Page 12 of Jack (Highland Outlaws #1)

I n the beginning, Isabella felt out of place surrounded by the MacVie family beneath a blanket of stars.

But soon enough she relaxed, forgetting about why she was in their presence, and instead enjoyed her time with them.

For so long, she had felt imprisoned within her lonely fortress, and now, despite being an actual captive, she felt freer than she had in years.

It was clear that they loved each other.

Laughter filled the night and her heart.

And in that moment, she remembered what it felt like to have a family.

Listening to Rory recount a particularly funny tale of the first time Ian had been mistaken for a full-grown man when he was naught but one and ten, she bent over with laughter.

But when she straightened, she locked eyes with Jack, whose intense gaze made her breath catch.

Suddenly, she was again very aware of the fact that she was not a MacVie, that she was an English lady, and at the mercy of the black-eyed man whose gaze was unwavering.

The laughter trailed off and an awkward silence hung in the air as everyone else became aware of their unspoken exchange.

“’Tis time,” Jack said.

Her nostrils flared. “Time for what?” she blurted. For a moment, she feared he had lied to her earlier about his intent to cause her no harm.

“For sleep,” he said, standing.

She swallowed hard. “And where exactly will I be sleeping?”

He did not answer straightaway. He held her gaze and at length said, “Where ye’ll be safest...with me.”

Bella sucked in a sharp breath.

Rose jumped to her feet, hands on her hips, and glared at Jack. “She most certainly will not sleep in yer hut. ‘Tis indecent!”

Jack did not flinch. “I’m not concerned about decorum and decency. I’m responsible for everyone’s safety, including Lady Redesdale’s. How do ye intend to keep her from escaping if she had a mind to do so?”

“Please,” Bella began, her heart racing. “I will attempt nothing. You have my word.”

Jack raised a brow at her. “A promise any captive would make. Ye’re obviously not going to tell me if yer intentions were otherwise.” Then he turned back to Rose. “I’ve not made this decision lightly.”

Quinn stood up. “Rose, Jack is right. Our choices are few. We could bind her hands and feet, or, as Alec suggested, have her sleep in the hole.”

Ian lunged to his feet, his eyes flashing with anger. “Quinn, I’ll not hear mention of that again!”

Bella gasped at the sight of Ian’s anger.

In that moment, the youngest MacVie was a chilling sight, with his blue eyes set ablaze.

How Quinn stood his ground, she would never know, but he did, holding out a steadying hand toward Ian as if he were a large, spooked animal.

“I was not suggesting that we should. I was merely trying to demonstrate why having Lady Redesdale sleep in Jack’s hut was the safest and gentlest of choices. ”

“But I cannot sleep alone with a man,” Isabella pleaded, feeling desperate—least of all a man whose kiss she knew to be both hard and tender all at the same time.

Jack cocked his brow at her. “If it’s yer reputation that ye’re fretting over, no one here has ever or will ever be invited to yer king’s court.”

Once again, she pledged not to attempt to leave their camp, but Jack would not be swayed. She looked beseechingly at the others.

“Sorry, lass,” Rory said, standing. Then he winked at her, and once more she was struck by his undeniable appeal. “Yer virtue is safer with Jack than with me.” With his lips curved in a sensual grin, he turned and walked toward one of the huts.

Shifting her gaze, she looked at Ian, who thus far had been her greatest champion. “Ye needn’t fash yerself,” the youngest brother assured her, his countenance, once again, kind and gentle. “Jack is a man of honor.”

Brows drawn, she turned to Rose, who could do naught but scowl at Jack before storming off in a huff.

Now only she, Jack, and Quinn remained. Isabella stared hard at Quinn, who shifted in his seat for a moment before he stood and bowed. “I bid ye goodnight, Lady Redesdale.”

It took all her restraint not to call after him and beg him not to leave her alone with Jack.

“’Tis time, Princess.”

She met his gaze. “Time for what?”

A smile tugged at one side of his lips. “I believe we’ve already established that ‘tis time for sleep.”

She arched a brow at him. “Sleep?”

“Ladies do sleep, do they not?” A glint of amusement shone in his eyes.

She lifted her chin and stood. “I see no humor in our situation.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she strode past him in possession of her dignity—or so she had thought.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she froze mid-step.

He stared after her with that same quiet expression on his face that he had worn earlier.

Her chest tightened. Confused, she whirled back around and raced the rest of the way to his hut.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She threw open the door, then slammed it behind her to vent her frustration, but the flimsy door was incapable of demonstrating her true state of upheaval.

Her gaze scanned the tiny room. Panic made her heart race even harder. At any moment, he would enter. She considered the small chest and lightweight table and chairs, but she knew that none of the sparse furnishings offered sufficient weight to keep Jack out.

The door opened.

Her breath hitched as he stepped into the small space, which seemed to shrink around her with the addition of his massive frame. She instinctively backed away, pressing against the thatched wall.

She was alone with a man who was both savior and captor. But at that moment, she certainly felt more captive than saved.

He stepped toward her, his gaze unreadable. Her heart pounded harder. “Ye must be tired,” he said softly. His gaze held hers.

She stared up at him, unable to speak. Her mind was suddenly fixated on the first time they had been alone in his hut. In that moment, her gaze traveled to his full lips, lips that had been pressed against her own.

She tried desperately to steer her thoughts toward the many reasons she should dislike the man standing in front of her, but as they continued to lock eyes, she felt as if she were drowning in a black sea.

As if sensing her thoughts, Jack stepped closer.

Her breath caught in her throat.

His eyes bore into hers.

