Jack: A Scottish Outlaw (Highland Outlaws Book 1) by Lily Baldwin Page A

English lords in her treacherous King’s court. He should have had his way with her. Then he would not now be paying for his self-control. With a curse, he dove once more beneath the water. That was not his way. He was not a rake like his younger brother, Rory. He was a thief—that was the beginning and end of his sins and likely enough to reserve him a place in hell as it was.
    Water sluiced off his shoulders as he strode from the brook. His body remained hard and hungry for her, despite his cold bath. Pausing only to grab his tunic, he headed straight back through the woods no more relieved than before he set out. When his hut came into view, he stopped and forced his lungs to fill. Then he blew out before taking another deep breath. An English lady had no business occupying his thoughts. He had to remain focused on what mattered most—the many people dependent on him for their very survival. His attraction to the Lady Redesdale was a physical and emotional betrayal on his part. How dare he dally with the enemy?
    Striding past the pit fire, which had smoldered down to a pile of ash, he walked right up to his door and stopped. Lips pressed tight, he considered his options. He never had any intention of forcing the lady to sleep with him in his hut. He had always planned to sleep just outside in front of the door, thus barring her way from escape. But if he were honest, sleeping with her was exactly what he wanted. He reached for the door, but his fingers froze in midair. His already erect length grew harder just thinking about her stretched out beside him. His hand dropped. He lay down on the ground, lacing his fingers behind his head. He stared up at the stars and tried to think of something other than silky brown hair and pale green eyes.
    Scowling, he lifted his head off the ground. Had he heard something? He held his breath. A quiet, muffled noise reached his ears. It was she. He pressed his ear to the door. Mayhap, she slept but not soundly, and it was her unrest he heard. A soft hiccup emanated from within. Or perhaps she had the makings of a slight illness, and it was her blocked nose that he heard. Then an unmistakable whimper reached his ears, and he could no longer deny that she was crying.
    “For pity’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head. He stood up and eased the door open. There, in the middle of his pallet, she sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands, muffling the sound.
    “Princess?” he said, quietly.
    Her hands jerked away from her face, and she turned wide, glitteringly wet, exquisitely beautiful, pale green eyes on him.
    His heart broke. He had never been able to withstand a woman’s tears. The hard front he had been struggling to hold in place since they had first met melted. At once, she was no longer Lady Redesdale. She was just Bella, a woman who had been through a great deal that day.
    “Don’t cry, Bella. Please don’t cry.”
    Hugging her arms around her legs, she buried her face, hiding her tears.
    “Go away,” she sobbed.
    He wrapped his arms around her. “Hush, lass,” he crooned. Gently, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Her wet cheek pressed against his bare chest. He sat down on the chair and gently rocked her. Her soft body yielded to his.
    “Never ye mind. Ye just cry it out, lass. Ye’ve earned yer tears.”
    Whether it was his urging or just the weight of the day, she did just that. Her arms came around his neck. He breathed in the lavender scent of her hair and held her tighter. Slowly, he stroked her back and whispered softly in her ear.  “There, there, love. ‘Twill be alright. Just let it out. Cry all ye want.”
    Her body trembled in his arms. Tears dripped down his chest. She buried closer to him, and he pressed a kiss to her brow. He let her cry until her tears ran dry. Then, even with her sorrow spent, she did not move but kept her arms around his neck. He savored their intimacy, and he