He took a nervous glance over his shoulder; he could not see the young woman any longer.
Could she swim away? Would she?
He had seen that nervousness in her demeanor; had it not been worry over the letter and the dream at all? Perhaps she had been nervous because she was considering her escape.
He almost turned and strode back to the loch immediately but steadied himself. He glanced up at his men, who were muttering to themselves about the state of Aymer, as he pulled the rucksack down from his horse. He shoved the pack at Jacob, who nearly dropped it.
"Pass the bread and cheese around," he said. "I'm goin' tae see if I can rustle up any wild blackberries around. If we're goin' tae have a mornin' meal, may as well make it decent."
The excuse was weak, but it looked as though the men accepted it anyway. Jacob was passing around the remnants of the cheese wheel inside the first pack while Gamelin dug around in the others for the remaining loaves of bread.
Iain began walking urgently back towards the loch; his steps were long and stomping. His hands clenched into nervous fists as he approached the loch, slightly hidden by the height of the hill it lay nestled in.
But there she was. He could see her dark hair in the cool blue water, bobbing in the center of the loch. She was a little too far to truly see well, but it looked as though she wore an expression of tranquility and relaxation. Her white hands shot up out of the water to smooth her hair back and rub at her eyes.
It was then that Iain noticed her pile of clothes at the waterside.
But of course, she had to strip to swim. Heat crept into his cheeks, and he swallowed nervously, ducking out of sight.
At the thought of her nude body caressed by the chilled waters of the loch, he felt a burning desire creep into him. It started somewhere in his chest but was building up into a throbbing need in his loins. He thought of the previous night, of Isla's quiet sounds against him as he pleasured her, and remembered biting down on his lip to stop himself from sucking in a breath.
He could imagine himself running his hands across the curves of her body, feeling every inch of her with his fingertips. Desire was overtaking him; he began to breathe heavily through his mouth, his eyes glazing over with the pleasure of the image in his mind.
"Are ye just goin' tae stand there all mornin'?"
He froze; he had not been so well-hidden as he had thought, it seemed. Isla had swum around the other side of the loch as he had been lost in his daydream and, from that angle, could see him clearly. He wondered shamefully if she had read the lusty expression on his face for what it was.
He approached, already being caught, and made sure to wipe the needy look from his face.
"I was makin' sure ye were no' tryin' tae swim off," he said, trying to sound casual. As she approached the loch's edge, he glanced down at her shed clothing.
When he looked back up at her, she had moved closer to the bank herself and had arched one dark brow up at him.
"Is that what ye were doin'?" she asked. "I suppose that could be true. Ye were worried I would escape, even after everythin' I've done for ye?"
She was close enough now that he could barely make out the shape of her body beneath the water. Her pale limbs could be seen and the slight curve of her breasts, but he dared not glance further.
Isla was too enticing, too alluring. If he allowed himself to surrender to the strange spell that she unknowingly cast over him, he would be lost. Being with her here, so close to her unclothed and enthralling body, felt much the same as the dream. He was calmed by her presence, though he knew deep down that he should not be.
He felt a longing to wade into the water with her, to pull her close to him and feel the water slide off of her naked body as he lay her down on the grassy moors. There came again the stirring in his manhood, and he fought the urge to adjust his breeches.
"Even though we have been intimate," Iain said, "that doesnae take away from the fact that yer true identity has yet tae be proven."
"So if I asked if ye wanted tae join me in the water, ye would say no?"
The question rooted him to where he stood. She was proposing that he join her and his body screamed yes in response. He kept his expression neutral, allowing himself to swallow and clear his throat.
"I cannae say that a dip would be a bad thing," he said cautiously.
His words were offhanded, casual, or that was what they tried to be. He could not dare to hope this was actually happening, that it was not some off-hand extension of the dream that he had not yet experienced.
But yes, she was. She extended one delicate arm out to him, beckoning him.
"Well, then, come," she said. "Dinnae keep me waiting..."
Her voice had taken on a tone that he had not heard before. She did not sound like the scared young woman he had met at first.
In fact, she sounded more and more like the woman from his dreams; she was sultry and enchanting, and she dragged out of him feelings of desperation and desire that he had long since buried. Somehow, in some way, they had returned to him.
