Page 6 of The Highlander’s Illicit Bride (Wicked Highland Lairds #1)

CHAPTER FIVE

T hey had ridden for a while and despite the fact that they were seemingly safe, at least for the time being, Isolde was still shaken. He could feel her trembling and she had not spoken a word since their close call.

“’Tis time we take a rest,” he offered, thinking it might be beneficial to take their ease for just a little while.

She craned her neck around. “But what if there are more brigands about?”

“Then we’ll deal with them,” he replied. “But I think we’re safe fer now.”

Isolde’s face showed her uncertainty and Struan could tell she preferred to keep moving, as if being on the road would make them any less susceptible to attacks from either her father’s soldiers, or roaming thieves.

Seems like the lass has not spent much time outside her castle walls.

“Besides, we’re startin’ tae lose the daylight. We’re goin’ tae want tae find a place tae hole up fer the night anyway,” he added.

“And where dae ye propose we hole up then?” She asked emphasizing on the term he had used with a small smile.

Struan nodded to something up ahead of them. “There’s an old crofter’s hut. We should be able tae find shelter there fer the night.”

With Isolde seemingly willing to defer to his experience, Struan led the horse off the forest path and crossed the small field to the crofter’s hut. It was then that he noticed a small loch sat in the clearing, ringed by tall, thick trees that pressed close to it on the shoreline.

“Who dae ye think this home belongs tae?” she asked.

“How am I supposed tae ken that?”

“Ye arenae supposed tae ken it. This is why I said dae ye think. ”

“Ye women have very weird thoughts passing yer heads daily, dinnae ye?”

“I am just trying tae make small talk, ye ken, kill the silence.”

“I dinnae mind being silent,” Struan said and slipped off the back of the horse, chuckling to himself, then turned and helped her down.

“I would think different after being locked in the dungeons, but if ye say so,” she stood near the horse, her hand on its flank as if she sought reassurance.

Struan walked toward the hut, his eyes scanning the woods and land around it for threats. Seeing none, he approached the hut. Around the side, Struan noticed a line strung up behind it with some clothes still attached to it.

“The place looks abandoned,” he called to Isolde. “Why dinnae ye check around the other side of the hut? Peek in the windows and make sure nobody’s home, eh?”

“And what am I supposed tae dae if somebody’s home?”

“Give ‘em a smile, wave and get us an invitation inside.”

She gaped at him in consternation, making Struan chuckle to himself again. He walked around the back of the hut, making sure there was nobody hiding back there. The clothes that still hung on the line made him think that whoever had lived here, had left in a hurry.

He looked at the breeches and tunic hanging on the line. They might be a bit tight, but they looked like they would fit, so he pulled them off the line and tucked them under his arm before walking around to the front of the hut.

“There’s nobody home,” Isolde said from the other side of the hut.

“Aye. Seems that way,” he replied. “Looks like we’ll be takin’ shelter fer the night here then.”

“We cannae just move intae somebody’s home.”

“We’re nae movin’ in,” he replied. “We’re borrowin’ it fer a night. They’re nae home.”

“I dinnae think ‘tis right, Laird Cameron.”

“Me name’s Struan, lass.”

“I cannae call ye that. It is too familiar.”

“I believe we are getting familiar enough during this trip, dinnae ye think so”?

“Fine, point taken. I dinnae think ‘tis right, Struan .”

“There’s nobody here. By all appearances, it looks like they abandoned the hut and may never be back,” he said. “What’s so wrong about seekin’ shelter fer a night in an abandoned place?”

“Because it daesnae belong tae us.”

“By the look of it, it daesnae belong tae anybody.”

“But—”

Struan glared at her. “I’m goin’ tae stay inside that buildin’ taenight when it gets cold and dark,” he sounded harsher than he intended. “Ye’re free tae dae what ye want. But I have tae tell ye, ‘tis a lot scarier and far more dangerous when ye’re wanderin’ around the woods in the dark.”

It was a bluff. The last thing he wanted was for her to go wandering around the woods in the dark.

Being that she was the only one who knew where his brother was, Struan had no intention of letting her do that.

More than that, the thought of her being out there alone sent a stitch through his heart.

If she seemed intent on going, he would stop her.

Isolde folded her arms over her chest and stamped her foot, a frown stretching her lips as her face radiated disapproval.

“Fine,” she finally said. “But if somebody comes?—”

“Then I’ll apologize and tell them we meant nay harm,” he said.

It was then that her gaze fell on the bundle of clothes under his arm. “And what are those?”

“I found them.”

Her cheeks reddened. “So, nae only are we stayin’ in somebody else’s house, ye’re stealin’ their clothes too?”

“I’m nae stealin’ them.”

He pulled a piece of silver from his bloodied tunic that Murdoch’s men didn’t manage to find during his capture and showed it to Isolde before he set it down on the sill of the window.

