Her attempt to put him in his place only served to harden his resolve. It was almost as if she could see the wall of steel going down around him. A wall that nothing she could say or do would penetrate.
“Wrong,my lady.” She didn’t miss the lilt of mockery in his gravelly voice. “The king put me in charge. It’s my duty to get you to safety, and this time I damned well intend to see it finished. If you want to risk your life to see your daughter, do it on someone else’s watch.”
See it finished. Her heart stalled. It wasn’t just the mission he was talking about. It was her. He wanted to be finished with her. It seemed he’d been trying to do that from the start.
She ignored the foolish pinch in her chest. She was just as eager to be rid of him.
Before she could argue further—the matter apparently decided—he turned and walked away.
Conscious of the eyes upon her, Bella bit back an angry retort. Clutching the scandalous garments in her arms, she stomped off in the direction of the cottage.
But if Lachlan MacRuairi thought this was over, he was dead wrong.
He knew she wouldn’t give up that easily. Less than an hour later, Lachlan was seated on a rock at the edge of the burn, having just finished a meal of dried beef and oatcakes washed down with ale, when he heard her come up behind him. He turned, prepared to do battle, but not prepared for the shock of seeing her dressed as a lad.
Ah hell. He was wrong about her not attracting attention. The soft leather breeches, although loose, still revealed far more of her than the heavy skirts of a lady’s gown. He could see the soft curve of her hips, her long, slim legs, and the hint of her shapely calves. Nor could the loose shirt and padded leather doublet completely hide the generous swell of very feminine breasts. She’d left the cap behind in the cottage, and her blond hair hung damp and loose around her shoulders. Despite the mild day, she had also donned a plaid around her shoulders. She looked dainty, fresh, and undeniably feminine.
She stood facing him with her hands on her hips, a soft flush on her cheeks. When their eyes met, she lifted her chin. “Thank you.” It wasn’t what he expected her to say. She must have noticed his surprise and explained, “For the bath.”
He shrugged. He remembered how good his first dunking had felt after escaping from the hell of that pit prison. He’d scrubbed the stench and muck from his skin until it had been raw. Ever since, he couldn’t stand to be dirty. Hawk, one of the other members of the Highland Guard (who was also his cousin), loved to taunt him about it. MacRuairi didn’t give a shite. He’d rather smell “pretty as a lass” than like a pig.
“The small tub was all we could find.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “I don’t think the former occupant bathed much.”
“It was divine. They let me have a bath whenever I wanted, but Simon wouldn’t let them heat it.”
“Simon?”
Her face shuttered. “My jailor,” she explained hastily. Looking around, she asked, “Where are the rest of the men?”
“Lamont and MacLean have gone to watch the convent. Boyd and Seton will be back soon. They’re scouting the area. This part of the forest is fairly quiet, but there’s always a chance there could be hunters or poachers around.” He gave her a hard look. “Did you eat something?”
“A little,” she said. “You had enough food in there for an army.”
He frowned. “You’re too thin. You need to get your strength back.”
She stiffened. “I know I am much changed, but gorging myself won’t put me back to the way I used to be.”
Damn, she’d taken his concern as a criticism. He stood up, forgetting how small she was until he towered over her. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been there, Bella. I know some of what you are feeling.” He scanned her face. “You’re still breathtakingly beautiful, but I know the changes aren’t always easy to see.”
She looked startled. “You think I’m beautiful?”
Was she daft? He cupped her chin, tilting her face to his. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Her eyes widened, and it took everything he had not to lean down and kiss her. She was standing so close, the soft fragrance of her freshly washed skin and hair rose up to grab him. Entrance him. Make him forget why he was here: to get the job done. Being with her after thinking about her for so long was even harder than he’d thought it would be.
He dropped his hand. “Get some rest,” he said gruffly. “We’ve a long journey ahead.”
“I’m not going,” she said quietly. “I meant what I said. I’m not leaving without seeing my daughter.”
God’s blood, did she always have to be so stubborn? He didn’t want to argue with her. His mouth fell in a hard line. “And I meant what I said. My job is to get you to safety, and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” Seeing her mulish expression, he dragged his fingers through his hair. “Christ, Bella, try to see reason. Be patient. Your daughter is safe as long as the English believe you are in that convent. They don’t know you escaped, but every minute you stay on English soil you put that at risk.”
It put all of them at risk. He was antsy enough as it was. The price on his head made him a fat target—and he had too many enemies. Despite his nonchalance to Bruce, Lachlan couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.
“I’ve been patient for three years. My daughter is not twenty miles from here.Twenty miles,” she repeated. The soft plea in her voice tugged at him mercilessly. “It’s the closest I’ve been to her since I left her at Balvenie. I can’t leave without at least trying to contact her. With Buchan dead, she’s all alone, Lachlan.” Her voice caught. “I just need to make sure she’s all right.”
He didn’t want to hear her fear, her desperation, damn it. He didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to look into her big, imploring blue eyes. He didn’t want to remind himself that the specter of a husband no longer stood between them.
His jaw locked. He couldn’t let himself be swayed. Going off without intelligence, without a plan, was a sure way to end up in another English prison. It was better to wait. Get Bella to safety, and then when the time was right, make plans to find her daughter. “I’m sorry. I can’t. It’s not part of my mission.”
