In The Warrior's Bed. Mary WineЧитать онлайн книгу.
A thick braid of hair bounced against her shoulders but her face was framed by strands that had been tugged free by her brisk ride.
It didn’t seem to trouble her any. A tinkling of laughter was swept up to his ears by the wind. Argyll nickered, gaining another smell of the mare. The rider pulled up on her reins suddenly. She sat up tall in the saddle, soothing the neck of her mare with a steady hand. But the horse tossed her head and danced in a wide circle.
“There now, girl. What’s yer worry?”
Her voice was as enticing as the sight of her. Cullen let Argyll close the distance a few more yards before he pulled up on the bridle. He was on McQuade land now. It was a sure bet that the lass would no be very happy when she noticed him. But he was curious to see what she did when she saw a McJames so close. He had no stomach for women who panicked; their screaming drove him near daft.
The mare smelled Argyll. The animal side-stepped and let out a loud snort. She slid off the saddle because she’d been perched on it side fashion but she didn’t cower in fear. She grabbed the bridle and pulled the mare around to face her. It was impressive to watch because she was a small thing. The mare could hurt her but she kept sure command of the animal, refusing to allow it to rule her.
“Easy now.” Her face rose from where she’d been looking at her horse. Cullen watched her eyes widen as she stared at him. She shook her head as though she were trying to get the sight of him to vanish.
Argyll grunted, proving that he was all too real.
She was a fool.
Bronwyn felt her heart freeze, because the man was huge. The hilt of his sword reflected the last of the daylight. His stallion was a good two hands taller than her mare. It could run her down with no trouble at all. Worse yet, the man wore the kilt of the McJames clan. With her father and brothers raiding their land, he had no reason to treat her kindly. His body was cut with hard muscles, and where his shirt sleeves were rolled up, she saw the evidence that spoke of his firsthand knowledge and skill with that sword. She scanned the ridge above him quickly, fearing that the McJames had decided to repay her father’s raids by doing a few themselves.
But there was no one in the fading light. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she returned her attention to him. She’d never considered that a McJames warrior might enjoy an afternoon ride the same as she.
“Good day to ye, lass.” His voice was deep and edged with playfulness. He reached up and tugged on the corner of his knitted bonnet, a half smile curving his lips. His light-colored hair brushing his wide shoulders, a single thin braid ran down along the side of his face to keep it out of his eyes. He wore only a leather doublet over his shirt and the sleeves of the doublet were hanging behind him. There was a majestic quality to him. One that was mesmerizing. Her brother Keir was a very large man and she wasn’t used to meeting men who measured up to his size. This one did. He radiated strength from his booted feet to his blond hair. There was nothing small or weak about him. In his presence she felt petite, something she was unaccustomed to. Almost as though she noticed that she was a woman and that her body was fashioned to fit against his male one.
“Good day.”
She had no idea why she spoke to him. It was an impulse. A shiver raced down her back. Her eyes widened, heat stinging her cheeks, her mouth suddenly dry. A shudder shook her gently, surprising her. Beneath her doublet, her nipples tingled, the sensation unnerving.
His gaze touched on her face, witnessing the scarlet stain creeping across it. A flicker of heat entered his eyes. It was bold but something inside her enjoyed knowing that she sparked such a look in him.
“It’s a fine day for riding.”
His words were innocent of double meaning, but Bronwyn drew in a sharp breath because her mind imagined a far different sort of riding. Her own thoughts shocked her deeply. She’d never been so aware of just what a man might do with a woman when they were alone, and now was the poorest time for her body to be reacting to such things. It felt as though he could read her mind. At least the roguish smile he flashed her hinted that he could. His lips settled back into a firm line. She had to jerk her eyes away from them but that left her staring into his blue eyes. Hunger flickered there and her body approved. Her nipples drew tight, hitting her boned stays.
“Ye shouldna look at me like that, lass.” He sounded like he was warning himself more than her, but her blush burned hotter because he was very correct.
“Nor should ye look at me as ye are.”
A grin split his lips, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Ye have that right. But what am I to do when ye stand there so tempting? I’m merely a man.”
And for some reason she felt more like a woman than she ever had. Something hot and thick flowed through her veins. There was no thinking about anything. Her body was alive with sensations, touching off longings she’d thought deeply buried beneath the harsh reality of her father’s loathing to see her wed.
“A man who is far from his home.” Her gaze touched on his kilt for a moment, the blue, yellow, and orange of the McJames clan holding her attention. “I’m a McQuade.”
“I figured that already, but its nae my clan that keeps us quarreling.”
He let his horse close the distance again. The mare didn’t move now, she stood quivering as the large stallion made a circle around her. The same flood of excitement swept through Bronwyn, keeping her mesmerized by the man moving around her. Bronwyn shook her head, trying to regain her wits.
“But I’m thinking that we just might be able to get along quite nicely.” His eyes flickered with promise. “Ye and I.”
“Ye should go. Ye’re correct that it is my clansmen that seek trouble with the McJames. Ye shouldna give them a reason to begin a fight.”
“And ye would nae see that happen? I’m pleasantly surprised.”
His stallion was still moving in a circle around her. Bronwyn had to twist her neck to keep him in sight. Every time he went behind her, her body tightened, every muscle drawing taut with anticipation. Such a response defied everything that she knew.
“Surprised that I’ve no desire to see blood spilt? Being a McJames does not mean I am cruel at heart. What is yer name?” he asked.
Fear shot through her, ending her fascination with him. Being the laird’s daughter meant she was a prize worth taking. Riding out alone so far had been a mistake she just might pay for with her body. Few would believe her if she told them her father wouldn’t pay any ransom for her. Beyond money, there were men who would consider taking her virtue a fine way to strike back at her clan.
“I’ll no tell ye that. McQuade is enough for ye to know.”
“I disagree with ye. ’Tis much too formal only knowing your clan name. I want to know what ye were baptized.”
“Yet ye’ll have to be content for I shall nae tell ye my Christian name.” He frowned but Bronwyn forced herself to be firm. This flirtation was dangerous. Her heart was racing but with more than fear. “If ye get caught on McQuade land, I’ll no be able to help ye.”
“Would that make ye sad, lass?”
“No.” He was toying with her. “But it would ruin supper, what with all the gloating from the men that drove ye back onto McJames land. There would be talk of nothing else.”
One golden eyebrow rose as the horse moved closer to her. He swung a leg over the saddle and jumped to the ground. Her belly quivered in the oddest fashion. But she had been correct about one thing—this man was huge.
“Are ye sure, lass? I might be willing to press me luck if I thought ye’d feel something for me.”
“That’s foolishness. Get on with ye. I willna tell ye my name. Ye’re a stranger; I dinna feel anything beyond Christian good will toward ye.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”