The Ranger (14 page)

She heard the warning, but he was wrong. “You were amazing. I’ve never seen anyone react so quickly. It was as if ...”

Her brows drew together. The moments before the attack were coming back to her. How did he know the wolves were going to attack? It was the same as at the cliff. It was almost as if he knew what was going to happen, as if he’d sensed it before he should have.

Dear Lord,
he had
. Her eyes widened, and her gaze jerked to his. Did that explain the strange intensity she’d sensed simmering under the surface? She’d attributed it to watchfulness and keen observation, but was it something more?

She took a step backward and covered her mouth with her hand. “You
knew.
”

*     *     *

Arthur tensed, muscles clenched, as he braced himself for the fear. For the revulsion that always came on the rare occasions when someone caught a glimpse of his unusual abilities. Even his own parents had looked at him like that.

As a boy, he’d tried to pretend he wasn’t different. He’d tried to explain. Tried to make them understand that he wasn’t some kind of freak—that his senses were sharper, his awareness heightened, his skill at observation and perception keener, but that was all. He didn’t see the future. He didn’t have premonitions.

It was more an inkling.

But after a while he’d stopped trying to explain. It was easier not to deal with it at all. So he kept to himself, and didn’t allow people close enough to give them a chance to guess.

He was different, he knew now. He’d been blessed with extraordinary abilities. Being alone didn’t bother him—hell, he preferred it that way.

But Anna MacDougall wouldn’t let him be. He was trying to resist, but she kept dragging him in. And now she’d seen something that she shouldn’t have.

Though he was prepared for her reaction, her involuntary step back stung. His lungs filled with fire. He pretended not to hear her question and started back toward the horses.

What the hell did he care what she thought? He should be glad to be rid of her.

“Wait,” she said, chasing after him. “Why are you angry?”

He didn’t look at her, but kept walking. “I’m not angry.”

He only sounded that way.

“Wait,” she repeated, grabbing his arm. “I want to talk about what just happened.”

Why the hell did she always have to touch him? He jerked his arm from her grasp but made the mistake of glancing down at her face.

“God damn it, stop looking at me like that,” he growled.

His vehemence startled her, which was good, as it got rid of the hurt.

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I just stepped on that puppy of yours.”

She lifted her chin, her eyes sparking dangerously. “You’ll have to forgive me; I didn’t realize you had such a strong aversion to my touch. I’ll try to remember it in the future.”

Was the lass daft? He’d laugh if he wasn’t so furious. Aversion to her touch? It should be the other way around. She should be cringing away from him, not touching him. And certainly not looking hurt for him jerking away. What the hell was the matter with her?

She wasn’t acting the way she was supposed to. Even Catherine, the woman who’d professed to love him, had refused to be in the same room with him after he’d pushed her out of the way of a stone corbel that fell where she’d been standing a moment before.

Perhaps Anna hadn’t guessed.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable; it’s just that what you did back there was remarkable.”

She’d guessed all right. But that sure as hell couldn’t be admiration he read in her gaze.

He clenched his jaw. “I fought off a few wolves—anyone could have done as much. You make too much of it. Come. Robby will be wondering what has happened to us.”

If he’d thought to put her off, he’d failed. “It was more than that and you know it. The wolves were too far away for you to have heard them. Yet you knew they were coming. You sensed it before any normal—”

He flinched. Even after more than twenty years of it, he still flinched. That angered him more than anything else. He grabbed her arm and hauled her close to him, bringing her mouth only inches from his. Even through the anger he felt the bolt of gut-wrenching, mind-numbing lust.

She was pushing him from every direction—her incessant flirting, her sweet face and sinful body, her tantalizing scent, her bloody questions—and she didn’t know how close he was to giving her what she was asking for. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t dance. He didn’t play around. If a woman offered, he took. Simple and uncomplicated.

And he kept it that way.

