Page 25 of Scot of Deception
“Blaine,” she called. “I’m…. decent.”
Only then did Blaine turn around. Had he not caught a single peek at her, she wondered? Had he not tried to look at her at all?
The thought brought as much relief as offence. On the one hand, if he truly had no interest in her, then Kathleen wouldn’t even have any reason to try and test the waters. On the other, a part of her was desperate for him to look, to crave her as much as she craved him, even if it was far from wise.
All her life, she had done foolish thing after foolish thing—she wasn’t going to stop now.
“Lay yer clothes out in the sun,” Blaine told her as he draped his own soaked garments over a low-hanging branch that was directly in the path of the sun. “We’ll wait until they’re dry enough an’ then we’ll leave.”
“Willnae they take too long tae dry?” Kathleen asked. They didn’t have many hours of sunlight left; if their clothes were still wet by then, then there was no point in continuing. “Shouldnae we build a camp?”
Blaine raised an eyebrow that seemed as curious as it was amused. “Ye wish tae sleep in a camp?”
Kathleen shrugged a shoulder. “I dinnae see what other option we have.”
Sleeping out in the wilderness was not something Kathleen was used to or fond of. She had been forced to endure it a couple of times in the past while traveling, but then she had had guards with her—several of them, and also her father and cousins. Now, all she had was Blaine and if anything happened to him, she would be all alone.
“Alright,” Blaine said. “I’ll gather some wood.”
“I’ll help,” Kathleen offered, but he only waved her back.
“Sit. Ye’re nae used tae all this travellin’ an’ I dinnae want ye tae fall ill. Put on me cloak, too.”
“But—”
“Put on me cloak, Kathleen,” Blaine insisted in a tone that left no room for argument. With a sigh, Kathleen did as she was told, grabbing Blaine’s cloak from where he had hooked it over the saddle and draping it over her shoulders before she sat in the shade of a large tree.
Belatedly, she realized it smelled like him. It made sense, of course; Blaine had worn it all this time while they were riding. But once again, she felt as though she were surrounded by him, as though she was being cradled in his arms, warm and secure.
She dipped her chin into the neck opening, breathing in his scent as she watched him gather twigs and small logs to light the fire. He did quick work of it, piling them up and lighting the flames, though it was hardly necessary at that time of the day.
Simply waiting there seemed like unendurable torture to Kathleen. Like always, Blaine was quiet, lost in the depths of his own mind and looking so distant that Kathleen didn’t even know how to start a conversation with him. But the more time they spent in silence, the more her mind roamed to places it shouldn’t, and Kathleen was desperate for something to distract her.
“Will ye teach me how tae fight?”
Blaine looked up from where he was dusting off his hands by the fire, glancing at her through the flames. “Nay.”
“What?” Kathleen asked, as surprised as she was exasperated. His refusal was more than enough to distract her from her thoughts, after all. “Why nae?”
“Because ye dinnae need tae learn,” he said. “An’ because ye may injure yerself if ye dae.”
Kathleen couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I willnae injure meself. I ken how tae hold a sword an’ a knife. Me cousins have shown me.”
“Then why dae ye need me tae teach ye?”
It was a good question, and one to which Kathleen had no answer. She knew the basics, of course—as much as Kieran and Devon had shown her before the fear of her father finding out had gripped them.
“Because it wasnae enough!” said Kathleen. “An’ I’m sure ye’d rather ken I can defend meself if somethin’ happens tae ye.”
That seemed to be the right thing to say. Blaine hesitated for only a moment before he gestured to her to stand, and Kathleen did so eagerly, meeting him close to the fire.
“Be careful,” he warned as he reached for the knife strapped around his calf and handed it to her by the blade. “Show me how ye hold it.”
Kathleen wrapped her fingers around the carved wooden hilt like her cousins had shown her—not too tightly, not tooloosely. She felt the weight of it in her hand and assumed a fighting stance, but Blaine didn’t seem too impressed by her efforts.
Silently, he came to stand behind her. One of his hands found her waist, lying gently over the curve of it, as the other wrapped around her right, where she was holding the knife. He adjusted her grip, straightening her hand, but none of it registered in Kathleen’s mind.
With every breath she took, she felt Blaine’s chest brushing against her back. His breath was warm on the back of her neck, his hand confident around hers. Though he was barely putting any pressure on the hold on her waist, Kathleen was still driven mad by the sensation, wishing he would fully commit to it and hold her properly. Heat pooled in her core and her breath turned shallow, the air barely reaching her lungs.
