He looked down at her. The intensity of his gaze penetrated with all the subtlety of a bolt of lightning. She could see the tic pulsing below his jaw. He was restraining himself, but from what?
"Since you wouldn't listen to my warning, I had no other choice but to come and ensure you reach your destination safely."
Safely delivered into the arms of another man. "I'm sure Sir Hugh will appreciate your service."
He tensed, his eyes sparking like wildfire. For a moment she thought he was going to push her up against the tree and kiss her.
But he didn't. Instead he clenched his fists and stared down at her angrily.
It wasn't disappointment she felt, it wasn't, she told herself. But it didn't work.
"Don't push me, Anna."
But she was past warnings. "Don't push you? How could I push you when you don't care? You made yourself quite clear that night in the barracks.Youwere the one who told me to stay away, remember? Not the other way around."
"I remember."
The huskiness in his voice told her that wasn't all he remembered. Her skin started to heat and tighten. The memories crackled between them like a breath of air on embers, flaring, ready to catch fire.
Anna didn't understand why he was doing this. Frustration welled up inside her. "Have you changed your mind?"
At another time Arthur would have admired her challenge. Anna's frankness and openness were part of what made her unique. But not right now. He didn't want to think about changing his mind. It was taking everything he had just to keep his hands off her.
Why couldn't she be shy and retiring? That he could handle.
He knew he was acting like an arse, but two days of being near her, of watching her turn away to avoid his gaze, of her acting like he was nothing more than a hired sword, had stretched his restraint to the breaking point. He couldn't take another evening of watching her flit around the campsite, laughing and smiling with the men. Smiles that were conspicuously absent in his direction.
He liked it on the periphery, damn it. But from his familiar position on the edge of the campsite, away from the camaraderie of the fire, he found himself longing for the warmth of one of those smiles. Some of that laughter. Some of that light.
He'd wanted to force her to acknowledge him. But all he'd done was stir up things that didn't need stirring.
Such as the overwhelming desire to push her up against that tree and ravish her. He could almost feel her arms circling his neck, her leg wrapped around his hip, as he sank into her, slow and deep. Her soft little body stretched against his. All those seductive curves melting against him. The erotic bead of her nipples raking his chest.
Hell.
He shifted to adjust himself. But the swell in his braies was hard and unrelenting.
This shouldn't be so bloody difficult.Focus. Do your job. Stay close enough to watch her, but don't touch. Don't let her get too close.
Too many people were counting on him. He had to keep his eye on what really mattered: seeing Bruce secure on the throne and vanquishing those who would stand against him. Such as John of Lorn. This was his chance to see his enemy pay for what he'd done to his father.
Justice. Revenge. Righting a wrong. Blood for blood. It was what had driven him for as long as he could remember. He'd devoted his life to becoming the greatest warrior he could be, with one goal in mind: destroying Lorn.
Cold purpose had been his companion for fourteen years. The steely resolve to see a mission through to the end, no matter what the cost. Despite the wide differences in personality--from MacSorley's irrepressible good humor, to Seton's hotheadedness, to MacRuairi's surliness--it was the one thing all the members of the Highland Guard had in common. But he'd never struggled so hard to hold on to it.
He took a step back, trying to clear the haze of desire that gripped him. But his body teemed with unspent lust. Lust that he was finding harder and harder to ignore. Walking around with his cock wedged to his stomach wasn't doing much for his temper. His hand barely took the edge off.
When he didn't answer right away, she said, "Well?"
Had he changed his mind? He shook his head. "Nay."
Nothing had changed. She was still the daughter of the man he'd come to destroy. The only thing the future held for them was betrayal. He wouldn't make it worse.
If she was disappointed by his response, she didn't show it. If anything, she'd seemed to expect it. "Then why are you doing this? Why are you acting as if you care who I marry? You don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to want me either, is that it?"
He muttered a curse, dragging his fingers through his hair. "It's not like that."
Actually, it was exactly like that. She'd nailed his problem squarely on the head. He was jealous, damn it. Even if he had no right to be. Even if he'd discouraged her. Even if there was no chance for them. The thought of her marrying another man sent him into fits of youthful jealousy.
