Page 11 of Taken by the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #2)
“It has been a long time since I last purchased that much fabric in one shopping trip. I usually only make one dress, or mayhap an outfit or two. I rarely get more than three or four skeins or spools of thread.”
Jude grunted as Valerie’s cheerful voice washed over him.
He still wasn’t sure why her encounter with Nathan Cullen had upset her so. He suspected it had something to do with the way the man had claimed she was his future bride, but her strange behavior made him wary of assuming anything too quickly.
She had stepped between him and Laird MacOlley. She hadn’t been angry at him for trying to defend her. It was the opposite, in fact. And she didn’t look at him with the softness of pity in her eyes. She had even teased him about how ‘fierce’ his beard made him look.
Jude frowned and lifted a hand to run it through his beard. The hair was tangled, sliding against his fingers before they caught in the knots and yanked painfully. He grimaced. He hadn’t attended to more than the basics of his grooming in some time, but he hadn’t thought it had been that long.
“Are ye all right?” Valerie’s question caused him to drop his hand quickly.
“Aye.” Jude shifted his weight in the saddle.
His knee ached from the exertion of riding and walking through the market.
Yet, even with the ache, the unpleasant encounter with Nathan, and the stares he’d received in the tavern, the day had been far more interesting and enjoyable than he’d expected.
And certainly a change of pace from the long, dull stretches of time spent holed up in his castle, with nothing but Craig, Moira, and the shadows for company.
The sunshine… since the attack that had crippled him, he’d felt it would be too painful to face, a reminder of those he had lost. But that hadn’t happened, not today. Instead, his attention had been far too focused on Valerie to be drawn into the melancholy he’d feared would consume him.
“What would ye like me to make first? Some new kilts and tartans, or shirts and trews?”
Jude huffed. “Nay preference.”
Valerie scoffed at him. “Ye must have a preference. Do ye usually wear trews, leggings, or kilts when ye’re at home?”
Jude huffed and rolled his shoulders, dismissing the question. In truth, he had never cared what he wore, so long as it was comfortable and clean. Trews or kilts, he had no preference.
“Do ye have a pattern ye like best? I dinnae need one, but it helps me work faster.”
Jude shook his head. It wasn’t the sort of thing he was knowledgeable about. Moira would know and have the appropriate supplies, if there were any.
“I’m thinkin’ of starting with kilts. Though perhaps a larger project, like the curtains or the tapestries, would be better to begin with. They’re larger, but the curtains at least are far easier to make. And I’ll need to find a room to work in—somewhere with lots of light so I can see properly.”
Jude nodded absentmindedly. There were plenty of empty rooms in the castle. He was certain Moira or Craig could help Valerie find one that met her ideal working conditions.
“I was thinking that for the tapes?—”
A loud crack caused Jude to whip around, just before a heavy log came flying out of the wooded area to their left and crashed into the path right in front of Valerie’s horse. The animal reared in fright. Valerie cried out as she was thrown off the saddle.
Jude reacted, well-honed reflexes spurring him into action before he had time to consider as he dove off the horse.
He landed hard, staggered on his bad leg, and used the momentum to push himself forward.
Pain shot up his crippled limb, but he managed to catch Valerie in his arms as the two of them went crashing to the dirt.
Valerie gasped as she landed. She’d expected to hit dirt and cold, hard ground, and was braced for bruises and even broken bones. The last time she’d fallen from a horse, while out with her father, she’d been unable to use her shoulder for a week.
Instead, she landed on something firm but yielding, something warm that wrapped around her with a muffled grunt of pain.
Her face burned hot as she realized that the firm surface was none other than Jude’s chest, and that her elbow was digging into his muscular midsection.
His arms were wrapped around her, pulling her flush against his broad, strong chest in a way that was entirely too reminiscent of an embrace.
She tried to squirm free, but Jude only made a quiet shushing noise and pulled her closer, as if to keep her safe.
For a moment, they both lay there, waiting to see if anything else would fly out of the woods. Valerie tried to concentrate on their surroundings and on catching her breath, but it was difficult when she could feel every flex of Jude’s biceps and shoulders, and the rise and fall of his chest.
