Page 28

But it had been there, and he smiled at the implications.

“At least one of us is happy,” she said, though her tone was more playful than her words.

“Chief.” The same man who’d pulled Gillian from the river handed him both the saddlebag and the tartan.

“Thank you, Malcolm,” he said, taking both. “We’ll be along in a moment.”

Dismissed, the men went back in the same direction from which they’d come. Alone once more, Graeme looked at his drenched wife.

“Here.” Though the sun warmed them both, the river water had been cold enough to make Gillian shiver. He wrapped the wool cloth around her and put her bag on the ground. Opening it, he pulled out a surcoat and kirtle.

“You’ll need to change,” he said, handing them to her.

Gillian took the clothing.

“But you’re wet too,” she protested.

“I noticed,” he said.

She didn’t move.

“Do you need assistance?”

Her riding gown, ruined, stuck to her body in places Graeme couldn’t help but notice. And why should he not? This Englishwoman, a stranger, was now his wife. But she was also a virgin, he reminded himself. He would need to be gentle with her. Patient.

“I do not.” She began to turn away but stopped. “Thank you. For saving me.”

He bowed. “You’re most welcome, my queen.”

Finally, a smile.

When she disappeared into the bushes this time, he did not turn his head. Though he could only see her shoulders and the bottoms of her calves, it was enough. The moment Gillian removed her gown, his cock reminded him of how sweet she had tasted last night.

Waiting, no longer able to see anything more than shadows, he removed his own tunic and undertunic, squeezing water from them both.

When she finally emerged, dry except for her hair, which she’d rebraided, Graeme had to remember to breathe. Yellow suited her. She was lovely, his wife.

Just as lovely as the other women who’ve spurned you. Maybe even more so.

He would be a fool to forget she had been forced to marry him. This beautiful creature was not here because she wanted him. Or cared for him. She was here because she had no other choice.

“Oh!” When she spotted him, Gillian stopped and stared. This was certainly not the shy maid who’d allowed him to place a crown of flowers atop her head. This was the woman who’d kissed him back with such fervor they’d had no choice but to wed.

“I trust all is well?” He watched her eyes as they widened, her lips as they parted.

So his wee wife desired him, did she?

Well, that made two of them. He supposed there were worse ways to start a marriage.

He reached her in a few short strides. “You’ve not seen a man like this before?”

She swallowed and nodded. “I have . . . on the lists. But . . .”

When her hand moved toward his chest and then dropped back down, he took the opportunity and seized it, placing her open palm on his bare chest. She didn’t move her hand, but it mattered not. The innocent touch sent his blood flowing in every direction. When one of his men shouted for him, Graeme silently cursed.

He removed her hand, twined his fingers through hers as if they’d done it a thousand times before, and led his wife through the trees, back to the horses.

He hadn’t even realized they walked hand in hand until Malcolm glanced down, ever so briefly, at their joining. Immediately releasing her, he stuffed their wet clothing into his own saddlebag and grabbed a linen shirt.