Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy) (10 page)

Douglas didn’t like her riding with
Brendan one bit, but he couldn’t take her back now without Brendan or Gil
commenting on it. He glanced at her and remembered how his hands rubbed her
calves, how smooth and soft her skin felt, and how difficult it had been to
walk away. A chore such as rubbing a woman’s calves would normally be enjoyed,
but all he could think about was moving his hands upward. Aye, it was getting
harder and harder to deny his attraction.

He looked at Brendan, then back to
Isabel. She appeared to be taken with his cousin, which made him cross. She
held Brendan closer than she should have, settling her cheek against his back. He
heard Isabel’s giggle and he seethed inside when her face cuddled against
Brendan’s back. Damn Brendan. He admitted that he didn’t like her attention on
another man, even if it was his own cousin. Jealousy such as he’d never felt, invaded
him and made him unsettled.

His eyes shot daggers at Brendan,
but the fool concentrated on the path and hadn’t noticed. Douglas wanted to
retrieve her, and have her arms hold him boldly, but he didn’t. Nay, he
couldn’t give into his lustful imagination. She wasn’t the willful insolent
woman he’d thought her to be. She was a sweet, gentle maiden who needed a
warrior’s protection, he kept reminding himself.

They continued riding north, and during
the four days that Isabel rode with them, Douglas distanced himself. He
retreated inside himself, hoping his attraction would abate. When they stopped
on the fourth night, after riding a great stretch, he remained quiet. Isabel
kept to herself too, and watched Gil making a large fire.

“I’m going to hunt for food.” Gil
walked away before anyone could comment.

Douglas watched Brendan eying her
when Isabel sat between them. Their silence seemed to make her uneasy, and she
tinkered with her satchel. The night had grown chilly, and she’d wrapped her
cloak around her shoulders. The farther north they rode, the colder the climate
became. He’d thought to tell her that, but since he’d kept his distance, he
hadn’t. He dismissed her, and peered into the fire, trying to concentrate of
the licks of flames.

When Douglas looked up, he found
Brendan watching him with amusement.

“This reminds me of when we
traveled with Colin. Remember when we tried to get him to admit his feelings
for Julianna? Maybe you should think about that.” Brendan rose. “I’m going to
assist Gil in the hunt.”

Douglas scoffed. He wasn’t about to
admit anything. He heard Brendan laugh as he walked away. Had he left him so
he’d have to speak to her? Douglas denied his attraction to the lass, and he
realized Brendan knew. Whenever they visited home or other clans, he’d always
enjoyed women. Hadn’t he talked of marrying? He snuffed the thoughts, and
watched his cousin disappear into the forest.

Douglas noticed Isabel opening her
satchel and retrieving a comb. She ran it though her hair, wrapping the length
in a bun, securing it with a tie. He looked up at the sky, staring at the
flickering stars. The night air felt good. He longed to remove his tartan, and
feel its crispness against his skin, but with the lass present he kept it on. Besides,
if he removed it, it would likely lead to … he shook his head. Breathing in the
fresh scent of heather and pine, he tried to abate his longings. On the morrow,
he could hand her over to his sister.

The journey had become burdensome
and almost painful. He hadn’t been this attracted to a woman for sometime. He
thought about the time when he’d traveled to England with Brendan in search of
a wife. He’d postponed marrying considering what Morna subjected him to, and
because of his father’s death. He hadn’t given the matter deliberation since. Clan
matters overwhelmed him, and he hadn’t attended to personal affairs. It felt
good having responsibilities, and to be needed by his people. He had forgotten
how bored he’d been then and how he’d longed for a lady of his own who would
bring joy to his life, like his cousin Colin had with Julianna.

But Isabel was Candace’s friend,
and he wouldn’t dishonor her. Being close to her these past days made him
addled. His discipline lay in shreds. If only she wasn’t his sister’s friend,
he’d have her under his plaid and would claim her. Aye, he would use his charm
to convince her of his earnestness. His body stirred, unjust thoughts raced
through his mind. She was indeed fair game. Hadn’t his sister said they’d
promised to attend each other’s weddings? Since his sister hadn’t gone to hers,
he assumed she wasn’t married, but she wasn’t his for the taking. He would keep
his distance until he could deliver her into his sister’s arms.

