A man.
A brute of a man.
And he was running directly towards her. He scooped her up in his arms as though she weighed nothing, trying to outrun the wild boar that was now chasing them down.
He swore, a rather uncouth word, Vivien thought, as he set her down on a large rock outcropping.
“Climb up the rock, lass, get as high up as ye can. I cannae protect ye if yer on the ground,” he called over his shoulder, as he drew his sword fully from its scabbard. The boar was facing him, scratching the earth with its paw, grunting and heaving as it drew breath. Vivien didn’t think twice as she found handholds and crawled higher up the rocks, finally coming to a stop a couple of feet above the man’s head.
He had the most glorious dark red hair she had ever seen, tendrils escaping from the bun he had tied it into at the nape of his neck. He was built sturdily, but something about his figure screamed masculinity and raw power, the appeal of him undeniable. If she hadn’t been afraid for both of their lives in that instant, she might have swooned at the sight of him, she thought wryly to herself.
The Highlander weaved his sword around in a figure eight in front of him, apparently trying to frighten the boar off with the movement. He seemed to have no luck as the animal continued to paw at the ground.
Vivien cried out in terror as the boar ran full tilt at the man – its head held low so that its tusks were in perfect range to gouge him. He jumped out of the way, causing the already angry beast to almost run into the rocks behind him, feet below where Vivien crouched. It swung around quickly, charging at him again. He thrust out his sword, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet as he tried to get a cut in from as far away as possible.
It was a futile attempt at hurting the boar. The animal pushed the sword out of the way with its tusks, ramming its head straight into the man’s legs as it ran past, knocking him to the ground.
He landed heavily; a massive gust of breath shocked out of his lungs as he landed. Thankfully, he still had his blade in his hand. Vivien’s heart was pounding in her ears. This man didn’t even know her, and here he was, putting his own life at risk to save hers.
Her own husband wouldn’t have even bothered, that much she knew. He would have welcomed the opportunity to be rid of her.
“Watch out!” she cried, seeing that the boar was turning around for another attack as the man was trying to sit up, “Hurry, it’s coming back.” She pointed in the direction of the boar.
The Highlander’s jaw was set firmly, twitching in the corners it was set so tightly, as he rolled onto his back to attempt at what looked like a fast maneuver at jumping up to Vivien.
Her heart was in her throat, thumping away as though she were facing the boar on the ground. She started praying to any God who would listen, not knowing what else to do. She felt useless and absolutely terrified for the man who was risking his life for her.
“Please, get up quickly,” she tried again, only to be met with the man grunting in effort as the animal ran at him.
He was halfway onto his haunches when the boar took a run past him, gouging him in the right side, causing an instant stain of red along his clean white shirt. The man grunted in pain before finally managing to gain his feet. The boar prepared to charge, and as it did, the man swung his sword down, cutting edge first, straight into the back of the animal’s neck. The boar slowed down, injured beyond repair, as the man finished the job swiftly by sticking his blade through the beast’s throat. It collapsed to the ground, and so did he.
Chapter Four
The boar was dead; Kieran sighed in relief as he collapsed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and pain.
The gash along his side was excruciatingly painful; he could feel he was losing blood with each and every beat of his heart. He groaned as he lay there, trying to catch his breath.
“You’re hurt,” he heard the young woman exclaim, as she quickly clambered her way down the rock face and rushed to his side. She knelt down, her face inches from his. Concern glowed in her emerald eyes as she studied his face.
Kieran’s world stopped dead on its axis.
He stopped breathing; the woman looking down on him, chewing her bottom lip, was breath-taking. It was undeniable. Kieran knew at that moment he had never seen a woman more beautiful than her – and that he never would see another who could compare with her.
Her heart-shaped face was perfectly framed by black, wavy tresses as dark as the raven’s wings, a beautiful contrast to her fair porcelain skin. And those eyes. Those beautiful emerald pools, framed by thick, dark lashes, drew him in, threatening to drown him.
He was quite all right with that.
Kieran was mesmerized. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her as he lay there on his back, her lips inches from his. If he lifted his head just that little bit, he’d be able to take her mouth with his, tasting the sweet nectar he was sure they possessed. She kept gnawing at that voluptuous bottom lip as she searched his face, finally stilling as her eyes met his, unwavering.
Her lips parted slightly as she gasped, the intensity of her gaze never weakening, and it was all Kieran could do at that moment to keep himself from kissing her.
“Here, let me have a look at your wound,” she pulled her gaze from his, seemingly reluctantly, he thought.
“It isnae anything serious, lass,” he inhaled deeply, the scent of rose petals and honeysuckle tickling his nose. She smelt heavenly to him. She was divine in every way. Kieran could feel his loins tightening in desire even as he tried to fight off whatever spell the Sassenach had put on him.
“Oh, I doubt that very much,” she replied, in her prim English accent. Kieran couldn’t decide whether or not it made her more or less desirable to him. He was not a fan of Englishmen – especially not after the previous day’s incident – but she could barely be held accountable for that. There was just something about the way the words tinkled off her tongue, delicate and proper, her voice soft and gently like little bells in the wind, yet she did not seem to look down on him for being nothing more than a common Scotsman.
At least, Kieran hoped she didn’t.
