The Ranger (22 page)

As the castles were still held by the rebels, they would be forced to find other, less perilous, accommodation on the way. To avoid Bruce’s men, Anna suspected she would be seeing quite a bit of the forest.

It would be a welcome reprieve from the blazing sun. They’d been riding for a few hours, and though she wore a thin veil to protect her face, she was hot, sticky, and yes, as her brother had noticed, angry.

Furious, really.

The weather, however, was not to blame for her unusual black mood. That honor belonged to a certain interfering knight.

She’d refused to look at
him
all day. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of exactly where he was: riding at the head of the party, scouting the road ahead for signs of trouble.

Trouble
. That was an understatement. His presence on their journey would be nothing but.

“I’m fine,” she assured her brother, managing a wan smile. “Tired and hot, but fine.”

Alan gave her a deceptively lazy sidelong glance. “I thought it might have something to do with Campbell. You didn’t seem very happy to hear he would be joining us.”

Her brother was far too astute. A trait that would make him a good chief someday, but not one valued by a younger sister intent on keeping her thoughts to herself.

Despite her best effort not to react, her teeth gritted together. “It wasn’t his place to interfere.”

She couldn’t believe it when her father told her that Sir Arthur had attempted to change his mind about the journey. Failing in this, he’d asked to accompany them. His skills as a scout would help ensure their safety, he’d argued. Her father had agreed, much to Anna’s dismay.

So instead of ignoring him for a single day, she would be forced to endure his constant presence for days, possibly weeks.

Was he purposefully trying to torment her? What she had to do would be difficult enough without him around.

“He’s a knight, Anna. A scout. Reporting on the enemy position is exactly what he’s supposed to do. And I can’t say I’m not glad to have him along. If he’s as good as he claims to be, we can use him.”

Anna turned to Alan, aghast. “You agree with Father?”

His jaw locked. Alan would never openly criticize their father, even if—like now—he wanted to. “I would have preferred you stay at Dunstaffnage, although I understand why Father insisted you come along. Ross will be more amenable to a direct appeal.” He smiled. “You’re a minx, Annie-love, but a bewitching one.”

Anna’s mouth twitched. “And you are annoyingly overprotective, but I love you, too.”

He laughed, and Anna couldn’t help joining him.

Sir Arthur turned at the sound and caught her unprepared. Their gazes snagged for an instant before she turned brusquely away. But it was long enough to send a fist of pain slamming into her chest. Why did it have to hurt so badly?

Alan didn’t miss the exchange. He sobered, his gaze once again intent. “Are you sure that’s all, Anna? I know what you said, but I think there is more between you and Sir Arthur than keeping an eye on him for Father. I think you care for him.” The throb in her chest told her he was right, even if she wished it otherwise. “We can appeal to Ross without the betrothal,” her brother said gently. “You don’t need to sacrifice your happiness in the bargain.”

A swell of emotion rose inside her. How fortunate she was to have such a brother. She knew not many men would feel the same. Happiness was not usually a consideration in marriage between nobles. Power, alliances, wealth—that was what mattered. But the love Alan had found in his marriage had given her brother a unique perspective.

Yet they would have a much better chance at gaining Ross’s support with an alliance. Alan knew that as well as she did.

Besides, helping her family would never be a sacrifice. Especially since there actually had to be something to sacrifice. Arthur had made it painfully clear that there was nothing between them.

“I’m sure,” she said firmly.

The certainty in her voice must have convinced him. Alan rode with her awhile longer, recalling previous journeys they’d made in the rare times of peace, but eventually he returned to his men.

They made good progress the first day, reaching as far as Loch Lochy before stopping for the night at an inn near the southern head of the loch. The small stone and thatched building looked ancient, and given its position near an old Roman road, Anna suspected it might be.

She was stiff and achy, feeling every hour of the long day in her legs, bottom, and back, and grateful for the roof and bed, no matter how crude. She washed and managed a few bites of fish stew and brown bread before collapsing into bed, her maidservant, Berta, snoring on a pallet beside her.