Douglas hadn’t slept much since she
joined the jaunt, and when he had, he’d dreamt of her. He longed to rid himself
of his desire, thinking it, the only way to cool his fire. Deep in thought, he
didn’t notice that she watched him. The ambiance of the night sky did little to
soften his expression. He realized that he scowled like the devil, and softened
his face.

“Laird Kerr, are you unwell?”

“Nay, why do you ask?”

“You look cross. Are we in hostile
territory?”

He shook his head. “I’m just
thinking about clan matters.”

She smiled. “Oh, are we close to
arriving?”

Her soft voice pulled him from his
ruminations. He looked at her lips, wondering if they were as soft as he
remembered. Would that he could taste her once more. He’d like to unbind her
hair, and feel it run though his fingers again. His mind reeled with visions of
their kiss.

“Uh … we’ll reach my land on the
morrow. Are you anxious to get there?”

“Most definitely, riding has been
hard. I’m not used to such strenuous activity.”

“That’s certain,” he thought aloud.

He wanted to taste her—it was only
a kiss, and he wouldn’t ravish her, he swore. He couldn’t take his eyes off her
lovely mouth. Her eyes seemed to watch him in return; she licked her lower lip,
which made him tense. She swayed when he pulled her into his arms. He settled
his mouth on hers, caressing her lips with his tongue.

Douglas groaned, then deepened the
kiss, and trained her tongue to move in the sensual motion that he liked. Aye,
her lips were soft as a bairn’s cheek. His control faltered when her arms
slipped around his neck and held him tightly. Her sweet tongue heightened his
aching need.

Isabel melted in his embrace. He
could feel her breasts pressed against his hard chest. His senses came alive,
and he was thrilled by the awakening that she’d spurred. Douglas shifted to
pull her closer. The little sounds from her throat intensified his lust, and he
became consumed with his intention. His control completely vanished. Nothing
mattered but the woman now held in his arms.

In the recess of his mind, he heard
the sound of horses. Tearing his mouth from hers, he drew his sword as he
looked for the danger. Two riders came at them speedily. His mind instantly
jarred from lust and focused on the danger.

Douglas stood quickly, and he
pulled her to her feet, shoving her behind him in a protective gesture. He held
his sword in attack position, ready to strike out. Prepared to protect her, he
stood his ground against the intruders. Two against one, it hardly seemed fair.
Even if there had been ten men, he’d still win the battle. No one would get
near enough to harm her.

Isabel leaned on his shoulder and
watched the riders with interest. She released him, and stepped backward. He
didn’t see her take a dagger from inside her satchel that lay opened at her
feet. Little did he know, she was prepared to protect him at all cost.

Douglas swung his sword in an arc,
trying to unseat the first rider from his horse, but missed when the man passed
by. The second man rode closely behind the first, but he didn’t fare so
favorable when Douglas’ sword struck his side. His shout of pain riddled with
disbelief. The man fell sideways, landing in a heap on the ground. His horse
ran off into the forest. The man wore the Barclay clan’s plaid, and he had to
be an outcast. Douglas watched him shake on the ground, his blood pooling
beside him, then he stilled.

In the corner of his eye, Douglas
could see Isabel had slunk to the ground. She seemed terrified, and repeated,
“Oh, drat,” again and again.

Douglas turned to face the other
foe, and saw the man lying dead on the ground. How had that happened? He missed
the first man, hadn’t he? Confusion set in, until he looked at Isabel again.

“Oh, drat, Laird Kerr,” she
whimpered.

“Are you harmed?” He tried to sound
calm so he wouldn’t panic her, but his voice hardened.

“Nay, verily, I’m not hurt.” Isabel
placed her hands over her face and wept. “That man messed up my hair.”

