Jack: A Scottish Outlaw (Highland Outlaws Book 1) by Lily Baldwin Page B
Authors: Lily Baldwin
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continued to rock her, imagining the sea cradled them both.
After a while, the heat of her breath warmed his chest at regular intervals. He knew then that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He stood and carried her to his pallet. He knelt and laid her down, but her arm held tight to his neck. Gently he tugged, but she stirred. Having no desire to wake her, he stretched out beside her, pulling her into his arms.
Her head rested on his chest. His fingers grazed her silken skin.
“Damn,” he muttered. “This feels good.”
Chapter Eight
She stretched her arms above her head before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The thatched roof came into focus and she jerked upright. The previous day’s event came crashing down around her. She dug her hands into her unbound hair, remembering how the day had ended—with her sobbing in Jack’s arms.
“Oh God,” she groaned and fell back on the pallet. Perhaps, God would strike her dead right then and there and save her from the embarrassment of seeing Jack again. She held her breath and closed her eyes.
“You are meant to be a merciful God,” she muttered, her gaze upturned.
She could hear activity outside. With a sigh, she stood, resigned now to her fate.
She whisked the robe off and pulled on Rose’s tunic just as easily. In the light of day, she saw how tattered and stained the fabric was, but the secret to its softness was in the wear it had seen, which pleased her to no end. Digging around in Jack’s trunk, she found a length of rope, which she used to belt her waist. Dressing for the day was usually an ordeal that required two maidservants. It was a wonder to her how quickly it could be done if one left off all the fuss as Jack had put it. Once more, she worked the tangles free with her fingers, then swept her hair off her shoulders. She smiled. Despite her questionable captivity, she had never felt so free.
Childish laughter outside her hut drew her attention. She stepped outside. Rose was there with five little girls.
Rose waved when she saw her. “Good morrow, Lady Redesdale.”
Isabella hastened across the glade. “Good morrow, Rose.”
“Well, ye seem well enough this mornin’,” Rose said, searching Isabella’s face. “My brother behaved himself then?”
Isabella blushed but nodded.
“I knew he would, but I still say he should have let ye bed down with me.”
Wanting to change the subject, Isabella pointed to the basket in Rose’s hand. “Where are you off to?”
“The lassies and I are goin’ to break our fast by the stream. Would ye care to join us?”
“I would love to, but I’m not certain if I should.” Isabella scanned the camp, which appeared empty except for Rose and the girls.
Rose smiled. “The lads went huntin’, but they’ll be back soon. Do not fash yerself. Ye’re safe with me.”
“My role here is somewhat unclear, am I allowed to go with you?”
“Well, ye must eat. Is that not true?”
As if to grant her permission, Isabella’s stomach growled loudly. Rose laughed. “Come on, pet. I’ve fresh bannock and dried meat.”
Rose hooked arms with her, pulling her toward a narrow pass that cut through the trees. “I’d wager, they’re as hungry as ye,” Rose said, laughing as the girls darted ahead in a race.
“Who are they?” Isabella asked
“Orphans,” Rose replied.
Isabella raised a skeptical brow. “Orphans? Living in a camp among thieves?”
Rose smiled. “Things are not always as they seem, love.”
Isabella nodded. That was one truth she had accepted long ago.
When they reached a stream, Rose pulled out two large blankets from her basket. Isabella helped to spread the fabric under the shade of a large oak tree while two older girls unloaded the bread and meat. Isabella guessed they both were near ten. When the food was spread about, one of the older girls took her by the hand.
“Sit,” she said.
Isabella knelt down. Five little faces smiled at her. She smiled back and reached for a
After a while, the heat of her breath warmed his chest at regular intervals. He knew then that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He stood and carried her to his pallet. He knelt and laid her down, but her arm held tight to his neck. Gently he tugged, but she stirred. Having no desire to wake her, he stretched out beside her, pulling her into his arms.
Her head rested on his chest. His fingers grazed her silken skin.
“Damn,” he muttered. “This feels good.”
Chapter Eight
She stretched her arms above her head before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The thatched roof came into focus and she jerked upright. The previous day’s event came crashing down around her. She dug her hands into her unbound hair, remembering how the day had ended—with her sobbing in Jack’s arms.
“Oh God,” she groaned and fell back on the pallet. Perhaps, God would strike her dead right then and there and save her from the embarrassment of seeing Jack again. She held her breath and closed her eyes.
“You are meant to be a merciful God,” she muttered, her gaze upturned.
She could hear activity outside. With a sigh, she stood, resigned now to her fate.
She whisked the robe off and pulled on Rose’s tunic just as easily. In the light of day, she saw how tattered and stained the fabric was, but the secret to its softness was in the wear it had seen, which pleased her to no end. Digging around in Jack’s trunk, she found a length of rope, which she used to belt her waist. Dressing for the day was usually an ordeal that required two maidservants. It was a wonder to her how quickly it could be done if one left off all the fuss as Jack had put it. Once more, she worked the tangles free with her fingers, then swept her hair off her shoulders. She smiled. Despite her questionable captivity, she had never felt so free.
Childish laughter outside her hut drew her attention. She stepped outside. Rose was there with five little girls.
Rose waved when she saw her. “Good morrow, Lady Redesdale.”
Isabella hastened across the glade. “Good morrow, Rose.”
“Well, ye seem well enough this mornin’,” Rose said, searching Isabella’s face. “My brother behaved himself then?”
Isabella blushed but nodded.
“I knew he would, but I still say he should have let ye bed down with me.”
Wanting to change the subject, Isabella pointed to the basket in Rose’s hand. “Where are you off to?”
“The lassies and I are goin’ to break our fast by the stream. Would ye care to join us?”
“I would love to, but I’m not certain if I should.” Isabella scanned the camp, which appeared empty except for Rose and the girls.
Rose smiled. “The lads went huntin’, but they’ll be back soon. Do not fash yerself. Ye’re safe with me.”
“My role here is somewhat unclear, am I allowed to go with you?”
“Well, ye must eat. Is that not true?”
As if to grant her permission, Isabella’s stomach growled loudly. Rose laughed. “Come on, pet. I’ve fresh bannock and dried meat.”
Rose hooked arms with her, pulling her toward a narrow pass that cut through the trees. “I’d wager, they’re as hungry as ye,” Rose said, laughing as the girls darted ahead in a race.
“Who are they?” Isabella asked
“Orphans,” Rose replied.
Isabella raised a skeptical brow. “Orphans? Living in a camp among thieves?”
Rose smiled. “Things are not always as they seem, love.”
Isabella nodded. That was one truth she had accepted long ago.
When they reached a stream, Rose pulled out two large blankets from her basket. Isabella helped to spread the fabric under the shade of a large oak tree while two older girls unloaded the bread and meat. Isabella guessed they both were near ten. When the food was spread about, one of the older girls took her by the hand.
“Sit,” she said.
Isabella knelt down. Five little faces smiled at her. She smiled back and reached for a
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