Highland Jewel (Highland Brides) by Lois Greiman Page B

with water and indecently alluring. Dear God, she was a weak-kneed simpleton. Had she been thinking properly, she would have taken herself far into the woods to continue her prayers in private. Or she would have prayed aloud for his obviously irreverent immortal soul. Or ... There were probably a hundred pious things she might have done. Staring, openmouthed, like a beached fish was not amongst them.
    God had vowed not to tempt His children beyond their endurance. But Leith Forbes' very presence in her life made her question that vow. Not that she was tempted by his masculinity, of course. She was merely tempted by anger, incensed by his immodest behavior, outraged by his ...
    God's toenails, the buxom widow again had her mount pressed up close beside Leith's. One would think the man was the Lord's own blessed saint, come down to grace them all with His glowing presence. When in truth he was nothing but a ...
    She was not going to curse. He couldn't make her, even when he laughed in that gravelly way he had, making the sound rumble up from his massive chest to curl into the pit of her stomach. Her empty stomach.
    God Almighty, she hated him. Despised him! He interrupted her prayers. How could she concentrate on being pious while she was thinking up new and intriguing ways to kill him? A seductive image of herself slipping a noose about his neck nibbled at her consciousness. Of course she could simply filch the little cross and ride like hell for home, but that would not be nearly so much fun.
    And too, they'd catch her without half-trying, for she rode a lumpheaded goat while the honored Lady Devona rode the fine black mare with the prancing step.
    Rose's mood darkened, causing her to ignore the fact that she had refused to ride the spirited mare herself. Still, Forbes could have tried harder to convince her. But why should he? He was more than content to ride ahead with the widow.
    She supposed the men thought Devona was kindly, after the woman's offer to give her food the previous night. But Rose knew better. It had almost been a pleasure to refuse, despite the hunger that tortured her, for she knew the plump-breasted little hussy only hoped to attract Leith's attention.
    Her ploy was most definitely working! But it was no concern of Rose's, of course. For all she cared he could drown in her cleavage, never to be seen again—swallowed up like a small paper boat on a swelling wave—sinking, sinking ... God Almighty, she was losing her grip on reality and needed to get a hold on herself. Watchwords! She must concentrate on her watchwords.
    Hold. Fast. And pray.
     
    The bonny widow—bless her soul—was forever at his side, Leith thought gratefully. And though he might believe she was attracted to him alone, he did not, for her gaze often went to Colin. Was she trying to make his brother jealous, just as he was trying to do with Rose?
    Without looking back, Leith wondered if the wee nun still watched them as she had earlier—with that violet, gem-hard spark in her eyes. The first awakenings of sensual desire? He believed so. A flicker of jealousy? He hoped so. But were her emotions even more basic than those? Rage perhaps? He had, at times, seen her eyeing the pocket where he kept her wooden cross. Would she dare make a grab for it again? And if so, would she, the pious little holy woman, attempt to slip his own dirk between his ribs while doing her pilfering?
    The idea seemed ridiculous, unthinkable, until one looked into the eerie, bottomless fathoms of her eyes. There were indiscernible thoughts there—unreadable emotions. Still, any emotion was preferable to her prayerful indifference, for he had an urgent mission and precious little time.
    Scotland lay ahead, soothing his soul somewhat. "The border to me homeland," he said quietly, pulling his thoughts from the lass who plagued him.
    "Let us both find our hearts' desire there," said Devona quietly.
    Leith could feel two pairs of eyes watching them as he lowered his