“This is insanity.”
“Nay, this is the Highlands of Scotland. A dangerous place, especially for a woman. But I would live in no other place because it feeds my heart and soul. What say ye, Evie? Will ye share this life with me? Take the Highlands and me for yer own?” With a teasing tip of his head and his best smile, he tugged her closer. “I swear to protect ye and treat ye with the respect ye deserve.” He added a shrug. “I’m nay such a bad man, and if ye marry me, ye willna have to spurn Dugan.”
“Spurn Dugan?” The poor lass looked ready to faint. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“He thought to marry ye, so he would have a mother for his daughter.”
She yanked free of him and backed up several steps. “You men act like getting a wife is no different from buying a horse! Or a wagon. Or whatever else you need to make life easier in this godforsaken place.”
“I need a wife and an heir.” Quinn didn’t move toward her. Nay, she looked ready to run. “Ye need safety. A roof. Food.” He glanced over at her pack. “I ken well enough that ye’ve survived this long into yer banishment, but how much longer do ye really think ye can live here in the wild with no help? And if ye happen upon a settlement, do ye truly believe any other Scots will risk helping a strange Englishwoman dressed like a man? How much longer will yer wee bars of power sustain ye, Evie? Can ye hunt? Fish? Build a shelter? I offer ye all of that and more.” He lifted his chin, daring her to challenge him. “Is that such a terrible thing, lass?”
With a forlorn mix of fear and hopelessness draining the color from her cheeks, she stared at her pack. Hugging herself. Not even blinking.
Quinn smelled victory. She was so close to agreeing. “Answer me, Evie. I think ye will find I’m nay such a terrible man. Is the protection I offer ye so verra awful?”
“No,” she finally said, so softly he almost missed it. “I suppose it’s not awful at all when you consider everything.”
“So, ye will be my wife?”
Head bowed, she rubbed her eyes. “I will consider it,” she said with such weariness it filled him with guilt for pushing her. She looked up at him but didn’t bother to smile. “This has been a trying day, you understand. Epic proportions, actually. I need time to adjust.” After a hard swallow, she continued, “Just allow me to think about it. Please.”
Quinn learned long ago to never leave a timeline for a decision open-ended. “Will ye give me yer answer before we reach the keep tomorrow?”
As she nodded, she closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “Yes. When I see your keep on the horizon, I will give you an answer.”
“Fair enough.” He risked easing closer and held out both hands. “Come, lass. Rest yerself while I turn the meat. If we let Dugan’s supper burn, he’ll go to greetin’ like a spoiled bairn.”
She allowed him to seat her on the pallet where she hugged her knees and stared into the fire. Just as she did right after she failed to cross behind the waterfall.
With one eye on her, he turned the spits until the blackened part of the meat was well away from the coals. He fanned the mouthwatering aroma toward her. “I know Dugan can be as annoying as a midge, but ye will never go hungry around him. Our supper smells fine, aye?”
“It smells bloody awful,” she mumbled.
“Awful?” He couldn’t believe she didn’t relish the hearty smokiness and the rich smell of fat sizzling. “Ye dinna like hares or ptarmigans?”
With a pained expression, she twitched with a pitiful shrug. “I never have before, but I suppose there are a lot of things I better learn to like if I intend to survive here.”
Chapter Six
She had neverridden a horse before, and the longer they rode, the more she wondered about the ability to walk afterward.
“Relax, Evie,” Quinn said as he adjusted her seating by nudging her back against him for a third time.
“I never relax.” And she didn’t. Or never had before, and considering her current situation, doubted she ever would again.
“Yer set for a trying ride then.” The slightest flexing of his muscular thighs made the horse trot faster. The uncomfortable bouncing got worse with the speedier gait, but she didn’t blame the animal. Those hard thighs rubbing against her made everything faster. Her heart rate. Breathing. Thoughts. Everything.
Her unyielding sense of logic scolded her. The last thing she needed right now was that sort of distraction. Her starving libido needed to stay out of this. Determined to get her mind on something constructive, she studied her surroundings but came up empty. Clusters of trees, rough terrain, then open meadows green as emeralds. Gorgeous countryside, but not intriguing enough to pull her awareness from the strong protective embrace of Quinn’s powerful arms and the warmth of his rock-hard chest against her back.
Riding horses. That’s what she would think about. What did she know about riding horses? Very little. Somewhere, she didn’t remember where, she had heard or read that riders and their horses learned each other’s body signals. She’d never thought about it ’til now. Hadn’t needed to. She either took the Tube, hailed a cab, or rented a car. “What are those reins for if you control him with your legs?”
“Lets him know when to turn or halt, but ole Fenn’s a canny lad. I dinna use the reins verra much at all with him.” He hugged her back against him again. “If ye wouldna keep edging up onto the rise of the saddle, ye wouldna be so uncomfortable.” His low chuckling tickled up her spine. “Ye’d think ye were a wee bird trying to find a perch.”
“I’ll try to stop scooting up.” It was his fault. His closeness disturbed her in a pleasant way she preferred to avoid. His heat, the play of his muscles rippling against her, all of it nagged her to go on and give in. Admit she had no other choice but to accept his offer of marriage and learn to live with it. Enjoy it. Adapt to the role…somehow.
Her head had cleared some since yesterday. Not much. But some. With some difficulty, she had removed her emotions from the equation and forced herself to thinkforwardrather than bemoan the past. She could do nothing about what had already happened. All she could do was handle the reality of now. Adapt, improvise, and overcome. One of her American marine patients had shared that motto with her. She clung to it now, claiming it as her own mantra.
“What happens if I refuse your offer?” she blurted, wondering why she hadn’t asked that yesterday.
