He rolled his eyes; then he collected up what was left of the food he had unpacked and returned it to the saddle pack. It was going to be a hard battle to get her to accept what he was telling her. He would be deeply insulted by her refusal to accept his word except he knew he forfeited some of her trust by kidnapping her. Until she believed what he said about Edmund, Anabel, and Fergus, she could not accept that he had good reason for such trickery.
“Do ye swear on your honor that ye willnae be trying to run away if I dinnae tie ye tonight?”
“I swear. I told ye, whate’er else I might think of your actions and what ye tell me, I dinnae think ye deserve to die for it all. If naught else, ye are just doing what my uncle asked ye to. And, mayhap, ye truly believe ye are saving my life. I will stay and travel with ye to Glascreag without any further protest.”
Artan nodded and watched her walk away until she disappeared into the shadows. He was going to have to start wooing her if he had any hope of her being receptive to the idea of marrying him by the time they reached Glascreag. Although he really did not want to use the passion they shared against her, he would. As far as he could see, it was the quickest, if not the only, way he could rid her of the anger and mistrust she now felt for him. Worse, he could not tell her about Angus’s offer until he did and he did not have all that much time to find the right moment to tell her.
He winced. There was probably no good time to tell her such a thing. She would undoubtedly see him as little better than Sir Fergus, marrying her for what he could gain. It stung his pride to even think of being compared with that swine, but he could understand why she might think it. The only advantage he had beside the passion they shared was that she felt safe with him. Despite everything he had done, she obviously trusted him not to hurt her.
What he really needed to do was get her bound to him as quickly as possible, he decided as he made up a bed for them on the soft grass. The moment Cecily accepted the fact that she could not marry Sir Fergus, Artan knew he had to try to get her to marry him, and he had better have some good reasons to make her. At any point along their route to Glascreag he could handfast with her. Once they reached Glascreag and settled the problem of Sir Fergus they could have the marriage sanctioned by a priest. He felt confident that Cecily would never walk away from such a bond, and that would give him all the time he needed to soothe her hurts and her anger.
When he saw her walking back from the trees, he breathed an inner sigh of relief. Although he had accepted her word of honor, he had obviously had a lingering doubt or two. Artan saw her glance at the bed and scowl. Taking the coward’s way out, he strode off into the trees so that he did not have to answer any questions about why he had made up only one bed.
Cecily watched him leave, then glared at the bed. She supposed there was not much choice, if only because they had only two blankets. Despite the fact that it was summer, there could still be a sharp bite to the air at night. The deeper they rode into the Highlands, the more true that would be. Since she did not want to shiver all night and she doubted he would want to either, there really was not much choice.
Slipping beneath the blanket, she waited for him to return. She had never spent the night outside, and she definitely did not want to do it on her own. She would just make it very clear that she no longer sought what she had when she had met him at the burn. A warmth spread through her body, putting the lie to her words, but she ignored it.
She tensed when Artan returned and stood by their rough bed. He removed his weapons and set them within easy reach before he slipped beneath the blanket at her side. Cecily tensed when he curled his arm around her waist and pulled her close, her back tucked up snugly against his front.
“Now, lass, there is nay need to go so stiff,” he murmured. “I willnae be doing anything save for sleeping.”
“Ye had better not.” She frowned, certain he was nuzzling her hair.
“A shame, for I thought ye rather liked what I did.”
“I liked it until I realized it was all a trick to make me easier to kidnap.”
“Ach, lass, that isnae how it was at all.” He gently kissed the hollow by her ear. “Did ye think I could lie with my body? Didnae ye feel how I wanted ye?”
“Men’s bodies can feel lust for anything in petticoats. There doesnae have to be any honesty in it.”
Artan tsked and lightly bit the nape of her neck, pleased when she shivered in his arms and did not pull away from him. “Do ye now mistrust every word I say?”
Cecily wondered how he could make her feel guilty, but he did. She did not really believe she was being too harsh. If some woman had done the same thing to him, Cecily felt sure he would be out for someone’s blood. She did not know why he should think she should be more forgiving of betrayal than he would be.
“Nay every word, but dinnae think that means ye can try to seduce me with false promises and flatteries.”
“Now why would ye think anything I said or did that night whilst we were in each others arms was a lie?”
“Because ye needed me there and ye needed me senseless so that ye could easily kidnap me.”
He sighed and slowly rubbed his hand over her belly. “I hadnae intended to do what we did. I had thought to just kiss ye and hope ye didnae notice that I was binding your wrists. Ah, but then we started kissing, and I forgot about what I was supposed to do.” He could sense her doubt in the hint of tension in her body. “Sile mine, do ye really think any mon who is but using your passion to his advantage would stop ere he took your maidenhead?”
There was that to consider, she mused as she hunched her shoulders so that he could not make her senseless with his hot, nibbling kisses on her neck. Cecily did not think any man could pretend to be as aroused as she had thought he was, yet he had not completed the act. He had known she was willing, the very fact that she had met with him had told him that, but he had not taken what she had so clearly offered. Then again, she thought she would have preferred him to knock her over the head than do what he had done.
“I have no idea how men think,” she muttered.
“I will tell ye how I think. I think I cannae keep my hands off ye. I think ye taste as sweet as sun-ripe berries. I think I mean to keep ye for my own.”
“Keep me for your own?”
“Aye, my own, my mate, my wife.”
For a moment Cecily was so stunned she could barely breathe. If he had always wanted her for his wife, why had he not mentioned it back at the burn? A part of her wanted to get up and dance and sing, and then say aye. Another part of her wondered what game he was playing now.
“Your wife?”
“Aye, my wife.”
