy from the kitchen and what dress she may wear.”

For a moment, Nareen recalled the gleam that always brightened her cousin's eyes when she was laying out her plans. The staff lived in fear of being singled out by their mistress. “Ruth thrived on control. She'll hate having none.”

“Then it was well done.”

His voice had a deep timbre that struck her as too familiar, too kind, too focused upon her. She recoiled from it, shaking her head because she didn't want anything about Ruth to matter to her. “I do nae care what became of her. She means naught to me.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek. “'Tis a sad thing to see how hard yer feelings are. But there is naught more to fear, she'll nae have the opportunity to inflict such ills again.”

Nareen jerked away from the contact. She even took a swipe at his hand, but he moved faster, withdrawing in time to avoid being struck. Someone chuckled from where his men clustered near the fires, but Saer was watching her from narrowed eyes.

“I am nae afraid of anything,” she assured him.

“Is that so?” Saer inquired in a silky-smooth tone.

Nareen nodded. Satisfaction began to fill her, but it was cut short as he reached out and stroked her face again. She jumped, completely unable to control her reaction.

“Ye are making sport of me in front of yer men, like a savage.”

His eyes glittered, but it wasn't with the outrage Nareen had intended to provoke. Instead, there was an unmistakable pleased looked in those dark orbs.

“I
am
a savage, Nareen.” He stepped forward, placing himself within touching range again. “I do nae let words stand alone. If ye truly have no interest in me, there is no reason to avoid me touch. Stand steady and prove ye are nae moved. I have no taste for a frigid woman.”

She laughed at him but stepped back again. “Then it seems we have a common ground, for I crave no man's touch.”

His lips thinned. “Now that is something ye shall have to prove as well.”

“I will nae. Me word should be enough on the matter, if ye truly are me brother's friend.” She didn't care to hide behind her brother's name, but the circumstances offered her few alternatives.

“As ye noted, I am a savage, and I always demand proof before I believe.”

This time, she was ready when he reached for her cheek. She stepped aside, avoiding him. She was just beginning to smile with her victory when he closed his hand around her wrist. He really was huge. His fingers closed easily around her smaller wrist, clasping it in an iron grip. She braced herself for pain, but there was none, only a secure hold that defied her attempt to break it.

“Release me.” Her voice had risen, and she shut her mouth before revealing any more of her unsettled state.

“Prove ye are unmoved, lass, and I shall be content to accept yer dismissal.” His tone had deepened, becoming something hypnotic.

“I am irritated.” And remaining still was proving too difficult. She twisted her hand, trying to break his hold again.

“Aye, ye are that.” He lifted her hand to his face and pressed a kiss on the delicate skin of her inner wrist. She shuddered, the touch intensely intimate. She'd never realized her skin might be so sensitive. The simple touch of his lips unleashed a bolt of sensation that shook her all the way down to her toes. His eyes filled with satisfaction.

“But ye are also affected.”

He released her, and she stumbled back a pace because she'd been resisting his hold so greatly. Laughter erupted from his men. Saer stiffened, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?” she said. “Are ye trying to impress me by controlling yerself now that ye see yer men are enjoying the sport ye are making of me?”

“Aye, I am,” he answered darkly. “I am nae the one who chose this setting for our meeting, Nareen. Ye should nae have refused to see me again at court. That left me no choice but to chase ye.”

“Ye have no right to chase me, nor take me mare's reins.”

He offered her only a slight tilt of his head. “Riding through the night hours is nae safe.”

“Ye were doing it,” she pointed out.

He reached back and grasped the pommel of the long sword that was strapped to his back. “I am more prepared than ye, lass.”

“So ye think,” she warned.

His eyes narrowed again, this time sweeping her from head to toe. He wouldn't find her dagger. At least, not until it was too late.

“I can see to meself,” Nareen assured him, her confidence was high when it came to protecting herself. The knowledge restored her balance, and it was a relief.

