Page 15

CHAPTER 15

Any excitement about venturing eastward and seeing more of the country soon evaporated with the tedious hours of solitude, knocked and bumped by unsteady belongings, while the view from the carriage window evaded Anna’s eye. How was she to enjoy the newness of the journey if she couldn’t see any of it?

A thick fog shrouded the landscape, drizzling rain hitting the window to conceal the view even more, while a cold chill slithered in to make her shiver. She had no idea where the servants had stowed her blankets. Jane would have known, but the maid was traveling in the second carriage, which Anna couldn’t see either.

I cannae bear another minute of this.

Firmly, she stretched across the carriage and rapped on the opposite window.

A shadow filled the pane, and as Anna pulled down the sash-style window, she peered out at the sodden figure of Gordon, moving to the rhythm of Manadh’s steady plod.

“We’re nae stoppin’,” Gordon said, before she could utter a word.

“I wasnae askin’ to,” she shot back, noting the way the rain meandered down his face in racing rivulets.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt compelled to brush the water away, needing to clench her hands into fists to resist the desire. His unruly, dark hair had been somewhat tamed by the rain, slicked back off his face, as though someone or something had run their fingers through it after a bath.

She blinked, her voice stolen away by the violent beauty of him. Her fingertips itched to feel those raven-dark waves, to touch the rough stubble that shadowed his jaw and lip, to feel the difference between his scars and his unmarked skin.

What is wrong with ye? She cleared her throat to clear away the thoughts, once again wondering if there was something unnatural about him: an unearthly gift of devilish charm that could seize control of her mind at a moment’s notice.

“What is it, then?” he muttered.

Feeling the cold kiss of the rain on her too-warm skin, an idea came to her. “I want to ride with ye.”

“Pardon?” He eyed her as if she were mad.

“I’m nae made of sugar, M’Laird. I willnae melt.” Anna shrugged. “Besides, I’ll be black and blue by the time we reach Castle Lyall if I stay in here, and I’ve a greater chance of actually seein’ some of the world from out there, instead of bein’ cooped up in here.”

His one eye narrowed. “Ye shouldnae have packed so much.”

“Aye, well, I cannae undo that excess now, can I?” she replied, agitated. “I cannae breathe in here, M’Laird. Let me ride a while with ye. The fresh air will do me good.”

He seemed unconvinced. “If ye complain, I’ll put ye right back in there.”

“Ye willnae hear a word of protest,” she promised, her hopes swelling.

What an adventure, to ride through such wild country on the back of a proud stallion, protected by me potential husband. It was a silly, romantic thought—quite unlike her—but she figured she ought to get some joy out of the journey, even if she had to conjure it from her imagination.

Gordon whistled loudly and the driver slowed to a standstill.

“Is there trouble, M’Laird?” the driver called out into the drizzle.

“Aye. The lass wants to ride,” Gordon replied.

Anna stared at him. Was that a jest?

His face hadn’t changed, nor had the grumbling tone of his voice, yet her throat wanted to release a chuckle. Her instincts felt like he had made a joke, but the uncertainty left her confused.

“In this weather?” The driver sounded equally bewildered.

Anna rolled her eyes. “It’s just a bit of rain, for goodness’ sake. If I wanted to avoid bad weather for the rest of me life, I’d never leave me chambers. This is Scotland , nae… nae… Egypt!”

“Of course, M’Lady,” the driver responded, a note of laughter in his voice. Being a MacTorrach man, he undoubtedly knew that once Anna had a notion, she wouldn’t relinquish it easily.

Shuffling backward, Gordon gestured to the empty space ahead of him in the saddle. “Come on, then.”

Anna frowned. She’d expected him to help her out of the carriage, like a gentleman should, and to assist her in getting up onto the enormous horse, but it seemed she needed to lower her expectations. Gordon wasn’t like other men; she’d known that the moment she met him, and, in many ways, that was why she’d ‘chosen’ him.

I cannae pretend to be surprised now.

After all, no gentleman would have done what he did in the woods. No gentleman would have kissed her with such… unbridled passion or touched her the way he had touched her or inspired such a thrill in her. Not before marriage, anyway.

Then again, he had kept his back turned while she bathed away the filth of the bog. So, perhaps he had a few manners, though, to her chagrin, she’d been somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t tried to steal a peek.

“Are ye ridin’ or nae?” he asked flatly. “Ye’re delayin’ us.”

Muttering under her breath, considering staying in the carriage after all, Anna opened the carriage door. She grimaced as she stepped down, straight into an icy puddle that soaked right through her shoes and stockings, but refused to retreat. Approaching the horse, she reached up to grab the pommel, unsure of how she was meant to pull herself up when Gordon had his foot in the stirrup.

He leaned out of the saddle, both of his hands sliding under her arms. With one swift, effortless pull, he hoisted her up and set her down in front of him, practically in his lap.

She sat sideways, a flutter of anxiety rising through her; she didn’t feel at all steady, as if she might topple backward or forward at any unexpected movement from Manadh.