“Look,” he said tightly; fighting the urge to ravish her senseless had stripped him of niceties. Throwing her up against that tree was looking too appealing. “I don’t know what the hell you think you saw, but you’re mistaken. I heard the wolves and reacted. Just because you didn’t hear them, don’t start imagining things.”

“I couldn’t have heard them,” she persisted. “They were too far away.”

“For you. You aren’t trained to look for the signs. The unnatural silence, their scent in the wind.”

But she wasn’t listening to his explanations. He could feel her eyes on his face and regretted their closeness. “What are you trying to hide?”

“Nothing.” He let go of her. Not very gently.

Her scrutiny intensified, and he had to fight the urge not to turn away. God damn it, he didn’t turn away from anything.

“I think you’re lying,” she said softly. “I think you keep to yourself so people won’t see what I just saw. I think you’re pushing me away right now for the same reason.”

Arthur stilled. Everything inside him chilled except for a small place in the very deepest part of him.
That
was burning.

He didn’t want her compassion, damn it. He wasn’t a puppy that needed rescuing.

He reacted the only way he knew how. His gaze met hers. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m pushing you away because I don’t want you?”

She gasped, flinching from the bald cruelty of his words. She blinked rapidly, and he felt the burning in his chest squeeze and squeeze. But he wouldn’t comfort her. This was for the best.

Still, her wobbly smile nearly broke him. “Much to my shame, it didn’t. I’m sorry for any embarrassment that I may have caused you.”

As regal as any queen, she turned on her heel and walked away.

And despite the fire eating away in his chest, he let her.

It was the longest ride of Anna’s life. She’d never been so humiliated in her life. But by the time they’d returned to the castle, that humiliation had turned to anger.

“
...  I don’t want you.
”

He’d
lied
.

She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d held her—he did want her. But for some reason he wanted her to think differently.

Determined to prove that she hadn’t been imagining it, when Robby came over to help her down from her horse, she handed him the puppy instead.

“Sir Arthur,” she said with exaggerated sweetness. “If you would be so kind.”

He gave her a blank look, but she was beginning to be able to read those “blank” looks and saw the flicker of suspicion.

It was warranted.

When he took her hand to help her down, she leaned too far forward, forcing him to catch her to prevent her from falling.

For one long heartbeat, she was stretched out against him, her arms laced around his neck, and her hands brushed against the thick, wavy hair that was every bit as silky soft as it looked. She wanted to dig her fingers into it and pull his face down to hers.

He made a sharp sound at the contact—a groan. That’s what it was. A deep, masculine groan. And when she looked into his eyes, she knew he was lying. He did want her. And if the white lines around his mouth and the tic twitching under his jaw were any indication, it was rather badly.

She wasn’t unaffected herself. Despite the fact that it was hardly a surprise where she’d ended up, she gasped and her heart thumped wildly against the hard, cold steel of his chest—mail or flesh, it was hard to tell the difference.

When her head stopped spinning, she unlaced her arms, allowing her body to slide down his before letting go. He was as hard and unyielding as a rock, every muscle pulled taut. She could feel the tension licking off him like flames from a fire.

“So sorry about that,” she said with a careless smile. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

His eyes narrowed, but she didn’t care. She’d proved her point. She knew it, and more importantly,
he
knew it.

“Have care, my lady,” he warned in that dark, smoky voice of his. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt doing something foolish.”

“How sweet of you to be concerned.” She almost gave him a fond pat on the cheek but thought that might be rubbing his nose in it a little too much—she had her victory. “But you needn’t worry, I know
exactly
what I’m doing.”

She took her dog from Robby and swept into the castle. Though she was tempted, she didn’t look back. She’d seen that dark glower enough to know what it looked like.

Anna might have been content to leave it at that—female pride intact—if he hadn’t made her curious. Why was he so determined to be rid of her? Was he hiding something, or did he merely seek to avoid the entanglement?

It was almost as if he’d been purposefully trying to be cruel in the forest. As if she’d hit some kind of nerve. She’d merely wanted to thank him for what he’d done—and the extraordinary abilities he’d demonstrated—but he’d reacted as if she’d accused him of being unnatural.