The sensation was… not as unpleasant as she’d thought it would be. Rather than feeling trapped, she felt almost safe, and there was a part of her that tingled with pleasure, to be wrapped in the arms of a man who was not treating her like a possession but someone precious, to be kept safe.
Then, Jude released her, his arms dropping to the dirt as he pushed up on his elbows and gave her an indecipherable look. “Morrigan’s breath…”
Valerie scowled and rolled off him, any pleasant consideration gone, then clambered to her feet to stare down at him. “Why are ye huffin’, My Laird? I am nae that heavy! Nae more than any other lass my age!”
Jude grunted again, then sat up and gave her a pointed look. “Mayhap. But ye have elbows that could pierce stone.”
He rubbed his gut for a moment, then rolled into a crouch and pushed himself to his feet.
Valerie bit her lip, her indignation vanishing like smoke on the wind as she saw him stagger on his injured limb. “Are ye hurt?”
“Winded, mayhap. Nae more than that.”
Jude limped forward to catch the reins of the horse, soothing it with a few gentle words and a brush of his hand along the mane. Then, he handed her the reins and stalked forward to look at the log that had caused all the trouble.
It was large and looked heavy, the type one might split into quarters, or even eighths, for firewood. It looked to Valerie like the type of thing that might take two or three, perhaps even four, able-bodied men to lift.
It came flyin’ out of the woods and into the path. But how? And why? It couldnae have happened by accident, could it?
Jude studied the log, then bent and lifted it into his arms with a grunt, the cords of muscle in his neck and shoulders flexing with the movement and rippling visibly under his shirt as he straightened.
His muscular biceps bulged, the muscles of his forearms and the tendons in his hand showing in stark relief as he shifted the weight into a more comfortable position and turned to haul it to the side.
Valerie stared, hard put not to gape like a fool, as he carried the log with ease to the side of the road and tossed it lightly into the verge.
She fancied the thud could be felt through the ground, even where she was standing, and her mouth went dry at how effortless Jude had made the whole thing seem.
He is strong. I kenned he was well-built, but I thought mayhap he was one of those men who lost their strength after sufferin’ a crippling injury. It is clear now that I was mistaken.
I wonder what it would feel like to have such strength holdin’ me, or even…
Valerie flushed and shook her head until her braid whipped about her shoulders, determined to dismiss such thoughts. She couldn’t be thinking such things… and she shouldn’t. Such thoughts were dangerous and led down a path she’d determined long ago not to tread.
My maither told me on her deathbed never to let any man claim my independence or steal my strength. Laird MacFinn may nae intend any such thing, and he may be a better man than Laird MacOlley, but the wisdom of my maither’s command remains.
I refuse to surrender to Jude’s strength, stubbornness, and courtesy any more than I’d surrender to Laird MacOlley’s poisonous tongue.
She took a deep breath and led the horses forward so they could both mount once more. “Thank ye for savin’ me.”
Jude grunted as he heaved himself back into the saddle. “It was necessary. I just hope ye dinnae need savin’ from anythin’ else today. It is hard work, keepin’ ye out of trouble.”
Something tickled the back of Valerie’s throat, bubbling inside her until she could no longer contain it. Her laughter rang through the clearing, surprising her with the sheer force and relief of it. “Och, I… I didnae ken… ye have a sense of humor, My Laird.”
Jude huffed. “And who said I was jestin’?”
Even as he said it, she caught the small, exasperated smile that briefly flashed across his rugged features. It was almost obscured by his beard, but it was there nevertheless.
For some reason, the wry expression made the whole situation seem even more amusing.
Valerie bent over her saddle, giggling as she nudged the horse into a swift walk, following Jude’s.
She had no idea what had happened, or why, but she did know one thing—she hadn’t laughed so hard in a very long time. Years, perhaps.
I dinnae understand who this man really is. He seems so gruff and stern, and yet, in a mere day, he’s brought laughter and peace into my life that I thought I’d never experience again.
I took this job to find a measure of peace and safety. There’s little of either here, but even so… I cannae help but look forward to the next few days. What mood might I catch him in tomorrow? What else will come of this?