Douglas rolled his eyes heavenward,
thinking her comment hilarious, given that they were just set on by marauders. He
strode to the man who fell behind him, and pulled a dagger from the man’s neck.
The clean kill dispatched the man. Who threw the dagger? Where did it come
from? Gil or Brendan? The dagger didn’t look familiar, but it could have been
one of his comrades. He searched the tree line, but couldn’t see them. Mayhap
they went to secure the location.

Douglas needed to remove the bodies
from camp so Isabel wouldn’t see the blood or gore. She was frightened and
probably had never seen the sight of blood before. He eyed the strange dagger,
and didn’t recognize it as Brendan or Gil’s, but he put it inside his boot. He
pulled one man by his feet then returned for the other.

The rebels often camped in these
woods. Barclays, probably outcasts turned to marauding, since they were so far
from their land. They deserved to die for riding on his land. Douglas didn’t
give them another thought. He returned to camp, went to Isabel, and tried to
comfort her.

“They’re gone now, you’re safe.” He
put his arm around her shoulder, patting her.

“It was ghastly, Laird Kerr. That
horrid man pushed me to the ground. What did they want?”

“Probably a bean-sith, sitting
beside a camp,” Douglas mumbled. She certainly presented the vision of a faerie,
as alluring as the forest creatures Highlanders so loved.

*****

Brendan watched the folly from the
forest with Gil beside him. They were about to give aid when they saw her throw
the dagger. Frozen to the spot, they watched the foray in stunned silence.

“What do you make of that?” Gil
asked, whistling.

“She’s skilled at weaponry. Did you
see the way she threw the dagger? Aye, she saved him,” Brendan replied
honestly.

“I heard the blade slice the air
even from here. The man didn’t stand a chance, none at all. Faigh muin, never
saw anything like it. Why’d she cry then?”

“Who knows what’s in a woman’s
mind? She was irked about her hair being mussed, and yet two men lie dead. She
didn’t cry over that. She’s no coward.”

“I do believe I like her even
more.” Gil laughed.

Brendan pulled Gil’s arm, and they
walked back to camp. They tried to act unaffected, as they sat next to Douglas.
Gil began skinning the two hares he’d caught.

“There are two dead men in the wood
over there.” Douglas pointed to the spot where he’d taken them.

“What happened?”

“They came at us, but I felled one.
Who struck the other?”

Douglas must have thought Gil or he
had given aid. Brendan shook his head, baffled. “You didn’t see what …” He
started to speak, but then noticed Isabel’s look, she turned white.

She shook her head at him, pleading
with her eyes, not to give her away. Somehow, she knew they were aware of her
caper. Brendan wanted to laugh. Why didn’t she want Douglas to know she’d
killed the foe? Hell, he’d been impressed by her aim, and knew that Douglas
would be too.

“It wasn’t me, Douglas. Did you
give aid, Gil?” Brendan almost laughed at Gil’s brightening face.

Gil looked at Isabel, then back at
him. Isabel looked like she would weep, but Gil took pity on her, and nodded.

“You’ve my thanks, Gil. Nice pluck.
I didn’t know you could throw a dagger like that. Must have been a fair
distance. I’m impressed.” Douglas handed the dagger to Gil.

“I’ve uh … been practicing, Laird.”
Gil tucked the large dagger inside his boot.

“I didn’t think you could use a
dagger like that. I must reward you,” Douglas said.

“Nay,” Gil yelled, and then
assuaged, “Nay, you mustn’t. I’m here to protect ye, Laird, and that’s just
what I did. No reward is necessary.”

Douglas appeared to be confused by
his evasiveness. It wasn’t like either of them to deny a good kill, especially
when a bastard deserved it. Brendan usually took credit, even if he hadn’t
participated and should have this time. He was amazed that Douglas believed Gil
had thrown the dagger, considering Gil was more of a scholar and didn’t use
weapons much.

Smoke from the fire filled the air
and crackled as they waited for the hares to cook. Isabel moved closer to the
fire to warm herself. After eating the meat and cakes she was given, she lay
down and went to sleep. Brendan continued to ponder the situation, watching his
cousin stew in the unhappiness of a man thoroughly confused.