His gaze seemed to take in her whole face but settled on her lips.
Abby couldn’t stop her body from leaning toward him if she tried, and she didn’t bother trying. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and blast it all, she wanted to kiss him. Her eyes began to close, but he let her go.
“The horse is lame,” he said.
“Lame?”
“Aye, it means he can’t be ridden anymore.”
Abby frowned. She was sure he wanted to kiss her, and she was even more sure she would have let him. “I know what lame means,” she snapped.
Her bottom lip dropped, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see her pout. Feeling a little silly at her reaction, Abby hurried to the fire Iain had built. She let the warmth soak into her cold skin and relaxed somewhat, but her mind wouldn’t stop reminding her how much she’d wanted him to take her into his arms and kiss her. She also kept wondering why he hadn’t taken the opportunity. Surely if he wanted to kiss her, that would have been the perfect time to do it. Maybe. Was she wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time.
***
Iain tarried with the horse while Abigail warmed herself by the fire. He glanced her way but took a second, longer look when he realized her eyes were shut. She was frowning, and he wondered what she was thinking . . . if she was thinking about how close they had come to kissing . . . again.
He shook his head. He had to control his actions around her all the time. He didn’t know why he’d stopped her from walkingpast him, but just touching her arm had his mind whirling and all logical thought seemed to fly away. He had stepped forward, and without conscious thought, he’d intended to kiss her, but the snap of a branch under his boot pulled him back to reality.
He didn’t know if he was thankful for that or not, but he had to acknowledge it was for the best. She would soon go back to her family, and he, too, would return to his family and responsibilities. He decided then and there, his first responsibility would be to tell Laird MacKinnon, he would not be marrying his daughter. Even if he couldn’t have a future with Abigail, he knew he didn’t want one with Fiona.
Abigail lifted her face to the sun. The sun shining on her bronze hair made Iain’s chest tighten, and when she smiled at the sky, an ache he had never felt before shot through his heart.
He snapped his gaze from her to the horse. He had to find her treasure and return her to her family before he did something he couldn’t undo.
When he thought she’d had enough time to rest, he tapped her on the shoulder. “Time to go.”
She screwed up her nose at him but smiled and got to her feet.
He had no choice but to leave the horse, hoping someone would find it and nurse it back to health.
He decided they would have to make their way through the forest. It would be a harder walk, but safer than the roads. As they trudged up a slight rise, he hoped walking would exhaust him and he would finally be able to get some sleep that night.
He was finding it increasingly harder to stay away from the lass. She was not only beautiful, but she was stronger than she looked. Not too many lasses would have endured what she had since she’d met him, especially ones of high breeding.She never complained. A grin spread over his face. Well, hardly ever, but that was in the beginning, and he understood it was only because her body ached with the abuse it had been subjected to as she rode the horse.
They were three days out of Rum, and a thought crossed Iain’s mind that he could stray off course without the lass’s knowledge. His family and clan had almost certainly given him up for dead by now. They would already be adjusting to a life without their laird.
He glanced at Abigail. He wanted to spend more time with her. He knew she was keeping secrets, and although he wanted nothing more in the world than to have her trust him enough to tell him such confidences, he had no right to demand she share them. After all, not only were they from two different worlds—him, a Highlander, and she a wealthy American—but they would soon part, him to go home and resume his duties as laird of his clan, and her, back to America.
No. He had to keep his distance, and the only way to do that was to get to Rum and send her to her family.
A shooting pain sliced through his heart at the thought of her boarding a coach and leaving him behind.
The crack of a branch snapping pulled him out of his reverie, and he glanced back.
How he hadn’t noticed before that moment, he didn’t know, but Abigail sounded like a herd of horses crashing through the undergrowth.
Iain stopped and whispered when she got close enough. “Ye must try to walk more softly. Look where ye place your feet and don’t stand on dry sticks or branches.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes and Iain thought she was going to argue with him, but she said, “Okay, then, I’ll try.”
Their pace had slowed somewhat, but having askedAbigail to be careful, he couldn’t possibly ask her to now hurry.
As they walked, Iain couldn’t get visions of kissing her from his mind. His logical side knew he had to keep his distance. It was his duty as laird to strengthen his clan, and to that end, he must marry Fiona MacKinnon, but his heart, his body, wanted nothing more than to be with the strange girl clomping through the undergrowth, to hear her laugh.
He glanced back. She seemed to be concentrating on placing her feet. She was trying so hard to be quiet but also to keep up her pace. She didn’t want to slow him down, and he smiled.
He suspected she was used to a lady’s life and that she’d never traveled so hard for so long. But she was a fighter. He saw that in the way she tried to protect the MacDonald women, the way she wouldn’t give up on him when he was feverish, the way she swallowed her fear and pain and rode the horse for as long as she did.