She turned and made to go after her mare. She felt his gaze on her, but he didn't try to stop her. The young lad who had taken her mare watched as she untied the knot that secured her bridle to the other horses. No one spoke a word, but they watched her, some of the retainers stroking their beards.

Nareen mounted and turned her mare toward the path that led away from the hidden campsite. She pressed her knees into the sides of the mare to get her moving.

Saer was no longer in sight. The urge to look around for the MacLeod laird was almost irresistible, but she lifted her chin and headed up the path. Her jaw was aching by the time she gained the high ground, because she was gritting her teeth.

But she was satisfied.

She was on her way, going where she wished.

Once out of the woods, her mare picked up speed, crossing the open space that allowed the Ross fortress to see invaders coming—the site for the castle had been chosen because of the natural clearing. The gate watch made her wait while they scanned the land. She glanced behind her, looking back toward the wooded area. For a moment, something moved, and Saer emerged for just a split second.

“Open the gate,” she called up.

“Ye'll wait on the captain's word,” a retainer called back down. “Do nae say the Grant leave their gates open in the dark of night.”

Of course they didn't. No one did. The only reason she was allowed out was because the Ross truly did not care if she returned. A servant was replaceable, especially one from another clan. She'd taken solace in that fact, but now, she realized how foolish she had been.

Saer MacLeod could have kept her, and no one would have bothered to send out even a single rider to look for her. As much as she detested the facts of the world, she could not deny that the Grants had enemies—every clan did. Even on Ross land, she might find herself under attack from one of her brother's enemies. If Saer could find her, so could others.

It was time to think about her circumstances.

“It's clear,” the captain of the watch called from the top of the corner tower.

The portcullis was raised just enough for her to enter. But the moment the gate closed behind her, she realized she was there only because Saer had allowed it. His stallion was capable of running her mare to ground.

He'd allowed her to return.

That knowledge unleashed several emotions she wanted to ignore. But as she returned her mare to her stall and rubbed her down, there was no way to hide from her own thoughts.

Saer MacLeod had allowed her to decide what she wished. His fellow Highlanders might call him a savage, but he was far more accommodating than she expected of a man.

It was what he wanted, no doubt. All men craved the same thing from women.

It was more than a word. The idea whispered through her thoughts and along her skin, raising goose bumps. She shivered, but realized she was actually trembling. She hissed, letting her temper flare in the hopes it would burn away the memory of his touch.

Another emotion teased her, warm as a flash of temper, but it wasn't anger. She frowned as she failed to understand it. Even if she detested the man and everything about him, the memory of his lips against her wrist filled her thoughts, leaving behind a slight sting on her cheeks.

She shook her head and made her way toward her bed.

She would not think about his touch or the way it made her feel. There would be no lament over the choice she had made to reject him.

There would not be.

* * *

“I'm surprised ye let her go back into that fortress,” Saer's captain remarked when he joined him at the edge of the clearing. “I do nae think she'll be making it simple for ye to catch her again.”

“I hope not.”

Baruch chuckled. “Are ye sure ye want that one, Laird?”

Saer cut his captain a hard look. “That is what I'm here to discover. She intrigues me, and I confess I've never been impressed with a lass's strength before.”

“Her brother agreed to yer suit,” Baruch reminded him. “It would be a lot simpler to learn what it is ye want to know if ye had kept her.”

Saer looked back at the Ross fortress. “If I did that, she'd be able to dismiss me the same as those her cousin allowed to make sport of her.” His tone betrayed his anger. “She will come to me.”

“And how do ye figure to make that happen?”

Saer turned his stallion to head back to the camp. “She craves freedom. Nae the inside of that fortress.”

Baruch slowly smiled. “And ye've cleverly made it so she is the one who has caged herself. Well played, Laird. Even a spitfire cannae claim ye forced her inside that gate.”

“She will not,” Saer confirmed. “Nareen Grant will notice exactly what I did. She is no simpleton.”

Baruch let out a low whistle. “Careful, Laird, a spitfire is often more trouble than she's worth. Once the passion cools, ye'll be stuck with a harpy for a wife. One that will have the care of yer daughters.”