Chapter Five
Kai wasn’t ina hurry on this journey. Yes, he wanted to successfully recruit the best men he could find, but he also needed to pace himself so he had ample time to woo Miran. Especially after what he’d witnessed as they’d rode out from Sands Airgid. He sensed her scrutiny. And when he’d confirmed it, his whole body was set ablaze with desire. The woman could not keep from staring at him, and in turn, if he could get away with it, he’d feast on her beauty all day and night.
But there were proper behaviors he must respect in this new country he called home now. In Constantinople, women were covered in robes, their faces veiled, meant only to be seen by their family members or husbands. Here, in the glorious Highlands, Kai had the benefit, no, had been given the precious gift of seeing Miran freely. To hear her voice, to caress her cheek, to kiss those plump lips that often twisted into an attractive scowl whenever she saw him. To smell the sweetness of the living gold in her hair.
He checked the horses that had been confined to an area between several trees for the night. Three tents were set up nearby, one for the women, one for the soldiers, and his own. Two guards would keep watch, then a second team would take over. With the shorter daylight hours of winter, they would rise early and ride until the sun set.
A central fire had been built, wool blankets spread out all around it for everyone to sit on and eat in warm comfort. Miran was perched on a stool a few feet away from her maids, gazing into the flames. He rounded the fire and stopped beside her.
“Are you enjoying the stew?”
She considered him for a long moment. “Tis good. Have ye eaten yet, Captain?”
“Nay,” he said. “I have just finished inspecting the horses and tents.”
“And has everything met with yer approval?”
Did he detect a glimmer of humor in her eyes? A slight waver in her voice? “Aye, Lady Miran, I’d say everything exceeds my expectations from where I stand.”
Miran shook her head as she took another spoonful of stew.
Aching tension built within him as he watched her swallow delicately. What he’d give…he’d sacrifice anything to taste her again.
“Exceeding yer expectations is a difficult thing to do, Captain. Believe me, I know all too well what it feels like to disappoint ye.”
“A temporary thing,” he assured her. “More likely a misunderstanding, Miran.”
She clicked her tongue in disbelief, set her empty bowl aside on the ground, and gave him a sideways look. “I believe ye accused me of loose morals.”
“Nay. You are wrong.” Devastatingly wrong. Rarely, he mixed up words in Gaelic, not an easy language to learn. In fact, of the six tongues he spoke fluently, as his birthplace sat at the crossroads of many civilizations and trade routes, his father had demanded he study multiple languages, he favored Gaelic. He loved the Highlands more than any place he’d ever visited. And he favored Miran MacKay over any woman he’d ever set eyes on. And if she only knew how many women he’d seen, met, and bedded…
“Ye called me shameless.”
Kai rubbed his hand over his face and hair. The lady made a fair point. “What I intended to say was bold. You often act too bold for a woman.”
“Bold?” She took an innocent tone. “My father was a Highland warrior, my mother related to the English queen…”
“Wait,” he said. “I thought Laird Jamie’s mother was a cousin to the queen?”
“Aye. Our father’s married half-sisters.”
Kai nodded in understanding. “So, because your mother had noble blood flowing in her veins, you blame her for your rebellious nature?”
“I doona blame her for anything! I praise her. Humbly thanking her every night as I pray for gifting me with a strong mind and heart.”
One of the guards brought Kai a bowl of stew and a wineskin. He eyed the empty space beside Miran, momentarily hoping she’d invite him to sit. But he thought better of it. Best to keep some distance between them for now. Instead, he chose a nearby, snow-covered boulder and wiped the wet away with his gloved hand before he sat down.
“And what about yer lineage, Prince?”
“I am no longer a prince.” He tasted the stew.
She chuckled. “Did ye forget about me? For years I attempted to hide my birthright, pretending to be a servant. I dressed and acted the part perfectly. And people who visited our castle often mistook me for a common lass. Twas easier that way.”
“Easier than what?”
Her eyes widened. “Accepting the loss of my parents.”
“For that I am truly sorry, Miran.” And he was. Pain darkened her features then, the kind of pain that never goes away. It got buried deeper, but it definitely didn’t fade, not with time or even immeasurable happiness.