“Ye might want to sit astride,” Gordon said.

She swallowed thickly. “I was about to, if ye’d give me a second.”

Twisting around, she managed to maneuver her other leg up and over the curved pommel, until she was sitting more securely. The only trouble was, the pommel stopped her from sitting too far forward, and Gordon couldn’t move any further backward to give her a polite amount of space.

Oh…

She concentrated on the inquisitive flick of Manadh’s ears, so as not to dwell too intently on the pressure of Gordon’s bulk behind her, or the brush of his thighs against the backs of hers, or the fact that she was very much positioned against his loins.

Her breath caught as his arms curved around her, one strong hand interwoven with the reins. He rested that hand on the pommel, his other arm encircling Anna’s waist, and with a click of his tongue, they were off.

“M’Laird, I?—”

Any complaint she might have had about him holding her so intimately vanished on her tongue as Manadh moved, the rolling sway of the stallion’s body like being rocked on tempestuous seas; if it weren’t for Gordon’s grip, she was certain she would have fallen off.

“What?” he prompted, when she didn’t finish the sentence.

She took a breath. “Nothin’, M’Laird.”

“Good.” He curved his shoulders a little more and bent his head over hers, as if to block the rain from falling on her. “And stop callin’ me that.”

“Callin’ ye what?”

His grip tightened around her waist. “M’Laird. Dinnae call me that anymore.”

“Why, do ye want a pet name?” she teased to mask her uneven breaths, grateful that the cold rain would see to the heat flooding her cheeks.

With every step the stallion made, she felt Gordon push against her, not on purpose but by circumstance. He couldn’t move away, any more than she could. And the feeling was… not at all what she’d anticipated in her rush to be out of the stuffy carriage.

I’ll be as hot as a poker by the time we get to Castle Lyall. Despite the weather, she wished she had something to fan herself with.

“Me name will do,” Gordon said in a throaty voice that sent a fresh surge of heat through her.

This was a mistake, she realized, but she’d promised not to complain. If she asked to get down now, she risked delaying them further.

Fixing her gaze ahead, trying her best not to concentrate on where her body touched his, she knew she would simply have to endure it… even if it meant arriving at her destination boiled alive by the feverish feeling of being so close to him. Remembering with each press of his loins and nudge of his chest how he’d made her feel in the woods, when he’d pushed her against the tree and stolen her first kiss, and how willingly she had given it.

Is she nae right in the head?

Gordon couldn’t fathom any reason why a well-raised Lady would have any desire to ride through the chilly haze of rain instead of enjoying the sheltered comfort of a carriage. He’d humored her, expecting that she would , in fact, complain and be back in the carriage within minutes, but she hadn’t given in yet.

And the longer she rode with him, the more uncomfortable his ride became.

Every accidental push of her backside against his loins, every shift of her body, creating new friction in new places, every relaxed lean of her back to his chest, every inhalation of the sweet perfume of her, every rise and fall of her ribs against his hand, was pure torment.

Nor would she permit him to seek distraction in silence.

“What is yer castle like?”

“What do ye do for amusement?”

“Do ye have a library?”

“Is it beautiful where ye live?”

“Do ye sail? Do ye swim? Do ye dive for oysters—I hear people do that by the sea?”

“Were ye serious about there bein’ nay brigands in yer part of the world? How did ye manage that? Did ye rid yer lands of them yerself or do ye delegate? How many soldiers do ye have? It’s a lot, aye—I think me braither mentioned ye have a considerable army. When was the last time ye had to fight?”

And on and on in a ceaseless stream of chatter, regardless of his mostly one-word answers. She was anxious; he could sense that in every babbling word, so he couldn’t say he minded her talking so much, if it helped her to feel more comfortable. The problem was, she seemed to expect him to chatter as much in return, to satisfy her with lengthy answers, and that was something he simply couldn’t do. He didn’t much like the sound of his own voice.

He'd asked if she would prefer to ride with Jane in the second carriage, but Anna had answered in earnest, “Nay, nay, I’m quite content here. I told ye I wasnae goin’ to complain, and I daenae mean to. I daenae mind this rain at all.”

Misunderstanding his meaning entirely.

But as the day wore on into late afternoon, the black skies making it seem far later, Anna finally appeared to run out of things to say, her body relaxing back into him. She fell so quiet, in truth, that he wondered if she had gone to sleep.

Gordon jostled her.

“Hmm?” she mumbled. “Did ye say somethin’?”

She’s weary and she must be half-frozen by now. She cannae continue on through the night.

He glanced through the miserable gloom ahead of them, spying the glimmer of distant lights. A village or town. Somewhere to rest. He’d hoped they would carry on without pause, but as he held his tired bride, feeling her slacken once more, he made his choice.

“We’ll halt in the next village,” he called to the driver, following behind.

The driver gave a nod. “Aye, M’Laird.”

“We’ll go on ahead.” With a squeeze of his thighs, Gordon urged Manadh into a lope that stretched into a gallop, thundering through the dismal moorland toward those faint lights.