Cameron felt so encouraged by everything he saw that he even nodded to a trio of comely lasses who waved at him and curtsied, which would have shocked Conall from his horse if he’d seen it.
That thought sobered Cameron quickly enough—for Conall wasn’t riding with him but left behind at the fortress to manage things, which only heightened Cameron’s resolve to reach King Robert as soon as possible.
Not because he didn’t trust Conall, but that he could feel Aislinn’s gaze upon him. Cameron felt suddenly as uncomfortable as early that morning when she had demanded that he face her and speak to him.
His heart hammering. His throat constricted.
His eyes stinging from staring so intently into the fire until he had turned and looked at her, his gaze dropping to her breasts so full and saucy beneath a soaked nightgown that clung to her like a second skin.
At once he’d glanced at Conall, anger ripping through him to think that he had been gazing upon her as well. Yet Conall had been focused upon his porridge—och, Cameron hadn’t liked at all feeling such resentment directed at his brother!
He had pulled off his breacan and tossed it at her almost without thinking, and Aislinn had covered herself, her cheeks flushed with what he imagined was chagrin.
Did she not realize how lovely she was, more so than any woman he had ever seen? Had she not seen the appreciative glances of his men moments ago, Cameron having all he could do not to reprimand them?
She might not wear feminine garb, but her tunic and trousers sewn to fit her lithe form left no doubt that she was a woman—unlike the loose-fitting clothing she’d been found in the day before.
Thankfully she had wrapped herself in binding again—by God, would he be tormented by thoughts of her beautiful breasts springing free the entire journey?
“You surprise me, Laird Campbell.”
Cameron glanced with a start at Aislinn, who had ridden up beside him. Her spirited mount bumped into his steed, making both stallions squeal and shake their heads.
Only his tight grip on the reins kept his horse from rearing, while Aislinn gave a light laugh as if the mishap had amused her.
Yet Cameron wasn’t amused, not at all, and wondered what the men following behind two by two must think of what they had just witnessed. Once again he made himself think of her as an opponent, for she could have cost him his seat—and mayhap his neck!—if he hadn’t been able to control his skittish steed.
“Get back behind me,” he said gruffly, but Aislinn appeared to have no intention of heeding his command, and matched the trotting pace of his stallion.
“From everything Conall told me, I would not have thought you afflicted at all from the smile you gave those young women.”
Smile? Cameron hadn’t smiled at anyone, least of all any women, his hands tightening on the reins even as his throat tightened.
Conall had spoken to her about him? Afflicted? His gut clenching with intuition, he was glad that his brother wasn’t riding with him for he might have cuffed him!
“I nodded at them, is all—now get back behind me.”
“Aye, you speak quite easily to me when you’re angry—but what about when you’re not? I only want to help you, much as you’ve helped me. Why don’t you think of me as a male like yourself and then mayhap you and I can talk—”
“A male?” Cameron roared, startling not only their horses, but the closest ones behind them. “Lady De Burgh, your garb does not make you look any more a man than I could pass for a woman—now will you heed me or shall we stop right here until you do?”
He got no answer, only a small shrug as she glanced at him with what he would swear was pity.
“There’s no shame in your shyness around women, Laird Campbell—and just listen to you! Angry, aye, just as I said, and mayhap even thinking of me as some sort of enemy, which makes sense to me. I hope you can forgive me for taking your sword, but I thought you an enemy, too. Yet we’re not enemies at all, both of us loyal to King Robert. I’m so grateful to you for taking me to him, and I want to make amends, Cameron. Will it trouble you if I call you by your given name?”
In truth, he didn’t know what to say, the words spilling from her in a wild rush. Aislinn only shrugged at his silence and steered her mount closer, and she leaned closer to him, too, as if what she might say was for his ears alone.
“You see? I’m a woman and speaking to you—aye, looking at you—and lightning hasn’t struck you down. The sky hasn’t darkened and the earth hasn’t opened up to swallow you. I’m certain that the more we talk to each other, the less uncomfortable you’ll feel, and I promise I’ll do my best not to snap at you—at least, I’ll try not to. Sometimes my temper gets the better of me and I’ve been known to act without thinking—”
“Like pressing a knife tae my brother’s throat?” Cameron demanded, his anger flaring hot again. “Threatening his life?”
“Aye, well, that surprised me, too, but look what I gained! We’re on our way to King Robert and you’re speaking to me—in anger, I’ll admit, but it’s a start. Finnegan always told me that it takes practice to become good at anything. How else do you think I became so skilled with the sword?”
Cameron bristled, still incredulous that she had bested him and come so close to wounding him—och, and let him not forget the candlestick to his head! He reached up to touch the sore spot, thankfully no deeper than a scratch, and saw Aislinn wince as if the cut had been her own.
“Mayhap you’ll forgive me for that, too—oh!”
Her mount sidestepped so suddenly at a rabbit running across the road that Cameron had to grab her before she tumbled off—Aislinn’s rump now wedged between his thighs even as she gasped in outrage.
