Her nose wrinkled and she cast a surreptitious glance at the man in the corner. Not all scars bothered her, it seemed. Some were rather ... attractive.
Hehad scars. One along his jaw that stood out when he clenched his teeth--which around her he seemed to do often--and a small nick on his right cheek. His hands were littered with them. He probably had some on his arms. And on his chest.
Her body flooded with heat as an image of his broad, powerfully muscled chest sprang to mind. Naked.
Nails to the cross, what was wrong with her? Fantasies--were she to engage in any--were utterly inappropriate in the middle of the day while trying to read to an injured man.
She might not be able to put a stop to the war, but she would do what she could to help, no matter how small. Malcolm's wife, Seonaid, said he drank lessuisge-beathaafter she read to him, so Anna continued to bring her prized copy of Thomas of Britain'sTristan. The old warrior loved the doomed tale of love between the knight and the Irish princess almost as much as she did.
She ignored the man brooding near the door, but she could feel him watching her.
It wasn't until they'd left that he said, "You know how to read."
She shrugged, knowing it wasn't common in the Highlands. "My father thought it important that all of his children be educated." She met his gaze, challenging him to say something. "Even the girls."
He gave her a long look--frowning again--but didn't comment.
The next house she visited belonged to the village healer. Afraig was getting old and didn't travel around the countryside as easily as before, so whenever she visited, Anna brought a few herbs and plants that she'd collected in the forest near Dunstaffnage.
Anna saved the most important stop for last. Her recently widowed friend Beth had been left with five children, including baby Catrine--Cate--born not three months ago, six months after the poor babe's father had been killed in an ambush by Bruce's men near Inverlochy Castle, right before it fell to the rebels.
The death of her husband had only hardened Beth's resolve. Like Anna, she would do what she could to help defeat King Hood and put an end to the war.
Anna hoped Sir Arthur would get bored with their chatter and find something else to do, but he seemed content to sit by the door with Robby and wait. Watching her with that too-intense, too-perceptive, golden-eyed gaze of his. It was almost as if he knew she was up to something.
She could see the older children kicking a ball around outside through the two small openings in the stone. The wooden shutters had been pulled back to allow the fresh summer air to breeze through the long single-room building. Suddenly, the play stopped, and she had her opportunity.
She looked at Sir Arthur over the head of the sleeping baby nestled in her arms. "It looks like the children's ball is stuck on the roof of the barn again. Would you mind--"
"I'll get it," Robby said, jumping up as if he'd been waiting for any excuse to leave. She had to bite back a smile at his eagerness. Perhaps she'd gone a little overboard in asking Beth to describe--in detail--Cate's recent digestive problems, including the rainbow of colors that ended up on her cloths.
Right result, wrong man.
"I suppose we should be getting on." She stood up, intending to give the sleeping child back to Beth.
But then she had another idea and had to fight back the smile that rose to her lips. She knew just how to distract him.
"I almost forgot," she said to Beth. "I've brought you some tarts."
"And I have some fresh sugared buns for you as well," Beth said, catching on.
Before he realized what she intended, Anna placed the sleeping baby in Sir Arthur's lap and picked up her basket.
The look on his face was full of such abject horror, it took everything she had not to burst out into laughter. His expression was almost worth the trouble he'd caused her.Almost.
He immediately tried to hand the baby back to her. "I don't know anything--"
"There's nothing to it," Anna said sweetly. "Just keep your arm under her head like that and she'll be fine."
He, on the other hand, looked decidedly ill.
All the jostling had caused the baby to stir, and she started to emit a series of little grunts and cries.
The fierce knight who looked as though he could single-handedly take down an army gazed up at Anna, begging for mercy.
Despite her amusement, there was something oddly arresting about the sight of the tall, muscular warrior cradling the tiny infant in his arms, awkwardly but with a gentleness that made her heart take a funny little skip.
Their eyes met, and something strange passed between them. A primal awareness of the attraction sizzling between them. An acknowledgment of the possibility that between a man and a woman such blessings might come. What would it be like to see him holdingtheirchild?