She fought to swallow. He planted his hands on the wall on either side of her head. She opened her mouth to protest, but her objections remained lodged in her throat along with her thundering heart.

Surrounding her, he enclosed her in a cage of muscle and his all too familiar woody scent. He was so big and strong and smelled so good. He was unlike any man she had ever met. The intensity of his ebony gaze burned through her like wildfire.

He drew closer still.

She could hardly draw breath.

Slowly, he bent his head, lowering his lips until they were a breath away from hers.

A sweet ache coiled in her stomach. She closed her eyes and waited, wanting to feel the sensual pressure of his lips, but it never came.

A cool breeze caressed her cheek and forced open her eyes the instant before the door shut behind him.

Her knees gave way, and she slid to the ground, resting her head against the thatched wall. “Jack,” she whispered.

Her mind was spinning out of control as the day’s events combined with the tumult of new sensations coursing through her body.

She gripped her stomach, feeling as though she would be sick again, but it was not bile that pushed for a way out.

A wave of tears stung her eyes, and she collapsed beneath the weight of the day.

WITH HANDS IN TIGHT fists, Jack plowed his way through the grove.

His heart thundered in his chest, igniting a searing pain that pulsed at his temples.

He stormed around a copes of birch trees and passed into a small glen, heading straight for a clear, deep brook.

Jerking his tunic over his head, he dove into the icy water and let the chill ease his body.

God above, he wanted her.

“Why?” he growled out loud.

He had spent less than a full day in her company, and here he was fixating on her, burning for her.

For pity’s sake, he had nearly taken her against the wall.

And what drove him near to madness was that he was certain a part of her had welcomed his touch. He closed his eyes to better remember her parting lips and quick breaths as she held still, waiting for his kiss.

He should have taken her. What sort of lady would not fight the advances of a commoner, and a rebel thief at that?

Perhaps she was free with her kisses and made light of her virtue with the English lords in her treacherous King’s court.

Were he a less honorable man, he might have claimed her for himself.

Then, he would not now be paying for his self-control.

But he was not that sort of man.

With a curse, he dove once more beneath the surface of the pool.

Water sluiced off his shoulders as he strode from the brook.

His body remained hard and hungry for her, despite his cold bath.

Pausing only to grab his tunic, he headed straight back through the woods, no more relieved than before he’d set out.

When his hut came into view, he stopped and forced his lungs to fill.

Then he blew out before taking another deep breath.

An English lady had no business occupying his thoughts. He had to remain focused on what mattered most—the many people dependent on him for their very survival. His attraction to Lady Redesdale was a physical and emotional betrayal on his part. How dare he dally with the enemy?

Striding past the pit fire, which had smoldered down to a pile of ash, he walked right up to his door and stopped.

Lips pressed tightly, he considered his choices.

He never had any intention of forcing the lady to sleep with him in his hut.

He had always planned to sleep just outside in front of the door, thus barring her way from escape.

But if he were honest, sleeping with her was exactly what he wanted.

He reached for the door, but his fingers froze in midair.

His already erect length grew harder just thinking about her stretched out beside him.

He dried off with his tunic, then stretched out on the ground, lacing his fingers behind his head, and stared up at the stars, trying to think of something other than silky brown hair and pale green eyes.

Scowling, he lifted his head off the ground.

Had he heard something?

He held his breath. A quiet, muffled noise reached his ears. It was she. He pressed his ear to the door. Mayhap, she slept but not soundly, and it was her unrest he heard.

A soft hiccup emanated from within.

Or perhaps she had the makings of a slight illness, and it was her blocked nose that he heard. Then an unmistakable whimper reached his ears, and he could no longer deny that she was crying.

“For pity’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head. He stood up and eased the door open. There, in the middle of his pallet, she sat with her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her hands, muffling the sound.

“Princess?” he said quietly.

Her hands jerked away from her face, and she turned wide, tearful, and exquisitely beautiful, pale green eyes on him.

His heart broke.

He had never been able to withstand a woman’s tears. The hard front he had been struggling to hold in place since they had first met melted. At once, she was no longer Lady Redesdale. She was just Bella, a woman who had been through a great deal that day.

“Don’t cry, Bella. Please don’t cry.”

Hugging her arms around her legs, she buried her face, hiding her tears.

“Go away,” she sobbed.

He crossed to her and wrapped his arms around her. “Hush, lass,” he crooned. Gently, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Her wet cheek pressed against his bare chest. He sat down on the chair and gently rocked her. Her soft body yielded to his.

“Never ye mind. Ye just cry it out, lass. Ye’ve earned yer tears.”

Whether it was his urging or just the weight of the day, she did just that.

Her arms came around his neck. He breathed in the lavender scent of her hair and held her tighter.

Slowly, he stroked her back and whispered softly in her ear.

“There, there, love. ‘Twill be alright. Just let it out. Cry all ye want.”

Her body trembled in his arms. Tears dripped down his chest. She buried closer to him, and he pressed a kiss to her brow.

He let her cry until her tears ran dry. Then, even with her sorrow spent, she did not move, but kept her arms around his neck.

He savored their intimacy, and he continued to rock her, imagining the sea cradled them both.

After a while, the heat of her breath warmed his chest at regular intervals.

He knew then that she had fallen asleep in his arms. Coming onto his knees, he laid her down.

Gently, he tugged at her arm, still wrapped around his neck, but she stirred.

Having no desire to wake her, he stretched out beside her, pulling her into his arms.

Her head rested on his chest. His fingers grazed her silken skin. She nestled close.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “This feels good.”