The Beautiful Stranger (11 page)

What did he think he was doing? Kerry glanced over her shoulder a third time, moaned at his charming smile, and jerked her gaze straight ahead. Following her, that was what, and had been for a good hour or more. But to where for Gods sake? He was so determined to go to Perth! This was impossibleshe could not have a fancy Englishman follow her home!

Exasperated, Kerry paused by a fallen log at the edge of the heath where the forest rose up again and turned around. Her satchel by her side, her arms folded tightly across her middle, she glared at Arthur Christian as he strolled to where she stood as if he was out for his Sunday constitutional. Do you follow me now? she demanded.

Absolutely not, he said, as if insulted by the notion. I am going with.

Her mouth dropped openindignation, confusion, and a strange, pleasurable heat swirled through her all at once. Going with? You you canna just follow me home!

Why not?

B-because! she stammered, confused by the change in him. Because its not right! I doona even know you! You are to Perth, not the Highlands!

Actually, I am to Pitlochry. But it would seem to suit us both if I were to see you home and then continue on.

But you canna! I can hardly go running about the countryside with a perfect stranger!

Why thank you kindly, madam, but I am hardly perfect, he said, smiling impudently.

Kerry gaped at him. How had she done it? How had she managed to get herself into such a predicament? Was the weight of the world not enough for her? Must she also bear this catastrophe? She sank down onto the fallen trunk and stared helplessly at him. Its my punishment, no? I shot you and now you would ruin me.

He chuckled, sank down on his haunches next to her. Actually, Id prefer to strangle you, he cheerfully corrected her. But the truth is that I am a gentleman, Mrs. McKinnon, and I cannot let you wander off alone. If you are too stubborn to return to Perth, then I shall just accompany you home. There is no point in arguing, my mind is very much set on it. Now. Since Ive determined to be so very sporting about the whole thing, how about giving over one of those delectable scones? he asked, motioning to her satchel.

She stared at him, tried to determine if those hazel eyes lied, but saw nothing other than an insufferably cheerful sparkle and the flecks of green. Apparently she had lost what was left of her senses, because after a moment, Kerry reached for her satchel. Theyd be called biscuits around here, she muttered.

They sat side by side on the fallen trunk, munching the last two biscuits. Part of her thought she ought to protest a little louder, but another part of her smothered what was undoubtedly a weak protest altogether. From all appearances, there was no life in this wilderness except sheep and, truly, she was grateful for the companionship. As for her reputation, well she hardly cared anymore. Only one step away from being married to some religious zealot or a man with the mind of a child, she might as well throw caution to the wind. If she was to be ruined, it certainly did not hurt that it would be in the company of such a magnificent specimen of man.

When they finished their biscuits, she had made up her mind. He could accompany her to Dunkeld, and she said as much. The man smiled at her as if it had been a foregone conclusion all along, and offered his hand to help her to her feet. She ignored the tiny jolt of heat that went through her when she laid her hand in his; she dismissed the gratitude when he picked up her satchel and very jauntily perched it on his shoulder. And she refused to allow his gaze to melt her into a puddle by staring straight ahead at the ground in front of her as they set out.

I would ask, however, if you are quite certain that the River Tay is due north?

I am quite certain, she responded airily. We shall reach it by noon if not before.

But at the noon hour, they were still deep in the forest, guided only by an occasional glimpse of the sun above the treetops as they trekked across terrain that grew increasingly steep. Kerrys feet were killing her the boots she wore were her good ones, handed down from Mrs. Wallace. They were too big for her feet, so she reserved them for church and important outings such as her disastrous call to Moncrieffe

House and Mr. Abernathy in Dundee. They were not made, obviously, for long treks into the Highlands, and she could not help but envy Arthur Christians fine leather boots. Her heels screamed with blisters, and now she was having difficulty keeping up with the beautiful stranger.

He had gone ahead; he was standing on top of a large rock, looking off into the distance when she finally climbed up a steep incline. No sign of the river as yet, Im afraid, he said apologetically, as if he were the one to have suggested this ridiculous trek.