She bit her lip. Was that it? Was he worried about how other people would react? She supposed it was understandable. Differences weren’t tolerated well in today’s society, provoking fear and revulsion.

He’d pretended that he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

Had he? She bit her lip, no longer certain. It certainly had felt that he had at the time. It had all happened so fast. Had he read signs that she missed, or had it been something more?

Whatever it was, it seemed he didn’t want to acknowledge it as anything special. Later, he’d explained to her father what had happened in much the same way as the fall from the cliff, severely minimizing her version of the story with an explanation for everything. Her father had scolded her for putting herself in such danger over a dog and expressed his gratitude to Sir Arthur once again.

Anna didn’t understand why Sir Arthur was downplaying what had happened. His skills could be put to great use against the rebels. With his keen abilities, Bruce and his band of pirates would be hard-pressed to wage their ambush-style attacks.

But when she suggested to her father that he take advantage of Sir Arthur’s skills, making him a tracker—or better yet, a scout—you’d have thought from the knight’s reaction that she’d suggested that he clean out the garderobe. Sir Arthur had been furious at her. Each time their eyes met over the next few days, she felt the hot intensity of his gaze bore into her.

Keeping an eye on him turned out to be easier this time around. For that, she had to thank Squire. It seemed her new puppy had developed an attachment to his rescuer. As soon as Anna’s back was turned, Squire—that’s what she’d taken to calling him after she heard the men teasing Sir Arthur that he finally had a squire—would make a beeline for the knight. Whether he was in the yard practicing with the men, in the hall eating, or even in the barracks, the dog would find him. If Sir Arthur went out riding for the day, the puppy would sit whinging by the gate until he returned.

It might not have been so bad, if the poor little thing didn’t get so excited that whenever he saw the knight he peed. The last time, he’d nearly done so on Sir Arthur’s foot.

To say that the puppy was an annoyance to the knight was an understatement. Sir Arthur ignored him, shooed him away, and snapped at him, but no matter how hard he pushed him away, the puppy couldn’t get enough.

Squire was a glutton for punishment.

Anna knew the feeling. It seemed she and the pup both had a weakness for ruggedly handsome knights with wavy dark-brown hair, gold-flecked brown eyes, and dents in their chin.

She was drawn to him. Perhaps like the puppy, she sensed that Sir Arthur needed someone. His distance she saw as loneliness, his remoteness as a shield that she was determined to pierce.

Though exactly what she hoped to find, she didn’t know. And as the days passed with no cause for suspicion, her excuse for watching him began to wear thin. But if she wasn’t watching him for her father, for whom was she?

It was a question that she asked herself as she made her way to the Great Hall for the evening meal. Her father would be expecting a report soon, and she would have to give it to him. She’d found nothing. The knight’s greatest offense was a propensity to keep to himself and a keen ability to ignore her.

She knew it was time to put an end to her spying. But why was she so reluctant to let him go?

Sir Arthur was nothing like the men who normally attracted her. But she could not deny she was attracted to him—deeply attracted. More than she’d ever been attracted to a man in her life. Almost enough to make her forget how wrong he was for her.

Aye, it was time to put an end to this.

She was about to exit the spiral stairwell of the donjon into the passageway that led to the Great Hall when a yapping ball of gray-and-black fur went speeding past her feet. Nearly tripping, she muttered an unladylike curse, realizing she must not have securely latched the door to the chamber she shared with her sisters and Squire had managed to escape again.

But thankfully the closed door at the bottom of the stairwell had trapped him. When she caught up with the naughty little thing he was standing at the door, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.

She picked him up and he licked her face. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked. “Let me guess, Sir Arthur?” He barked, seemingly in the affirmative, and she laughed. “You are a fool, little one. When are you going to accept that he doesn’t want you around?”

The puppy whinged and cocked his head as if he hadn’t heard her right.