about.
He lifted a brow. "Do you want them to?"
The question took her aback. After all she'd gone through to get here, of course she should want to see it through. But after days of being hunted by her husband's men, she wondered if she was prepared for what was to come.
Realizing that her thoughts were sliding dangerously toward MacRuairi's earlier warnings, she drew herself up and met his gaze. "Of course I do."
It wasn't just her duty, it was the right thing to do. Robert Bruce was not only the best chance Scotland had of being free from English tyranny, he was the one man who just might be able to unite Scotland behind him. She would do her part to help that happen. It was her chance to do something important.
She was worth more than a pair of spread legs to sate a man's lust.
He dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and then helped her down.
She did everything she could not to notice the feel of his hands on her waist. She wished Magnus were here instead. He didn't make her feel so ... jittery.
Magnus looked at her like a friend.
MacRuairi looked at her like he wanted to strip her clothes off and lick every inch of her.
The thought should disgust her. Instead it made her pulse quicken and her skin flare with heat. Whatever this feeling was, it seemed to be growing more persistent and demanding, and she didn't like it.
"Will Magnus know where to find us?" She could hear the slight breathiness in her voice.
A dark look crossed his face at the mention of the other man's name. He released her so suddenly, she wobbled, her legs feeling like jelly after the long ride. "Aye. He'll find us. Be ready to go when he does."
He dismissed her with a curt nod and began to tend to the horses.
She frowned, watching him, wondering what she'd done to spark his anger. For a moment they'd actually been conversing normally.
She removed a few items from the pack tied to her saddle and started to walk down to the edge of the loch.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To wash." When he seemed about to argue, she cut him off. "I'm not going to crown Scotland's next king looking like a beggar woman."
He narrowed that eerie slitted gaze on her. "Be careful. Stay where I can see you."
Bella was glad her back was already to him so he couldn't see her blush. She intended to get good and clean and had no intention of letting him watch.
She quickly tended to her more pressing need, and after a quick glance around, removed her clothing. Gritting her teeth, she jumped into the freezing loch.
She was in and out in no more than two minutes, washing her hair as best she could with the thin sliver of soap MacKay had given her, and then using a cloth to scrub as much of her skin as she could reach.
"Countess!"
She winced; he sounded furious.
"I'm here," she said, frantically rubbing her hair with a fresh cloth and then drying herself as best she could with the now-sopping toweling. "Just give me a minute."
Her body wracking with shivers, she reached for her chemise. But before she could slip it over her head, someone grabbed her from behind.
The fleeting thought that it might be MacRuairi was gone the instant she inhaled. For a brigand, MacRuairi seemed to have an unusual penchant for cleanliness. He always smelled ... nice. Warm and leathery, with a subtle masculine spice. This man smelled like sweat and stale onions.
Dear God, she'd been captured!
Her blood ran cold, and terror jumped inside her, her senses sharpening with awareness.
She was painfully aware of her nakedness, but her first impulse was escape. She tried to kick and scream, but the man had his hand over her mouth and his other arm locked around her waist as he dragged her deeper into the woods.
"Don't make it harder on yourself than it already is, my lady," he warned in a harsh whisper. "The earl is eager to see you." He laughed. "Though I wager he'll be surprised to see so much of you." Bella stilled, hearing something in his voice. She knew it wasn't a mistake when
He lifted a brow. "Do you want them to?"
The question took her aback. After all she'd gone through to get here, of course she should want to see it through. But after days of being hunted by her husband's men, she wondered if she was prepared for what was to come.
Realizing that her thoughts were sliding dangerously toward MacRuairi's earlier warnings, she drew herself up and met his gaze. "Of course I do."
It wasn't just her duty, it was the right thing to do. Robert Bruce was not only the best chance Scotland had of being free from English tyranny, he was the one man who just might be able to unite Scotland behind him. She would do her part to help that happen. It was her chance to do something important.
She was worth more than a pair of spread legs to sate a man's lust.
He dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and then helped her down.
She did everything she could not to notice the feel of his hands on her waist. She wished Magnus were here instead. He didn't make her feel so ... jittery.
Magnus looked at her like a friend.
MacRuairi looked at her like he wanted to strip her clothes off and lick every inch of her.
The thought should disgust her. Instead it made her pulse quicken and her skin flare with heat. Whatever this feeling was, it seemed to be growing more persistent and demanding, and she didn't like it.
"Will Magnus know where to find us?" She could hear the slight breathiness in her voice.
A dark look crossed his face at the mention of the other man's name. He released her so suddenly, she wobbled, her legs feeling like jelly after the long ride. "Aye. He'll find us. Be ready to go when he does."
He dismissed her with a curt nod and began to tend to the horses.
She frowned, watching him, wondering what she'd done to spark his anger. For a moment they'd actually been conversing normally.
She removed a few items from the pack tied to her saddle and started to walk down to the edge of the loch.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To wash." When he seemed about to argue, she cut him off. "I'm not going to crown Scotland's next king looking like a beggar woman."
He narrowed that eerie slitted gaze on her. "Be careful. Stay where I can see you."
Bella was glad her back was already to him so he couldn't see her blush. She intended to get good and clean and had no intention of letting him watch.
She quickly tended to her more pressing need, and after a quick glance around, removed her clothing. Gritting her teeth, she jumped into the freezing loch.
She was in and out in no more than two minutes, washing her hair as best she could with the thin sliver of soap MacKay had given her, and then using a cloth to scrub as much of her skin as she could reach.
"Countess!"
She winced; he sounded furious.
"I'm here," she said, frantically rubbing her hair with a fresh cloth and then drying herself as best she could with the now-sopping toweling. "Just give me a minute."
Her body wracking with shivers, she reached for her chemise. But before she could slip it over her head, someone grabbed her from behind.
The fleeting thought that it might be MacRuairi was gone the instant she inhaled. For a brigand, MacRuairi seemed to have an unusual penchant for cleanliness. He always smelled ... nice. Warm and leathery, with a subtle masculine spice. This man smelled like sweat and stale onions.
Dear God, she'd been captured!
Her blood ran cold, and terror jumped inside her, her senses sharpening with awareness.
She was painfully aware of her nakedness, but her first impulse was escape. She tried to kick and scream, but the man had his hand over her mouth and his other arm locked around her waist as he dragged her deeper into the woods.
"Don't make it harder on yourself than it already is, my lady," he warned in a harsh whisper. "The earl is eager to see you." He laughed. "Though I wager he'll be surprised to see so much of you." Bella stilled, hearing something in his voice. She knew it wasn't a mistake when
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