The announcement brought her dangerously close to tears. She looked helplessly around themnothing but trees and more trees, the only change being that the forest ground was growing rockier and they were moving higher. The air was cooler, too, and she could smell the faint but distinct scent of rain.

They were lost.

She had made them lost. For all she knew, she had led them in the opposite direction of where they needed to be. It was more than she could bear, and much to her mortification, her bottom lip began to tremble. She quickly bit down on it, convinced that the most humiliating thing she could do at this moment was cry.

Theres no cause for despair, Mrs. McKinnon, he said kindly, and leapt gracefully from the rock. Weve managed to keep on a northern course. Well find your river yet.

One fat tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek; she looked down. How could he be so kind? So so generous after all she had done to him?

Oh no, now that wont do, he said, and she heard the twigs snapping beneath his boots as he approached her. No, no, we cant have this. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder; Kerry fought the urge to fling herself into his arms and sob. Instead, she hastily wiped the tear from her cheek and folded her arms tightly across her middle, ashamed unto death to be falling apart as she was. Im sorry, truly I am. Its just that Its just that I canna take any more. Its my feet they they hurt a wee bit.

A wee bit, eh? His hand slid smoothly from her shoulder, down her back. Well then, well just have to tend to them. Weve too far to walk to be suffering, even a wee bit. He gestured toward the rock on which he had been standing. Lets have a look then, Mrs. McKinnon.

Its no bother, really. We should keep on

A few minutes rest will do no harm, he said authoritatively, and gestured again toward the rock. The pain of her first step made her knees buckle; Arthur Christian made a sound of disapproval, and before Kerry could protest, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the rock. You should have told me sooner, he scolded her as he put her down. He went down on one knee before her and slid his hand to her calf. The quick, scorching heat of his touch through her thin stockings made her flinch; he looked up, brows raised. You may put your modesty aside, Mrs. McKinnon. They are, after all, only feet.

Aye, they were only feet, but the feel of his fingers on her leg as he unlaced her boot was sending pulses of white-hot heat all through her. He leaned back on his heels, propped her foot on his thigh and gently massaged the bottom of her foot.

Oh Lord, she had died and gone to heaven. The sensation of his massage on her foot was divinesweet and painful at once, soothing the muscles all the way up her leg. Kerry closed her eyes, let the gloriously wonderful sensation fill her. When his deep chuckle broke the spell, she reluctantly opened her eyes.

You purr like a cat. Now then, well have to have those stockings off, he said, and nonchalantly reached to remove the boot from her other foot.

Well have what?

The stockings must come off. Your heels have been rubbed raw and must be bandaged.

Kerry blinked, amazed that first, he could tell her to take off her stockings without the slightest hesitation, and second, that she could take her stockings off in the presence of a man who was not her husband. But when he began to massage her other foot, all sense of propriety fled her head. She hardly cared if he was the Holy Pope in Romeshe would do just about anything for him to continue massaging her feet.

He laughed, patted her foot affectionately, and stood, smiling down at her. I need to find something suitable for a poultice. Off with the stockings, my dear.

My dear. The small endearment drifted over her like silk, and Kerry smiled, a little deliriously, and continued smiling as he disappeared into the woods. Had she ever been so affected by a man? Certainly Fraser had never dissolved her with a mere touch. She dreamily did as she was told and removed her practical stockings, wincing at the sight of her blistered heels.

He returned a few moments later with a handful of ivy. He knelt before her again and, sliding his hand halfway up her calf, lifted her foot to examine it. Dear God, he muttered, frowning, then carefully put her foot down. You should have told me sooner, he said again, and popped several of the ivy leaves into his mouth, chewing them as he removed his neckcloth. He fished a knife from his boot and split the cloth, ripping it into two long strips. Then he removed the pulp he had made from his mouth and winked at her.

Forgive me, madam, he said, and pressed the chewed leaves to the blisters. The effect was instantly soothingKerry sighed as he wrapped one half of his silk neckcloth tightly around her heel and ankle.