The second night, however, they were not so fortunate. Her bed this night would be a pallet in a small tent in the forest just south of Loch Ness.

It had been a long day, made longer by Arthur’s steady stream of scouting reports. To avoid potentially dangerous situations, such as open stretches of road or natural places for ambushes, at times they veered well off the road. Which meant that instead of the twenty-five miles they would have been on the road, they’d probably ridden thirty-five through the dense forests and rolling hills of Lochaber.

It seemed an overabundance of caution to her. So far they’d seen nothing out of the ordinary—villagers, fishermen, and an occasional party of travelers. If Bruce’s men were patrolling the roads, they hadn’t made themselves known.

Perhaps the extra miles were another way Sir Arthur had devised to torment her? As if his presence were not enough.

Not used to the long days riding, Anna’s legs shook as she knelt at the banks of the river to wash her hands. She lowered her face, hoping to shock away some of her tiredness, but the cold splash of water did little to refresh her.

She groaned, her bones and joints objecting, as she attempted to stand. Creaking like an old woman, she made it back up to her feet.

In no hurry to return to camp, she took a moment to savor the moment of solitude. Though the rest of the party was only a few dozen yards away, the dense canopy of trees and moss seemed to suck up sound. Occasionally, she could hear the faint sound of voices, but otherwise it was remarkably quiet and the most peace she’d had since arriving in the
barmkin
yesterday morning to find Sir Arthur Campbell ready to ride out with them.

Nearly two days of trying to force herself not to look at him had taken its toll. It was worse than she’d feared. Even though she’d ignored him, avoiding his gaze every time he looked in her direction, she was painfully aware of his every movement. The hole of longing that seemed to be burning in her chest was growing bigger. Heavier. Grinding away at her emotions, leaving her raw and tender.

She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. Why did he have to be here?

Heaving a weary sigh, she turned from the soothing stream of water rushing over the rocks. Berta would send her brother after her in a panic if she didn’t return in the few minutes that she’d promised. Besides, it was getting dark.

She’d taken only a few steps into the forest when a man stepped out of the shadows to block her path.

Her pulse spiked in panic. She opened her mouth to scream, but it was smothered by recognition.

Her mouth slammed shut. Her pulse, however, remained frantic. “Don’t do that,” she snapped, gazing up into the handsome face of Sir Arthur. “You scared me to death.”

He hadn’t made a sound. How such a large man moved with such stealth, she didn’t know.

“Good,” he snapped back. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” she said with a tight smile. “I had you spying on me.”

She took supreme satisfaction from the tightening of his jaw. It was horrible of her to take such delight, but prying any kind of reaction from him seemed like a major achievement.

He gave her a long, penetrating look. “Something I’m sure you know all about.”

Now it was her jaw that felt tight.

He was standing too close. Though her brother and the rest of the men were only a shout away, this was far more alone with him than she wanted to be. Being any kind of alone with him was dangerous.

It made her remember things. Like kissing him and the taste of cloves. Or how the thick muscles of his naked chest had rippled in the candlelight. Or how the damp waves of his hair had curled against his neck. Or how he’d smelled. Like soap and—she inhaled—virile man.

He hadn’t shaved, and the stubble on his chin gave him a rugged, dangerous edge that—devil take him!—only added to his appeal.

Furious that he was getting to her after all that had happened, she tried to push past him. An exercise in futility if there ever was one. “There is no need for your concern,” she said. “I was just about to return.”

He grabbed her arm to stop her, as if the impenetrable blockade of his chest weren’t enough. “Next time you leave camp, do not do so without a guard—preferably me or your brother.”

Her cheeks burned, furious at his tone and his overbearing attitude. Sir Arthur Campbell, knight in her father’s service, overstepped his bounds. “You have no right to give me orders. The last time I looked, it was my brother—not you—who was in charge.”

His eyes flashed, and his fingers tightened around her arm. His voice was very low and his mouth ...