“I had nay intention of stealin’ these. This silver should more than cover the inconvenience,” he said and gestured to himself. “But I’m tired of wearin’ these rags and want tae put on somethin’ fresh and clean.”

Isolde’s face softened, as if she understood his plight. She didn’t argue further. The matter seemed settled, and Struan was getting what he wanted.

He knew they would be much better for it after a good night’s rest. But before they bunked down, he wanted to wash the blood and grime off his body. The storm had made the roads and paths little more than mud and he felt caked in it.

The soft, wet ground sucking at his boots, Struan walked the horse to the rear of the hut and tied it up near a stream that ran behind it.

Leaving the horse to graze and drink, he gave it a pat on the flank then walked back around to the front to find Isolde standing outside the door, still looking uncertain.

“Go on in then,” he said. “There’s naethin’ in there that’ll bite ye.”

She frowned and glanced at the doorway, hesitant.

He could see she was unsure it was safe.

Grinning to himself, Struan walked in ahead of her and glanced around.

He was immediately hit by the smell of disuse.

There was a layer of dust over everything, and it appeared that anything valuable had been taken, reinforcing Struan’s belief the place had been abandoned.

“See? ‘Tis abandoned. Nobody’s comin’ back here taenight,” he called to her. “’Tis safe fer ye tae come in.”

Her arms still folded over her chest and her lips pursed, Isolde looked around. “Aye. I suppose ye’re right,” she said softly.

“Of course, I am,” he said.

The hut lacked a proper hearth, but there was a pit in the middle of it ringed with stones that had been charred and blackened over its years of use. There were no furs or blankets left behind, so they would have to do without.

“Should I bring some firewood fer the fire?” she asked, surprising him.

“Nay, I will dae it,” he said. “But before I dae it, I want tae clean meself up.”

Ye arenae going anywhere around alone.

He stripped off his bloody and tattered tunic and tossed it to the side of the room then pulled off his boots—it was a minor miracle Mackintosh’s men hadn’t seen fit to take them—and dropped them. Isolde stood where she was, face blanched, mouth hanging open.

“What dae ye think ye’re daein?”

“I told ye, I’m goin’ tae clean meself up.”

She covered her face with her hands when Struan pulled his breeches off and tossed them over with the tunic.

He chuckled at her, then walked out of the hut and across the small field.

Stepping into the loch, he winced and drew in a sharp breath as the cold water hit the wounds Mackintosh’s men had left on his body.

The pain quickly ebbed though, and he was awash in a brisk exhilaration as the water soothed his aching muscles.

Up to his waist in the water, Struan scrubbed his hands over his body, washing away the mud and road dirt from his body.

He turned and saw that Isolde had followed him out of the hut and stood on the edge of the loch, gaping at him.

She wanted to appear scandalized, but the way her gaze lingered on his form told Struan she wasn’t quite as appalled as she acted.

Even from where he stood in the water, her bright scarlet cheeks were crystal clear—as was the curious and intrigued glimmer in her eyes.

“Ye’re bleedin’ mad. Ye dae ken that, dinnae ye?” she called.

“Maybe. But at least I’ll be mad and clean,” he replied. “’Tis nay sense in puttin’ those clean, fresh clothes I just bought on me filthy, grimy body, is there?”

Isolde appeared even more flustered and he could feel the heat of her gaze spreading across his skin like the ripples he caused that marred the surface of the loch.

His stomach turned over on itself and his mouth grew dry.

Something primal and animalistic rose inside of him as he gazed at her.

Struan felt a sense of longing and desire he’d never felt before.

The way she looked at him made his entire body tense with a fiery sense of arousal.

‘Tis Murdoch’s daughter ye’re lusting over ye fool!

He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make himself wince and pushed those thoughts away. She was a means to an end—the only way he was going to find Finlay.

She was the daughter of his mortal enemy and a man he had vowed to kill. He had to get her to stop staring at him and walk away. And he knew just how to do it.

“Ye’re welcome tae join me. The water’s a wee bit brisk, but it feels nice,” he called out.

“I am nae gettin’ naked in front of ye. ‘Tis wholly improper.”

“So, ye’re just goin’ tae stand there watchin’ me be naked in front of ye?” he retorted. “It hardly seems fair, lass.”

Her cheeks turned a shade of red Struan didn’t know existed in nature and she sputtered. She looked away, then turned back to him, then turned away again, seemingly unsure what to do. Finally, she turned and stormed off.

“And where are ye goin’, lass?”

“Back tae the hut and away from ye,” she called over her shoulder. “Ye’re bleedin’ mad.”

“Aye. Ye said that already.”

Struan smiled to himself as he lay back and floated on the surface of the loch, staring up at the sky.

Dark clouds were gathering. A storm would be coming eventually, and he knew it would be a cold night.

And as he thought about the way Isolde had been staring at him and how his body had reacted, Struan knew it was also going to be a very long night as well.