When he was through wrapping the other foot, he instructed her to don her stockings so that he could help her into her boots, chuckling as he turned away to give her some privacy. Kerry smiled at his broad back. This man, this stranger, was titillating her with the heat of his touch and his apparent cheerful nature.

Perhaps she had done herself an enormous favor when she shot him.

Im done, she said.

He turned and fetched one boot. All right, then, lets see if these boots wont last you a while longer. He carefully lifted her foot; between the two of them, they managed to slip the boot on her foot. He made her stand and walk before he would consent to moving on. The poultice buffered the blisters and the bandage kept the boot from slipping. While her heel hurt, it was certainly bearable.

I canna thank you enough, she said, grinning her great approval as she sat to fit the other boot. They are greatly improved.

Smiling, he took the second boot from her hand. It occurs to me that with our new level of familiarity we might consent to using our Christian names, wouldnt you agree? he asked, slipping the boot on her foot.

Oh aye, she would agree.

Splendid. You may have your choicemy name is Arthur William Paddington Christian. Lord Christian to

some. Merely Arthur to my mother. I suppose that should do just as well as any of them. And what is your name, Mrs. McKinnon?

Kerry. Just Kerry.

Arthur William Paddington Christian seemed taken aback by that; his hazel eyes locked with hers as he murmured, Just Kerry.

The sound of her name on his lips was magical; he continued to hold her ankle and her gaze, his eyes seemingly probing her, down to where her heart was now pounding wildly beneath her breast. She hadnt experienced a mans touch in years, what seemed like a lifetime, really, and she hadnt known she was so hungry for it. Had Fraser ever looked at her so potently? Kerry felt her face flood with heat, felt the tingle of his fingers on her skin, felt all of her senses suddenly sharpened by the mere presence of him.

And then suddenly he let go, dropping her foot to the ground and quickly lacing her boot before coming to his feet. Well then, Just Kerry, shall we find the River Tay? he said, and stepped away to remove his collar now that his neckcloth was wrapped around her feet.

Yes, she thought, they had best find the River Tay before she did something foolhardylike throw herself on top of her beautiful stranger and kiss his breath away.

They walked for what seemed hours, but Arthur was damned glad of it, for every step he took moved him one step farther away from the insanity that had invaded him in the woods. For one long, incredibly intense moment, he had fought a raging desire to kiss the words just Kerry from her lips. It was the way she said it, the brilliant little smile behind it, the luster of her blue, blue eyes. Something in him had snapped and burst into a desire for a kiss that he had not felt in a very long time. And he had almost acted on it, too, imagining that he would start with her trim ankle, work his way up her shapely calf, then proceed to kiss every inch of Just Kerry.

It hadnt helped that he had awoken this morning with that very shapely leg slung across his groin. He had thought about it all day as she had marched in front of him, that little bum swinging from one side to the other and back again

Fortunately for them both, he still possessed some semblance of reason, but what in Gods name was he thinking? That he would simply tumble a Scottish widow in the woods then deposit her on her doorstep before continuing on his merry way? All right, she was terribly alluring with that mess of black curls and pale blue eyes. And when she had unbuttoned the top of her traveling gown for a bit of relief from the heat, the hint of tender flesh exposed at her throat had almost undone him. He wanted to sink his teeth into that flesh, shove his hands through her hair, feel the soft curve of her bare breast against his skin.

With every bone-jarring step he prayed that the desire would disappear, and would have walked all day for it, but it did not feel enough. He had even tried to stop the absurd thoughts floating around his head by asking about her visit to Dundee. That tactic had actually boomeranged on himlistening to her halting description of a husband who had left her in what he gathered was a situation of some straits just made a strange, primordial anxiety surge to the forefront of his mind. Arthur had instantly disliked the deceased Mr. McKinnon.

His anxious state of mind grew even worse when she asked about his family. When he explained to her that Alex was the duke of Sutherland, she was as impressed as he knew she would be, exclaiming just like every other woman he had ever known. But then she asked what exactly it meant to be the brother of a duke, and he found himself explaining the structure of the aristocracy and the peerage, the hierarchy