The men spoke too quietly for Arran to hear what they said next, and then the carriage tilted to its left side as Magnus climbed up onto the driver’s seat.
Arran looked down at Skye. Her blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and her face had gone as white as the moon during winter.
“The master of the guard!” she mouthed, and he nodded.
Magnus flicked the reins, urging the horse forward. Skye covered her face with her hands, and Arran suspected she was praying. The carriage turned and moved slowly toward the gate.
Almost there…
It was impossible for Arran to sink further into the seat, and he feared he might be seen through the small carriage windows as they passed through the gate.
We’ve come too far to get caught now.
He quickly dropped to the floor and covered Skye with his body. A lap blanket provided cover for them both. He held his breath and hoped it would be enough.
The dim light filtering through the blanket brightened as they left the gates behind. That told him that they’d made it out, but he didn’t dare sit up now. And he didn’twantto sit up. Underneath him, he felt the length of Skye’s body and the soft fullness of her breasts as they pressed against his chest. He inhaled sharply and fought the urge to grind his hips into her.
“Cannae… breathe. Arran… I cannae…” she gasped.
“So sorry,” he whispered. Reluctantly, he leaned up to take some of his weight off her and pulled the blanket off her head. “Better?”
“Aye, much, thank ye,” she replied. She turned her head toward the front of the carriage and asked, “Where are we going? How are we going to get out of here?”
Arran barely heard her words. The closeness of their bodies generated heat. His gaze lingered on her flushed cheeks, and each sway of the carriage pushed them closer. Their bodies moved together, connecting each time the carriage hit a stone or a rut in the rough road.
Skye looked into his eyes, and he leaned down, his lips?—
Nay!
With a force of will he never knew he possessed, he crawled off of Skye and sat in the seat. He reached down and helped her off the floor, and she grimaced as she stretched her stiff limbs and sat in the seat opposite him.
Her expression was dazed, and Arran wondered if that was the result of their encounter on the floor or just the lack of air. He turned to the front of the carriage and banged his fist on the wall.
“Magnus! It’s me.”
Skye stared at him, wide-eyed and surprised, and then her head turned to the front of the carriage when he continued.
“Dinnae be alarmed, but ye have a stowaway here.”
The carriage came to an abrupt halt. It wobbled a bit as Magnus jumped down from the high driver’s seat, and then the side door flew open.
“Well, I dinnae believe me eyes!” he exclaimed.
Skye gaped at him, bewildered. The enforcer, an older man with mostly gray hair streaked with brown, appeared to be about the same age as her mother. He was smiling, his eyes twinkling. He reached out his hand, and Arran grasped his forearm and clapped him on the shoulder.
Skye looked from Magnus to Arran and then back. “Wait. Do ye ken each other?”
“Of course, lass. MacArthurs are me clan.”
“But why did ye answer Blackwell’s summons if Arran is yer Laird?”
“I serve as high enforcer for the Highland Council. I work for all the clans that I can reach within a few days’ ride. It’s me duty to make sure the truces and agreements are upheld, and now and then, I have to stop a battle or two.” Magnus winked at her, gesturing toward Arran. “I’ve kenned this lad all his life. Pulledhim out of many tussles and scrapes, but none as serious as this.”
His face softened. “I met yer maither, too. She was a kind and generous woman. Too good for the likes of Blackwell if ye ask me. Many were happy that ye left and got Helena out with ye, and I’m nae ashamed to say I was one of them.”
Skye nodded. “Thank ye, Magnus.”
“All right, back in the carriage, ye two. We cannae waste time getting back to Castle MacArthur. I willnae relax until ye are back home, Arran.”
