“Such a valiant defense of Sir Gillard’s refuse,” murmured Sir Niall.
Suddenly, behind Sir Niall and Ranald, Jennet saw Hacon approach. He drew his sword even as he stepped up to the pair. The look on Hacon’s face was one of hard, cold fury. Jennet feared there would be bloodshed this time, but there was no way she could stop it.
“First ye beg me to deprive you of your hand, Niall. Now ye offer me your eyes.” Hacon pointed his sword at Niall.
The man paled as he turned to face Hacon. “I but came to fetch some water.”
“In what?” Hacon looked the man over. “Ye carry naught that could hold it.”
“Nay?” Niall backed away from Hacon, then began to edge around the man. “I had best return to camp for a vessel then.”
“Ye had best cease to plague me, Niall. One day my anger may win out o’er my mercy.” He watched the man hurry away, then turned to Jennet. “Ye are clean enough now.”
“Aye,” she answered.
The moment Hacon and Ranald turned their backs, Jennet hurried out of the water, Elizabeth quickly following her. With the soft rags she had brought she tried to sop up the water from her chemise and hair. Hacon stepped over to her and took the rag from her hands. She gasped and hastily looked around. Ranald, Murdoc, and Elizabeth had already left. For the first time in several days she and Hacon were alone.
“Elizabeth dresses quickly,” she murmured.
“She had no need to dry her clothes first. Nor was she concerned about her wet hair.” He gently rubbed her hair dry, then, after a moment of silence, said, “He wants you.”
“Who does? Sir Niall?”
“Aye, Niall. He wants you—badly. The mon fair stinks of lust for you.”
“Such foolishness.” She gave a soft cry of surprise when Hacon grasped her arms and turned her to face him.
“Do ye doubt my desire? My hunger for you?” He slowly smoothed his hands up and down her bare arms.
“Nay. I have had proof of that.”
“Then why do you think it foolishness that another mon may feel that same hunger? Niall feels it. I can see it in the way he watches you, in the way he tries to catch you when I am not near at hand—as he did this time. Aye, Niall hungers for you.”
“He but tries to goad you,” she protested, not sure she liked the idea of some other man lusting after her.
“Aye, but mayhaps ’tis only the reason why he makes no secret of his lust. He acts upon it because he doesnae like me, but his wanting you is real enough.”
“Doesnae like you? Dinnae say ye have another mon set upon killing you.” Even as she spoke the fear aloud she doubted it, for she had seen none of the lethal hatred in Niall that she did in Balreaves.
“Nay, he would ne’er go so far as to murder me. He doesnae ache for my blood upon his hands, only to pull my woman into his bed.”
“Yourwoman, am I?” She was pleased by the hint of possessiveness in his tone yet nettled as well, not wishing to be seen as some mere object.
“Aye.” He tugged her into his arms, holding her close as he slowly caressed her back. “Mywoman. Ye dinnae like that?”
“I dinnae wish to be seen as no more than some doe in season that two rutting bucks are squabbling o’er.” It was not easy to maintain her sense of outrage when his touch stirred her passion completely.
“Oh, ye are more than that, my sweet Jennet. Aye, more than that.” He kissed her mouth, then began to cover her face with soft, hot kisses. “Niall kens it. That is why he acts upon his lust for you.” He nibbled the lobe of her right ear before tracing its shape with his tongue. “That is why he wants to put his mark upon you, mayhaps even take you from me.”
It was very hard to keep her mind on the subject. Her interest in Niall’s plans for her was ebbing swiftly as Hacon continued to touch her. She gasped softly with pleasure when he slid his hands beneath the hem of her chemise to caress her rump and the backs of her thighs. “Niall cannae take me without rousing some outcry,” she managed to say. “’Twould be called theft, for I am seen as part of your plunder.”
“Nay, no longer. I havenae treated you as some mere captive; I’ve allowed you the full freedom of my camp. Ye are seen as my woman. If ye went with Sir Niall willingly, ’twould be considered fair. I might weel draw condemnation if I sought to fight Niall o’er the matter.” He began to unlace her chemise.
She placed her hands over his, halting him. “Nay, someone could come.”
“Ranald and Dugald will see that no one breaches our privacy.” He tugged her arms back around his neck and resumed unlacing her chemise. “I saw a chance for us to be alone and have made verra certain we dinnae lose it.”
“Are ye certain ’tis safe for us to be alone, to be away from camp?” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as he tongued the hollow of her throat.
