And timid as a kitten.
He’d be scared to touch her, let alone do all the wicked things he wanted to do to the countess.
Margaret would never have the courage to follow her convictions (even if they were naive), to do what she believed to be her duty under threat of treason. She would never have the strength to rally a terrified group of women and children under conditions that would make even hardened soldiers despair.
Lachlan muttered an oath as he pushed through the trees.
As much as he wanted to blame his restlessness on unspent lust, he knew it was more than that. Andthatwas what truly bothered him.
Christ, he couldn’t wait to get back to the Isles. He was an islander; he could be on land for only so long before he started to go crazed. And crazed was the only explanation for why he was even thinking about her. Thinking about any woman outside of the bedchamber was a mistake.
With that in mind, he pushed aside thoughts of anything but the task before him. He circled the camp, checking to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary, before returning to his post in the trees a few dozen yards from where they’d set up camp for the night.
He picked a stem of thyme to chew on, and was settling back against a tree when he heard a sound.
He snapped into battle mode, tossing the stem away. His senses sharpened, every muscle tensed with readiness. His gaze shot toward the loch, in the direction he’d heard the rustle. He peered into the darkness, but not even his unusually keen vision at night could penetrate the thick forest.
He moved forward slowly. Silently. Keeping to the trees, sneaking up on the enemy with the stealth of a predator and with extreme caution. The loch was banked by a steep hillside, rousing memories of the earlier ambush.
As he drew closer, he heard the sound of whispers and frowned. The voices were soft, but talking at all during an attack was foolish. The sounds were also coming from loch level and not the hillside, where an ambush would be more likely.
He caught a glimpse of white in the black shadows ahead of him. Eyes honed, he made out two figures.
Ah, hell. Not an attack at all. It was two of the women. His mouth flattened. One of whom was the countess.
The flare of anger replaced the flare of battle. God’s blood, didn’t they know it was dangerous out here at night?
“I couldn’t wait,” he heard the smaller figure murmur. It was Bruce’s young sister Mary, unless he was mistaken. “I had to go.”
The countess had her hands on her hips as if she didn’t believe her. “You should have woken me. It’s dangerous to wander away from the camp at night alone.”
Her tone made him think of his mother. Something he rarely did.
They started to move back from the edge of the loch when they stopped, alerted by a sound coming from the steep hillside above them.
Lachlan’s stomach dropped. He shouted a warning, but it was too late.
Their presence had startled an animal—probably a deer—and when it jumped away, it caused a small rock slide. Unfortunately, one of the rocks was the size of a pig’s bladder and it pitched over the cliffside right toward Mary Bruce.
The girl didn’t realize the danger.
But the countess did. Without hesitating, she lurched toward the girl and pushed Mary out of the way just as the stone crashed to the ground behind her.
Lachlan moved as fast as he ever had, but he couldn’t catch her in time. She flew forward, stumbling, and hit the ground with a blood-chilling thump.
He was at her side a split-second later. Gently, he lifted her shoulders from the ground to turn her around. “Christ, Bella, are you all right?”
He didn’t recognize his voice. It sounded…thick. Gruff.Concerned.
She blinked up at him, temporarily dazed. “I-I think so.”
Relief rushed through him in a hot wave.
Mary knelt on the other side of her, her eyes as big and round as two pieces of silver. “I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t mean for anything to happen.”
Lachlan’s jaw hardened. He was about to give the lass a severe tongue lashing, but Bella stopped him with a soft press on his arm.
How the hell did she do that?