She gasped. His mouth was low as well. Perilously so. Achingly close to hers. If she stood up on her tiptoes, she might even be able to reach it with her own.

God, she wanted to.
Desperately
she wanted to. Heat flooded inside her, concentrating in her breasts and between her legs. Her nipples tightened, aching for the heated friction of his hard chest.

Her body’s betrayal was humiliating. He had no right to make her feel like this. Not after his cruel rejection. Not after he’d left and proved that he was the man she’d first thought him. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

“Do not challenge me in this, Anna. If you’d like me to get your brother involved, I will. I was trying to save you from the embarrassment of being treated like a child, but I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”

Something in his voice made her skin prickle with alarm. “What is it? Are the rebels near? Did you see something?”

A shadow crossed over his eyes. He shook his head. “Not so far.”

“But you sense something.”

His gaze shot to hers, dark with suspicion, as if he thought she was trying to trap him into admitting she’d been right about the abilities he’d displayed before.

He seemed poised to deny it, but then he shrugged, dropping his hand from her arm. “Aye, I feel danger. And you should, too. Don’t be fooled into thinking they aren’t out there just because we haven’t seen them.”

Chastened by what she sensed was genuine concern, she nodded. “I will do as you ask.”

Both of them knew he hadn’t asked, but he seemed satisfied enough by her agreement not to quibble with semantics.

She knew she should walk away, but something made her ask, “Why are you here, Sir Arthur? Why did you insist on joining our party?”

He looked away. Her question had discomfited him. Good.

He squared his jaw. “I thought your brother could use my help.”

“And I thought you didn’t like scouting.”

A wry, enigmatic smile curved his mouth. “It’s not as bad as I feared.”

Her eyes scanned his face, but she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. “And that’s the only reason? Because you wanted to help my brother?”

He looked down at her. The intensity of his gaze penetrated with all the subtlety of a bolt of lightning. She could see the tic pulsing below his jaw. He was restraining himself, but from what?

“Since you wouldn’t listen to my warning, I had no other choice but to come and ensure you reach your destination safely.”

Safely delivered into the arms of another man. “I’m sure Sir Hugh will appreciate your service.”

He tensed, his eyes sparking like wildfire. For a moment she thought he was going to push her up against the tree and kiss her.

But he didn’t. Instead he clenched his fists and stared down at her angrily.

It wasn’t disappointment she felt, it wasn’t, she told herself. But it didn’t work.

“Don’t push me, Anna.”

But she was past warnings. “Don’t push you? How could I push you when you don’t care? You made yourself quite clear that night in the barracks.
You
were the one who told me to stay away, remember? Not the other way around.”

“I remember.”

The huskiness in his voice told her that wasn’t all he remembered. Her skin started to heat and tighten. The memories crackled between them like a breath of air on embers, flaring, ready to catch fire.

Anna didn’t understand why he was doing this. Frustration welled up inside her. “Have you changed your mind?”

At another time Arthur would have admired her challenge. Anna’s frankness and openness were part of what made her unique. But not right now. He didn’t want to think about changing his mind. It was taking everything he had just to keep his hands off her.

Why couldn’t she be shy and retiring? That he could handle.

He knew he was acting like an arse, but two days of being near her, of watching her turn away to avoid his gaze, of her acting like he was nothing more than a hired sword, had stretched his restraint to the breaking point. He couldn’t take another evening of watching her flit around the campsite, laughing and smiling with the men. Smiles that were conspicuously absent in his direction.

He liked it on the periphery, damn it. But from his familiar position on the edge of the campsite, away from the camaraderie of the fire, he found himself longing for the warmth of one of those smiles. Some of that laughter. Some of that light.

He’d wanted to force her to acknowledge him. But all he’d done was stir up things that didn’t need stirring.

Such as the overwhelming desire to push her up against that tree and ravish her. He could almost feel her arms circling his neck, her leg wrapped around his hip, as he sank into her, slow and deep. Her soft little body stretched against his. All those seductive curves melting against him. The erotic bead of her nipples raking his chest.